🐚 Most of what you try doesn’t work.

View from KittyAnn’s Window

When I was a kid, my grandfather was really into computer games. He worked in IT, when that was still a new career, and one that old people could excel at. So he knew a lot about computers — the clunky desktop versions with thick cube monitors — and had several of them in various states of dis- and reassembly all over his study in the basement. 

When he wasn’t building them or reprogramming the things, he was playing games on them. The rudimentary DOS version of the Hoyle suite (hearts, crazy eights) was my favorite because you got to choose an avatar and play against other avatars – at a time, mind you, that avatars were just hitting the scene. They were just highly pixelated faces back then, but you could choose who you wanted to be. Most of the options were men, of course, except for the few token women. But you got to choose.

Same vibe as that 90’s game “Guess Who,” where you’d flip the faces up and down. Almost all of the tiles were men except for like three or five of them. So if you chose a woman on your turn, you were sure to lose.

The other DOS program Grandy played was called Roger Wilco. It was a role-playing game where you’re this dude with the same name as the game who is doing some stuff in space. I don’t actually remember the premise of that game, just the prehistoric graphics and the clunky mechanics. There was no real-time moving around; each screen was a static view of just one scene. And the game didn’t use a mouse, so you had to do literally everything by typing in command prompts. But you had no idea what you were supposed to do, and the game gave no direction whatsoever, so you’d be like “pick up that purple thing” or “kick” or “eat the strawberry.” And just see what’d stick. 

More than half of what you’d type in wouldn’t compute so you’d just have to keep trying something else. 

When you play games like this, you grow two skills: creativity and resilience. Because most of what you try doesn’t work. Often doesn’t do anything at all. You wait. Nothing happens. Did it work? Was that part of a bigger puzzle or just a pointless side quest? Who knows. Maybe we’ll find out later. Maybe we never will. But you keep trying, you keep playing, time passes…and then something works. Maybe.

So much of life is this way – just trial and error. And lately I’m noticing how yesterday’s trials become today’s errors. But most of those steps (missteps?) aren’t truly erroneous. They’re not detrimental. They’re just…detours. Frustrating, sure. But the real trouble starts when you start taking it all too seriously. Because when you start identifying with the gameplay too much, you lose sight of who you are in real life.

That’s when you really start to go insane.

Because if you’ve been staring at this screen for forty-five minutes and you’ve typed in every goddamn prompt you can think of – it’s probably time to walk away. 

Sometimes you just need to sleep on it before the perfect word has space to come to you. Sometimes you need to play a different game for a while, or watch a movie instead, or go outside and stack stones in the creek for a day or a week or a couple of months and then try again with a fresh mind. It’s a puzzle, and you just have to remember that and not blow it out of proportion. It’s supposed to be fun.

I feel like I used to be better at living this way.

***

The inspiration for this piece came to me in bed. My husband was disgruntled when I rolled away from him to scrawl it down, desperately – thumbs flying, blue light casting glow on my double chin.

It didn’t come out in KittyAnn’s voice, not at first. But I’ve learned to trust the timing of the art. The stories come when the project is ready. So first I made it exist. Then I made it hers.

That’s how this works for me. I don’t write in order – I catch fragments, and then I stitch them together. Because sometimes you just have to live a little bit longer before all the right pieces show up.

Lately, those pieces have been about fear.

This week alone I’ve noticed myself skipping a very necessary conversation, avoiding a trip to Goodwill, and working through lunch. Not because I was lazy or I didn’t have time. Because I was afraid – of hurting her feelings, of doing the donation wrong (yes, really), of losing momentum and messing up the project.

Not underresourcing. Not time pressure. Just fear.

So…how often am I letting fear drive without even realizing it?!

Some people are bad drivers. Like Alex’s cousin Liga, from Latvia. Apparently they drive like maniacs there. I try not to ride with her.

Turns out some emotions aren’t great drivers either. But bad drivers can still be family. And we love them for other reasons – like melodramatically insisting on black balloons for their 25th birthday, or just generally caring about us as humans. Even if riding with them gives us whiplash.

Emotions are just messengers. They’re not supposed to be in charge of the map. You’re supposed to be in charge of the map, silly.

What I’m learning now – with KittyAnn’s help – is this: if something feels true, if it’s aligned, and fear still shows up? That fear isn’t a no. It’s an invitation. Or a challenge. Depending on your mood.

Either way, I’m here for it. Not to conquer it – just learn to ride it. Like a giant fucking wave. 

Just to see what’s possible. 

If fear doesn’t stop me…what can I do? 

Because that’s where the next reclamation lives.

With all my wild heart,

Sadie xo

P.S. If something I said resonated — and you’re craving a space to unpack your own story — get in touch with me. I’d be honored to hold that space for you.