I'm sitting in a once unfamiliar coffee shop that has now become very familiar to me. I know not to sit in the booths at the front, because you will sink in too much and not get any work done. I know the names of the baristas who work the morning and the afternoon shifts, because we talk about life for five minutes when I walk in and before I leave. I know that the lock on the bathroom door downstairs sometimes seems broken, but it isn't, you just have to pull extra hard. In fact, I got the idea for this letter while looking in that bathroom mirror.
Here's a little story, or perhaps less of a story, but more of an update; an entry; a documentation of this time for both myself and for you. Joan Didion did say that she writes entirely to find out what she's thinking.
We moved to New York in the middle of May, when everything was beautiful and new and not this hot. Up until this week, we have been in the city for no more than a handful consecutive days in row. Almost immediately after making a six floor walk-up on the east side our home, we traveled to Spain for one week, got
engaged and celebrated in D.C. the next, visited my college town for a board meeting, resided there for one week to attend our friends’ wedding nearby the following weekend, trained
back to D.C. to see my very best friend get ENGAGED!, hopped on a flight the same day to attend our friends’ wedding in Austin, stayed there for about a week in what I like to call my ~adulthood~ home with my other set of best friends (Monise and Cee, duh), then finally returned home for seven days before flying to California for a quick trip to see both
my office in person for the first time one year in, and a beautiful and meaningful beach trip with some of my amazing family-to-be. I'm grateful for each of these moments and memories that God has hand-crafted for me. But are you as mentally exhausted as I am reading this?
In that time, I’ve had relentless anxiety attacks (that I can't quite get under control, despite knowing how to manage them because I started
experiencing them when I was 10). I’ve navigated the overwhelming and capitalistic and patriarchal fanfare around being engaged (I'm so excited to marry my bestie, but why does no one seem to talk about how scary it is preparing to partake in something so sacred? And what it means to change the name you've had forever? Mine, specifically, has a complex and meaningful history in and of itself). I’ve avoided friends when I’m stressed about work or figuring out where my winter clothes will fit instead of reaching out to them (it’s
a health benefit, by the way, but tell that to my brain). I've spent an arm and a leg to move (and ya know, be alive). I've gained 10 pounds from drinking and eating out so much and am learning to be comfortable with my body while I work on it. I’m figuring out how to be myself around co-workers that I don’t see in person and really only talk to online. I've had a fever this week (surprise: it's back this morning), and the week before that I went to urgent care for what feels like a never-ending elevated heart rate (they told me I was fine, but to limit my caffeine and alcohol intake and reduce my stress levels, which is precisely what every 27-year-old wants to hear).
All of this to say, I am learning now more than ever before how to take care of myself. For the last two weeks of July, I have cleared my calendar almost entirely, other than one commitment I made a month ago. When my therapist asked yesterday how I’m taking care of myself, I broke down and cried, because I realized I don’t know how lately. Yesterday night, I took myself to dinner to think about that.
If you've been in this space since the beginning you
already know that I’ve stepped away from Instagram here and there to figure out what exactly that platform means to me, because currently and frankly, I hate it. It feels very shallow. Sometimes, I want to be shallow and basic too, and I WILL (See
here,
here, and
here.) But I get it, though, because it also feels terrifying to be vulnerable right now, especially online where anyone and everyone can see your struggles and use them against you. This is coming from someone who has made
YouTube videos since she was 12 (I should probably delete them…but I just can't bring myself to do it.)
I'm digging and unearthing and looking for how to be inspired and hopeful amidst such national and international tragedy, and the knowledge that some people simply don’t care about learning how to best respect and understand and care for others. How do you live with that? How do you combat the pain and the veil of the online world?
Maybe it's more honesty, in whatever way or form you're capable of gifting it. Maybe it's feeling less alone by inviting others in. Maybe it's sharing a piece of yourself: the too muchness, the not enoughness, the just rightness. Maybe, just maybe, it's more of this.
Thank you for reading and sharing in this life with me. Reply if you need me, or want to chat about something you've been going through as well. See everyone — especially my New York friends — in August!
