(almost) blank slate

on starting over

They say if you want to reach a wider audience (and maintain the one you have!) on any kind of platform, the number one thing you must do is be consistent. Which is the one thing I think we can all agree I have decidedly NOT been (here, at least) over the past year. I’ve had my reasons. Most notably, my previously vibrant mom’s unexpected illness followed by her premature death last spring. If you ask me, this is a pretty good excuse for only writing here a handful of times these past several months. That being said, if you’re still subscribed and receiving these little missives, I am deeply appreciative. And if you not only receive them but ACTUALLY READ THEM? Be still my grieving heart.

Anyhoo, thanks for sticking around.

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illustration by Watanabe Seitei via rawpixel

A few weeks back, in an act of pure impulsivity, I deleted most of this newsletter’s online archive and archived a bunch of instagram posts. Which felt even more freeing than I anticipated it might.

Did you know you are allowed to evolve? To begin again whenever you want?

I’ve been attempting to restart this here newsletter on a weekly basis the past several months. My drafts folder overfloweth. But nothing I’ve thus far penned (typed) has felt like something deserving a share, like anything I’d want to insert myself into your no doubt overcrowded inbox to tell you. I’ve been muddling through my own grief and following the ever worsening news (from both home and abroad) and anything I’ve thought about offering has felt superfluous and/or futile, or incommensurate with the immensity of all that’s currently taking place.

But is it?

I pursued my chosen career path out of a desire to reduce suffering — on whatever minuscule level one solitary human is able. I have succeeded in this endeavor more than I have failed, but it also rarely feels like enough. It rarely feels adequate in light of what we are individually and collectively facing. Then there are the times I have failed, the times my efforts have proven insufficient or my approach — or my very person — has been ill-suited to a particular case. This has (thank goddess) been a relatively uncommon occurrence, but it happens. To all of us in caretaking professions. And the feeling of falling short or of being unfitting a certain situation can leave you questioning your own proficiency, can make you wonder about the grandiosity of your original goal in a world where suffering is so pervasive and seemingly ubiquitous in scope.

BUT

if I focused only on what I perceive to be the inadequacy of what I have to offer, I’d freeze. I’d do nothing because everything would feel too small to make a difference, too modest to meaningfully affect change.

And doing nothing is not an option. At least not for me.

One of the things I most fear is being incapable or useless or inadequate. Chalk it up to my Enneagram five-ness or my Virgo-ness or to the fact that in my childhood home if you weren't being actively productive at all times you were automatically thought of as lazy. Whatever the reason, this fear of uselessness has been the driving force behind many of my decisions in life up to this point. Which has both its pros and cons, you know? The primary pro is that I am incredibly self-sufficient. The primary con is that when I find myself in a situation of actual helplessness or inadequacy, it can sometimes feel like my very identity is at stake, like any inherent value I might have previously held has instantaneously evaporated into the ether.

Feeling incapable can be an existential event when your self-worth is intimately tied to your productivity and/or your capacity to be of use to others.

When my mom was dying last spring, I got a crash course in sitting with the discomfort of my own inadequacy and I hated every minute of it. I hated that she was dying and I hated that she was suffering and I hated that I could do very little to appreciably alleviate her pain. I’ve never felt so useless. But to wallow in my own deficiency would have been to make her illness about me. It would have been letting fear — of my own incapacity, mostly — preempt the care (however meager) I could offer and rob us of the intimacy that offering allowed us to share.

So what does any of this have to do with this by now long-dormant newsletter? Well, basically, that I’m bringing it back. With different expectations, with an understanding that it will not be A GRAND THING but that it can still be useful in spite of its paucity, and that maybe usefulness is a faulty metric in the first place. Do not expect brilliance, but do expect honesty. Do not expect a weekly missive scheduled to arrive on a specific day, but do expect one to show up randomly, hopefully at least once a month, when my capacity to compose coincides with a thought worth passing along.

Consider this mediocre message me ripping off the bandaid of writing after taking such an extended break. I shall return in April sometime. Most likely after I have paid my absurdly high taxes (seriously, though, self-employment taxes are ROUGH) to the war machine that is our government.

Sending love near, sending love far.

xoxo

❍ My absolute favorite newsletter for all things strength training + beyond

• Uselessness is the point

❍ We need anti-capitalist feminism

❍ no, calling out hyper-consumption isn’t sexist (paid)

❍ I felt this deeply

❍ I also felt this deeply and wish we would talk about it more/stop trying to perpetually “fix” ourselves. No, we don’t need to suffer through or for our menstrual cycles but also not everything needs to be “hacked”

(Someday I’ll post a rant about cycle-syncing — specifically when it comes to fitness — that I imagine will be highly unpopular, but in the meantime read this)

❍ Related: On the possibility of diagnosing endometriosis by examining menstrual blood (as someone who was given a probable diagnosis of endometriosis many years ago based on symptoms + a strong family history, I am excited to see where this research goes from here)

❍ Two episodes of Throughline I highly recommend:

• On the importance of standing up to injustice even when it’s unpopular and/or in the face of overwhelming odds

• On the human cost of technological advancement (smartphones, computers, electric cars, etc.)

❍ This book was an education

❍ A breathtakingly honest account of profound loss and grief