The small things are the big things

your healing is yours to keep

Lily, hand–colored collotype from Some Japanese Flowers (1896) by Kazumasa Ogawa via rawpixel

Hi friends,

This spring has been an especially challenging season for me. For a variety of reasons, my complex ptsd symptoms have been flaring up more frequently over the past several weeks. Whenever this occurs, it feels undeniably (to me, at least) like I’ve backslid entirely, like all the years of therapy and confronting my trauma and owning my shit and being kind to myself and DOING ALL THE RIGHT THINGS have been in vain, like I am exactly where I was ten years ago when this process of healing (i.e. of trying to stay alive) truly began in earnest. This is not accurate, of course. I am not the person I was a decade ago. My internal experience might feel familiar, but I am fundamentally not the same.

None of us are. We are always and inevitably being changed by our lives. Any wisdom we cultivate, perspective we gain, insights we uncover are ours to carry with us into every subsequent chapter. Any healing we do is ours to hold onto.

I long ago stopped expecting myself to somehow “cure” my anxiety or to never again feel depressed. Trying to eradicate these things from my life was unrealistic at best, actively harmful at worst. I am not a robot, I am a deeply feeling creature. I have survived brilliantly and creatively (and some days begrudgingly) for nearly forty-three years. This is not a small feat. It is a miracle. It signifies hope.

Remaining hopeful in a world without my mom is not easy. (Not to mention the many horrors currently being perpetrated around us.) It requires discipline. It requires silly little pep talks and uncontrollable crying. It requires listening to her favorite song on repeat and walking a million mental health miles and staying mostly sober. It requires feeling my feelings and also not feeling my feelings when feeling them feels like too much. It requires lifting heavy and breathing deeply and journaling furiously. It requires staying hydrated and being well fed. It requires honesty and boundaries and belief in something bigger. It requires surrender. It requires taking consistent action, countering outdated narratives, and being brave enough to burden others before I burn out trying to go it alone.

I wish I had a tidy little something with which to wrap up this short note, but I don’t. What I want to say is this: Sometimes healing feels like standing still. Or like going backwards. Or like being 9 or 15 or 23 years old even though you’re actually 42. Sometimes healing feels like not healing. Sometimes healing feels like being stuck.

But: YOU ARE NOT STUCK. I promise.

Keep trying and crying and raging, keep making mistakes, keep feeling confused, keep learning and losing and changing your mind, keep letting your people love you.

threads is full of comic relief, i tell you what

May we find moments of delight amidst the chaos of this life. Thank you, sincerely, for being here.

xoxo

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1. My Brain Finally Broke — on what ai/the internet is doing to us all

2. I Am So Fucking Tired of Listening To Women My Age Complain About Being Old and Washed — BIG SAME

3. what my mother’s wardrobe taught me about style and grief after she died — beautiful, I cried

4. Girl on Girl: How Pop Culture Turned a Generation of Women Against Themselves by Sophie Gilbert — as an elder millennial woman, this book hit HARD

5. What’s the Point? — Heather Havrilesky never misses

6. What is America’s Pro-Natalism Movement Really About — TERRIFYING