Hi friends,
After sending out my last newsletter I felt a twinge of regret and (admittedly) also fear because I had, after all, dared to publicly declare my desire to make work less all-consuming and I started to wonder if my entire business would collapse in the wake of this one email/post once word got out that I am AN ACTUAL HUMAN WITH A LIFE — and, more specifically, a person who is actively trying to expand that life beyond the walls of her (undeniably adorable and gloriously windowed) office space. I am happy to report my fear has (unsurprisingly, I know) not come to fruition and I have yet to receive any messages from current, past, or potential patients telling me off for being too selfish or inadequately committed to my work. In reality, multiple people reached out to congratulate me on finally recognizing my worth is not solely a function of my job and/or my ability to be of service to others and encouraged me to (gasp!) work less and play more — which is advice I give to everybody all the time but find difficult to implement myself.
In any case, if you sent me one of these supportive messages — especially if you are a patient of mine in addition to being a reader of this newsletter — THANK YOU. I love my work deeply and I like to think I’m good at it. It brings me untold amounts of joy. And also: my capacity to experience said joy increases in direct proportion to my ability (willingness, really) to make room for everything (and everyone) else that also matters to me in my life. I suppose if someone out there wants to receive acupuncture from a robot and not a real person, I might not be the one for them. But I’m banking on the probability that my very humanness is one of the reasons folks keep showing up to receive care. I also know my personality (i.e. me just being me) has turned some people off and THIS IS ALSO FINE. One of the most freeing realizations I’ve had in recent years is that any attempt to be for — or liked by — every person ever (both professionally and personally) is 1) futile, 2) soul-crushing, and 3) exhausting. Doing so makes it much more difficult for me to know myself or understand my own needs/wants/proclivities. It also interferes with my ability to be fully present for the people who already find resonance in my work, who like me as I am, who appreciate my idiosyncrasies, who forgive me my sometimes social awkwardness and extreme introversion or maybe even find it endearing and/or relatable that I’m like this.
I spent a large chunk of my life contorting myself into (metaphorical and literal) shapes that I believed were more socially acceptable/desirable and while I got fairly decent at pulling this off, it also took an immense toll on my sense of self and my self-worth. Pretending to be something or someone you’re not is energetically expensive, y’all. And I did that shit for YEARS. It’s how I ended up in friendships and romantic relationships with people who didn’t actually like me that much. Which is honestly more painful than just being alone. These past ten years have been about embracing who I am regardless of how I’m received — which doesn’t mean I don’t take accountability when I fuck up or cause harm (I still do both sometimes — we all do, it’s unavoidable), but it DOES mean I’m no longer willing to twist myself up or tie myself in knots in order to be liked or accepted. It still hurts to be rejected, but I can’t afford the energetic price of pretending to be somebody else or concealing parts of who I am to avoid feeling the pain that comes with not feeling seen or esteemed by other people.
Rejection is inevitable. WE WILL ALL BE REJECTED. I won’t act like I don’t sometimes still spiral into insecurity or self-doubt when another person doesn’t want what I’m offering, but I am much better these days at coaxing myself out of that place relatively quickly. I might still fixate for a few days following a less-than-ideal interaction or a situation in which I feel particularly spurned, and that fixation might look like torturing myself over something seemingly stupid I must have said or for talking too much in general (I often ramble when I feel awkward and I feel awkward A LOT). But there is a big difference between causing actual harm and having your work (or yourself) fail to resonate. When I can recognize rejection as a lack of resonance and remind myself I’m no longer amenable to self-contortion, it softens the blow (though it does still hurt) of feeling unwanted or of being poorly received.
When I start more frequently (or ferociously) comparing myself to other people or if I see another person living in a fully embodied fashion and find myself judging or resenting (instead of celebrating) them for doing so, this is a sure sign I am pretending or hiding or out of alignment in my own life. We all have to mask to some degree — some situations require this more than others, some of us do so more often out of habit or necessity or self-protection — but that doesn’t make it not costly to be constantly managing and intentionally orchestrating ourselves in this way. Which is why I am trying to do so less. This means I am more likely to be misunderstood or misrepresented. It’s possible fewer people think I’m nice or agreeable or accommodating. And the truth is, some folks will like your mask more than they like the you underneath. This can be painful, for sure. But I’ve found that allowing myself to be real and awkward and introverted and grieving and weird and obsessive and needy and ALL OF IT has meant feeling ACTUALLY SEEN for the first time after decades of feeling mostly invisible. And, sure, some folks don’t like what they see, aren’t picking up what I’m putting down. But — to my ongoing astonishment — plenty of people appreciate me in my more unfiltered, less defended form and that, y’all, feels fucking great.
Georgia O’Keeffe once said:
“I have settled it for myself so flattery and criticism go down the same drain and I am quite free.”
I wouldn’t say I’ve achieved this level of enlightenment, but I’m working on it.
Here’s to being — and becoming — more of ourselves. Here’s to those who love us for all that we are.
xoxo
❍ Death of the Party by Raven Leilani — I felt this essay deeply
Dying, or being terminal, is not a discrete form of grief. Its borders are strange. The terminal person never truly sees its end. To mourn a person whose death is certain is to be suspended in mourning, grieving not only after it has happened but while it is happening.
❍ Why aren't we talking about the real reason male college enrollment is dropping?
❍ How Far the Light Reaches by Sabrina Imbler — I listened to the audio version of this essay collection and it blew me away
❍ Sharon McMahon on the Everything Happens podcast with Kate Bowler — this conversation gave me hope
❍ Speaking of hope, get yourself some via the most wonderful human, Thérèse Murdza
❍ Take care of each other. We really are all we have.
"When I can recognize rejection as a lack of resonance and remind myself I’m no longer amenable to self-contortion, it softens the blow (though it does still hurt) of feeling unwanted or of being poorly received." This is perfect. Thank you.
Oh, Moira. 🪩
I adore when you are just exactly YOU.