33: The death of fear(s)
1994
I believe I was 21 when I first compiled a list of goals to complete by a determinate age. It was a list of 30 things to do before I turned 30.
30 seemed like a big age. Not scary, just noteworthy.
A real adult.
The list was not at all reasonable, given the scope of a lot of the goals, but I’ve always been a dreamer and one never knows how life will unfold so I thought, why not?
Well once the list was made it just kind of…sat there.
Don’t get me wrong, I made a powerpoint complete with inspiring images and helpful links to navigate some of the activities. I even made an “in the next 5 years” powerpoint to motivate myself to tackle some of the easier goals.
Here’s the thing - I am GREAT at starting projects, just not so much with the follow through (and after 33 years she is diagnosed with ADHD).
The list was always there though, the memory of it a nagging thought that would pop up at random times like that neighbor that doesn’t tell you to mow your lawn but not-so-casually glances at your grass before giving you a pointed look.
And before I knew it, I was turning 33.
Now depending on your beliefs, 33 can be an omen or a blessing. I was raised to believe that you had to hold your breath at 33 because it was the year that Jesus died and something bad could happen. So I always saw it as the year of death.
But, as I got older, 33 was imminent and I started to reframe my perspective.
I need to give some context before I continue...
I’m no stranger to death. I’d even argue that grief, loss, has shaped me more than any other human experience. My first big loss was at 3, my most recent loss was 8 months ago*. I often measure major life events by who died around that time.
This should come as no surprise, after all I was born on April 4th…
And you’re probably like, huh??!
Okay so I’m clearly not Asian but I did take Japanese in high school and I learned that the word for the number 4 (or one of the words) - shi - also means death. What a mindfuck that was. In Cantonese it’s “si.” To take it a step further, my nickname in Chinese would be si-si, in Japanese shi-shi, or 4-4 (or death-death? maybe it cancels out?). But before I take you down that rabbit hole (don’t worry I’ll make a dedicated post about my birth date and all of the 4’s that have come up in my life), let’s circle back to why we’re here.
In June of 2022, my dear friend and mentor, Lanie, was hit by drag racers in a tragic car accident. Her mother and mother’s dog died at the scene; Lanie passed away days later, shortly before her 50th birthday.
Lanie after wrapping The Subject (2020), Nov 2018 (Photo by Gahlia Eden)
I was not prepared. Can anyone ever be prepared?
Lanie had been secretly dealing with health struggles since I’d known her; shortly after we met, back in 2018, she had alluded to the fact that she wasn’t long for this world. We were on the set of her directorial debut and she told me there were three more films she really wanted to make before she died. And I thought, “way to be ominous, weirdo.” (no judgment, I’m a dark weirdo too [see above]). What I said was, “of course you’re going to make them!” And she gave me a knowing smile. Odd, but I dismissed it.
Little did I know…
Needless to say, her passing rocked me. It absolutely rocked me. She was getting better; I thought there was more time. I thought we were going to make more movies together. I thought we’d get to celebrate each other’s big moments, whatever they were, and continue holding space for each other’s hardships. Lanie was an expert at holding space, at guiding with kindness, at inspiring action rooted in social justice. She made it look effortless. I don’t think we, her loved ones, realized or truly appreciated how much effort it actually took. At least I didn’t. I wasn’t paying attention.
There isn’t enough blog space to talk about how much I love Lanie or what her friendship meant to me (or maybe it’s still too raw for me to try to put into words). And though our time together was brief, it was foundational. Because of her I’m a more holistic creative, a more intentional collaborator. Because of her, I’m a fuller person, more committed to activism through art.
Back in the spring or summer of 2021, a woman I had met through my father (she’s an older black journalist, I’m a young black filmmaker — my dad connected us in the hopes that she’d help me find some career and financial stability - ha!) and periodically spoke with to get career advice, or in desperate times: help with crafting an email (why is that so nerve-racking), reached out and asked if I could do some admin work for her mom, help her navigate computer-related tasks, find events in the area for her to safely attend (that post-Covid social life), and even just hang out since they don’t have family in DC and she was understandably lonely. I had free time, it seemed pretty low-effort, and I wasn’t really in a position to turn down money so I said “yes, of course!”
Micheline and I finally met that September. She was an absolute joy. Sassy, outgoing, she LOVED life. Fine foods, French culture, Judge Judy…there was never a dull moment when we hung out. And this woman could hold her liquor, let me tell you. She was forty years my senior, and half my size, and I couldn’t keep up.
Celebrating Mich’s birthday weekend in Long Island, Oct 2022
About a month after we met, Mich was diagnosed with multiple myeloma. Thanksgiving weekend, she had back surgery to remove a tumor in her spine.
My role quickly shifted from computer helper and companion to part-time caregiver and confidante. It was overwhelming at times, I was hands-on in a way I’d never experienced before, but everything was happening too quickly to overthink it, I just dove in. When she needed me, I was there.
Without going into too much detail or rehashing an experience that I still haven’t had the time or strength to unpack — I will tell you that Mich passed away in February, about 8 months after Lanie. She was such a brilliant light, so full of life and laughter — so quickly taken.
Now my 33rd birthday was approaching and I’m grappling with how to commemorate it amidst these two losses, and also taking into consideration that it was my Jesus year and according to São Toméan superstition that meant I might also die which didn’t seem like a productive thing to focus on.
So I thought about the selfless life that Lanie lived, the boundless creative who poured so much into those she loved. I thought about the unapologetic adventurer that Micheline was, the tenacious woman who seized the day and passionately pursued her ambitions.
Two inspiringly strong women who were beautiful in their vulnerabilities and so incredibly courageous.
In thinking about them and the year I’d had, I decided 33 would absolutely be about death — the death of my fears!
I’ve spent so much of my life, particularly my 20s, letting fear dictate how I move through the world.
Fear of showing my body, fear of dating, fear of driving, fear of Covid (ok but that feels legitimate), fear of putting myself out there professionally. Fear of looking stupid, fear of being misunderstood, when anxiety was at its peak: fear of the literal outside.
I felt like I was controlled by fear. Every decision I made (she’s dramatic, can you tell) was in service of my fears. Whether or not that’s actually true, it was my perception. And it was time to let it go.
“Courage is not the absence of fear but rather the assessment that something else is more important…”
- FDR
I decided that my life is more important. It honestly started to feel like a slap in the face to everyone I’ve lost that I was progressively recoiling into myself instead of leaping into life. I’m still here, damn it.
So the list came back. To be honest, she never left.
I had been thinking up ways to repurpose it for a while and because the number 4 comes up so much in my life, for better or for worse, I thought why not make it a 44 by 44. Again, it was just an idea that stayed in the back of my mind, clawing for attention.
But if turning 33 was truly going to be about the death of fears, what better way to kick it off than to publicly announce my 44 goals?
Yikes! Immediate panic. IMMEDIATE panic. First thought was: how showy, who cares, why do you feel the need to share things so openly. (fear) Second was: well how embarrassing would it be if you reach age 44 and everyone witnesses the fact that you didn’t complete the list. (fear) And on and on.
But as I’ve been sharing my goals on Instagram I’ve realized that I’m less concerned with meeting an arbitrary deadline and way more committed to experiencing the life I’ve always dreamed for myself.
So I’m taking my time, I’m leaning into the joy, the process, the memory-making. There’s no rush. I don’t want to rename this a bucket list because, to me, the emphasis of bucket lists seems to be on death, or rather - making sure you accomplish certain things “before you die.” This 44 is a push to make sure that I focus on living.**
Focus is a struggle, remember I have ADHD.
Anywho, this post has gotten long enough so I think it’s best we end here.
I will be posting the full list in a new entry, but for the impatient ones (no judgment, I too am impatient) you can click the button above to check it out on Instagram.
As this grows, I’ll probably make a post about each goal, or group them by theme, to give some insight into my why’s. Obviously, I’ll also be documenting the process of completing each goal, taking you behind-the-scenes, sharing the joy, unloading the frustrations.
I’m trying not to approach this blog like another job, or something to check off my to-do list, so I won’t promise weekly posts but I’m so grateful for your time either way!
If you’ve made it this far, thank you!! However you’ve found yourself here, I hope my journey inspires you to let some of your own fears die.
Have any bucket list ideas of your own? Share them below!