It’s been just over a year since I launched this newsletter.
When I think back to last December, the memories are good. It was a happy month for me. I was working for myself as a freelance journalist and thought I had some of life’s major questions figured out.
It turns out, I didn’t.
Life always seems to be in flux, at least for me. For a long time, I was ashamed of that. I wanted to live up to all that potential my teachers and mentors had seen in me. I wanted my mom to be proud of me. I wanted to check the boxes society expected me to.
Between January and November, some of those good feelings from last December disappeared. It’s taken all this time for me to accept the life I’ve been trying so hard to maintain and build upon isn’t what I thought it was. I’ve fought it off, I’ve resisted, and I’ve been living in conflict with myself. I’ve tried to stay suspended in the land of what-ifs and if-onlys.
All along, though, I’ve known that so much about this life is a fantasy. I can’t blame myself for holding on so tight — I’ve had a lot of loss. And it wasn’t long ago that a pandemic rocked our worlds, made us question our ways of life and, for many of us, took away our most precious loves ones.
It was nice to have something to hold onto, to want and believe in. But it’s no longer reasonable for me to believe I’ll be “settling down” here. Just like the house I rent, the place in my bed is temporary. Reality hits me slowly, then in bursts. So does disbelief, shock. I’ve grieved a lot of my past, and those I lost, and now I grieve the future I thought I wanted — the person I tried to be.
A month ago, the world seemed to be crumbling around me, and all I could see in front of me was uncertainty. On paper, nothing was adding up, nothing was quite where it was supposed to be. But, despite all the frustration and heartbreak, I was at peace with myself. Now I have a feeling that’s new to me: an inner calm.
No, my life doesn’t look stable in the traditional sense. There’s no marriage, no real estate investment, no dependable salary, no baby on the way.
I’m shedding all the identities I held onto for long. The identities that I relied on for stability, direction and comfort. I’m a journalist with no outlet, a cat mom without a cat to cuddle, and, for all intents and purposes, am a single, childless woman nearing my mid-thirties.
Cartoon by Will McPhail.
There’s been times I’ve felt like a failure, like I’m not keeping up at this life thing. I think that’s just a lack of imagination. And, in one way or another, most of us feel a little behind because, the majority of us, cannot do it all — especially all at once.
I’m sad a lot, but I’m happy, hopeful and optimistic a lot too.
I’m scared about the tomorrows and I’m excited about them. Life is crazy and stressful and terrible and awesome. The fact that I can honor my loss, honor my sadness — feel it — and still be grateful for all the love, friendships and opportunities I’ve had in life seems like success to me.
The future is uncertain. I can’t fill in all the details of the who, what, when and where. The only thing I know, and I know it deep in my bones now, is that I am OK. I’ve got me. I’m the through-line, the thread. I’m the main character in my life and my own damn hero. I’ve saved myself so many times and, again and again, I’ve proven that I’m capable, reliable and, when I finally decide I want something, I fight like hell for it. And, even when I feel like I am at my worst, I somehow manage to make real friends, take care of myself and select others, and laugh really, really hard.
That’s kick-ass. (I’m way cooler than I thought I was!)
And, because I’m still a journalist and long for accountability — even when it’s difficult, and even when it is mine — I’m looking back at what I said this newsletter would be when you first signed up for it:
I’m starting this newsletter because it often doesn’t feel OK to talk about our struggles in life or to ask for help. We don’t want to be a burden or a downer. We don’t want others to think we’re always sad or complaining about something.
This can be really isolating.
Really isolating.
Communication, vulnerability, mental health and the world of emotions are what I like to talk about most. So, knowing how difficult it can be for some people to talk about these things, I will. In the weeks and months ahead, I’ll share some things I’ve been through — and am going through now (like working on boundaries) — as well as share resources that have helped me. You won’t be pressured to share, but feel free to.
Don’t worry. I’ll go first.
It’s called “Self-Help Together.” So, this year I’d like to trying adding a new element to this newsletter: a book club. If you’re interested, please fill out this Google form with your preferences and we’ll troubleshoot along the way!
The next week or so might be tough for some of you. Just remember, you are not alone and you’re a lot stronger than you think you are.
With love and appreciation,
Maria