Tell Me Something Good

October 1, 2018

Last week, I had trouble functioning beyond the most basic of levels. I think a lot of us felt that way. By mid-week, I barely checked anything even related to the news. I avoided the television, the newspaper, the computer. And the few times I did check in, I regretted that decision almost immediately.

Here’s the deal: There is ugliness in the world, and I know about it.

Here’s also the deal: I know about said ugliness, but I do not have to bear witness.

I can choose not to, even for the smallest sliver of time.

If I’m honest though, I know avoidance brings only the shallowest and briefest of respite. I have spent quite a bit of time on this planet avoiding ugliness and underbellies and pills that are hard to swallow.

Eventually, I know I’ll have to face things. Things in my past that last week’s events cracked wide, wide open. I consider myself a veteran where therapy is concerned, and of course, I know that sometimes a girl’s gotta haul her ass back in. My Wild Uncle Johnny used to refer to times likes these as AFGO, and when they came up in his life he’d mutter under his breath, “Jesus. Another Fucking Growth Opportunity.”

I think what I like best about this time in my life, though, is that I don’t feel like there’s a timeline involved. I can talk when I feel like it, if I feel like it. I can choose to tell one person, two people, or the whole dang world. I get to choose when–and how– my own dust settles.

In the meantime, life goes on and so does the news cycle and the viciousness that is internet commentary.

I can’t avoid the “life goes on” part of the equation but limits can be put on the other stuff, and that’s a wonderful bit of news.

Another wonderful thing is this: You can ask for help, and you can reach out for comfort.

I could use some.

So tell me something good.

Tell me something that moves you, or has moved you.

Tell me how someone has lifted the weight, or how you found a way to lift your own.

Tell me surprises, or wonderments, or accidental gifts that have tumbled into your path.

Give me words that have helped you sleep better at night.

Give me the candle; give me the way to see out.

{ 16 comments… read them below or add one }

Jen October 1, 2018 at 5:50 am

I had a baby girl last week; she screeches like a pterodactyl when she is displeased and doesn’t stop until the problem is corrected. I also have a 2.5 year old boy who adores us. He pats his sister’s hair with delicate fingers and brings me supplies for baby without being asked! I look at them and see a strong lady who isn’t afraid of her opinion and a boy being raised to see women as fellow humans. It makes me feel more hopeful for their futures.


Dana Talusani October 1, 2018 at 8:26 am


Congrats on your new daughter! Thank you so much for sharing this. It made me hopeful. I love that your son already clearly adores her. I also love that she is a mini-pterodactyl. It reminded me of when Miss M. was a baby, although it was when she slept that she made noise–she would chirp in her sleep. To this day, she still has the nickname “cricket.”


Elly Lonon October 1, 2018 at 5:56 am

My tomato plants are still producing. So I was able to go out this morning and pick a few for my eggs. Now as I sip my warm coffee, my fingers still smell of the plants and even though I know winter is coming, I know spring will come again, too.


Dana Talusani October 1, 2018 at 8:27 am

Elly, homegrown tomatoes in October are no small thing. I dread the winter for many reasons, but part of my dread is lackluster tomatoes. But you are right–winter gives way to spring.


Annie October 1, 2018 at 6:30 am

I find hope and peace in knowing despite the very visible ugliness there are also very good men and women in the world. These kind, respectful, loving souls are quietly making life around them beautiful for those whose lives they touch. I find joy in surrounding myself and my family with as many of these souls as I can find. I find hope in that by showing my girls what goodness and light looks like that they will choose to live lives that embody and attract the same, continuing to create beauty and love among the ugly for future generations.


Dana Talusani October 1, 2018 at 8:29 am

Annie, it’s true. There are very good people out there and my only regret is that somehow their voices and presence get drowned out by all of the static noise. YOU are goodness and light.


Heather October 1, 2018 at 5:59 pm

I received a beautiful piece of art from Ann Imig that says, “You count, too.” That seemed the perfect thing to share here. It maybe goes along with what you’re saying. And I do totally get what you’re saying. Still. xoxo


Dana Talusani October 2, 2018 at 9:07 am

Heather, it is exactly the perfect thing to share. Thank you!


Kel October 2, 2018 at 5:59 am

The Internet can be an ugly, seditious place. That being said, it can also be a place teeming with love and support. I posted my #whyIdidntreport x3 and people I hadn’t even talked to in ages commented on it. It even led one friend to confide her own story, which had as yet been unspoken.

It’s also allowed me to make friends/acquaintances from all over, finding laughter, common ground, and above all, love. I’m profoundly grateful for that.

And even though I don’t know you well, I’m grateful for you. I love your humor, your genuine openness, your ability to find the humor in the dark places. I love your recipes, your love for your family, the Mozz Man, and your way with food. You are a complex, intricate, creative, beautiful soul, and I’m lucky to have “met” you.


Dana Talusani October 2, 2018 at 9:06 am

Kel, thank you so much! This made my day. I’m also glad you were able to reach others through sharing what you went through. That is no small thing.


Tiffany October 2, 2018 at 4:24 pm

Olivia was asking me where my genes come from while I was giving her a bath. She asked me if I was right-handed or left-handed. She said her beautiful hair came from my beautiful hair. All of this from a girl who wasn’t supposed to talk and supposedly has an IQ less than 40. She rocks. :)


Dana Talusani October 2, 2018 at 7:38 pm

Tiff, that is amazing stuff, right there.


Karen October 2, 2018 at 4:38 pm

Our dishwasher is broken and my sons (ages 14 and 10) willingly did the dishes for me after dinner. I had to ask, but they listened to what I needed.

So that’s a good thing.


Dana Talusani October 2, 2018 at 7:38 pm


Kids who willingly do dishes is good news!


elizabeth October 2, 2018 at 6:57 pm

Three weeks ago I found myself falling in love with San Sebastian, and I’ve managed to cook several recipes from a Spanish-language cookbook on the best pintxos in the city even though most of the recipes could barely be considered as such. I have a new pizza dough recipe from Marc Vetri that WORKS and it’s coinciding nicely with the fact that we all need comfort food at this time; between that and his pasta doughs that I love to make, I’m feeling better-equipped to handle the darker months. And today M kicked ass in front of some super-old Senators, though to their credit as soon as they start talking you get why they are still there.

Not gonna lie, I had to think about this a little, but it was a good exercise.


Dana Talusani October 2, 2018 at 7:38 pm

I am so impressed that you make pasta and pizza dough. Neither of those things are even remotely in my wheelhouse. And hooray for M!


Leave a Comment

Previous post:

Next post: