When \u201cSeinfeld<\/a>\u201d first aired in 1989, I was busy adjusting to life as a new mom. I spent my days juggling feeding schedules, laundry, mommy-and-me classes and shopping for my son as though he were about to grace the cover of GQ. By the time evening rolled around, all I wanted to do was sleep.<\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n Throughout the \u201990s, people constantly asked me if I watched \u201cSeinfeld.\u201d I hadn\u2019t. The question came up so often that it felt like a recurring plotline of the show. I finally tuned in to see what all the fuss was about, but it didn\u2019t move me one way or another. For whatever reason, I couldn\u2019t explain why \u201cSeinfeld\u201d left me feeling ambivalent any more than Elaine (Julia Louis-Dreyfus<\/a>) could explain why she hated \u201cThe English Patient.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n While my friends discussed close talkers and whether a sneeze deserved a \u201cbless you,\u201d I spent much of my time inside my own orbit. Everything outside my own life was simply background noise that I paid little attention to. While the Gulf War, O.J. Simpson trial, Princess Diana\u2019s death, collapse of the Soviet Union and Bill Clinton scandal were making headlines, there was always something more important going on in my personal life: a child, a career, a move, a marriage or a divorce. I suppose those disruptions filled the space that current events might have otherwise occupied.<\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n Year after year, the noise from the outside world got louder. Conversations turned political. It was no longer possible to stay informed without getting swept into an endless stream of headlines and conflicting opinions. As someone who had never engaged in politics, I suddenly found myself reading articles and opinion pieces and listening to podcasts. But instead of finding clarity, I felt confused, overwhelmed and anxious. It wasn\u2019t that I stopped caring about what was happening in the world. Quite the opposite. Every headline felt urgent. Every opinion seemed to demand my attention. Before long, I realized I had taken on the weight of a world that already felt too heavy.<\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n Then, in 2017, the death of my son overshadowed everything. <\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n I moved through my days on autopilot as grief filled every corner of my life. Even the smallest tasks felt like they required more energy than I had. The evenings were the hardest to face. The moment I turned out the lights, my mind started running marathons. Memories. Regrets. An endless chorus of \u201cwhat if.\u201d The silence only made the thoughts louder. Sleep no longer came naturally. It became a nightly struggle.<\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n I turned to television to escape, but television had changed. Every show seemed to revolve around antiheroes, violence, true crime or apocalyptic futures. Even comedies found humor in life\u2019s miseries. I was desperate to find anything to watch that didn\u2019t ask me to spend one more hour immersed in life\u2019s darkest moments, but no matter how many streaming platforms I searched, I couldn\u2019t find anything. I understand the appeal of stories that don\u2019t tie everything up in a nice little bow, but the world already felt heavy enough, and the last thing I needed was another dose of despair.<\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n It was during that period that I rediscovered \u201cSeinfeld.\u201d <\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n I don\u2019t remember how it happened. Maybe Netflix<\/a> suggested it, or maybe I came across it by accident. Whatever the reason, I discovered the show calmed my mind. My grief was still there, and so were the headlines. But for 22 minutes, my thoughts shifted from despair to whether George (Jason Alexander<\/a>) would sabotage himself again, whether Kramer (Michael Richards) would burst through Jerry\u2019s door, or whether Elaine would find herself in another doomed relationship.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n For the first time in months, I noticed my thoughts slowing down. My mind wasn\u2019t racing the way it always did night after night. It finally had somewhere else to go. <\/p>\n<\/div>\n \u201cSeinfeld\u201d became an antidote to my anxiety. It was comforting to know that I didn\u2019t need to brace myself for another tragedy. I knew what I was getting. While I wrestled with grief and the chaos in the news, the problems on \u201cSeinfeld\u201d were insignificant, and that triviality was exactly what I needed. Four people arguing over a parking spot, a marble rye and a puffy shirt. <\/p>\n<\/div>\n In a world that felt anything but normal, \u201cSeinfeld\u201d gave me a sense of normalcy that I couldn\u2019t find anywhere else. <\/p>\n<\/div>\n Nearly a decade later, the news remains relentless. Social media has grown exhausting. My grief is still with me. Yet I still end most evenings with \u201cSeinfeld\u201d playing in the background. The familiar bass line. Jerry\u2019s opening monologue. The same dialogue I\u2019ve heard hundreds of times before. Just a little bit of predictability in increasingly unpredictable times. Some people meditate. Some listen to ocean sounds. Apparently, I need George Costanza yelling about nothing.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n I\u2019ve come to realize that amid all the calamity, there\u2019s something soothing about knowing exactly what\u2019s about to happen next. No surprises. No news alerts waiting behind the next commercial break. Just four New Yorkers going about their lives, where their biggest problems are usually self-inflicted.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n![\"Jerry](\"https:\/\/img.huffingtonpost.com\/asset\/6a5fb500190000c0663309e2.jpeg?cache=sbyEGBDlPc&ops=scalefit_720_noupscale\")
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