I’ve come back to read this a few times so that I can understand it well before commenting. I’m really struck by how this time in life requires a person to either face stuff and transform or knuckle down into patterns of denial. I am definitely on a similar path to you and am encouraged by your courage.
It’s funny, I published this one in first draft form and felt uncomfortable about it since because I think it’s a much larger conversation and I’m not sure substack is the right place (maybe a book?) and you alluded to that larger conversation about facing stuff and transforming versus using our precious life force to avoid, deny, pave over and not transform. I feel called to swim in and with these distinctions because I genuinely believe that healed families and communities are gonna be the houses for grace, (they are now) the kind of radiant nodes where truth and love and respect and purpose can be nurtured into viability. Wanna write a book together? Former (play)pastor and current (some sort of wonderfully examined) pastor unite and make something beautiful helpful and true?
Oh wow. This invitation feels gold and grow-y to me. Thank you. I was just musing this morning about healing and what it is and how we know when it happens and how being human is always a matter of acceptance and humility in some form — I miss this when I default into patterns of controlling other people. And how neat it can be when we recognize bits of ourselves in other people’s stories, and what wisdom/discernment it takes to consider what their story is about for them, and what it can teach us about our own. People are endlessly fascinating. I would love to have a conversation about this, about creating a book about love, more about what motivates you and inspires you and how those things exist for me. I’ll DM you my email.
I wish I could just record myself making sounds while I read your work and leave that as a reply.
I get so caught up in the correctness cerebral tangles that sometimes I forget to cry or laugh or move my body until it is unbearably uncomfortable, because I must. And even with this awareness, I continue to be perpetually self absorbed. Almost like I was built incorrectly and just can’t seem to figure out how to be
Then, last night I watched Night Bitch(on Hulu) it felt so cathartic to see my reality played out on screen.
Being a mother is becoming god. Whatever the journey, I swear I feel like I’m on a freaking quest in the desert with zero chance of getting it right.. and I’m surviving, fuckn it up, trying maybe too hard to have fun.. before I morph into this curmudgeon crone hunchback forcing my meatballs onto anyone who comes to my house.
Also, there was the canna-banana bread earlier, so
You had me at “curmudgeon crone hunchback forcing my meatballs onto anyone who comes into my house.” Jesus girl, you are fucking funny. Also, thanks for writing out your felt sense. Delicious to receive.
I’ve come back to read this a few times so that I can understand it well before commenting. I’m really struck by how this time in life requires a person to either face stuff and transform or knuckle down into patterns of denial. I am definitely on a similar path to you and am encouraged by your courage.
It’s funny, I published this one in first draft form and felt uncomfortable about it since because I think it’s a much larger conversation and I’m not sure substack is the right place (maybe a book?) and you alluded to that larger conversation about facing stuff and transforming versus using our precious life force to avoid, deny, pave over and not transform. I feel called to swim in and with these distinctions because I genuinely believe that healed families and communities are gonna be the houses for grace, (they are now) the kind of radiant nodes where truth and love and respect and purpose can be nurtured into viability. Wanna write a book together? Former (play)pastor and current (some sort of wonderfully examined) pastor unite and make something beautiful helpful and true?
Oh wow. This invitation feels gold and grow-y to me. Thank you. I was just musing this morning about healing and what it is and how we know when it happens and how being human is always a matter of acceptance and humility in some form — I miss this when I default into patterns of controlling other people. And how neat it can be when we recognize bits of ourselves in other people’s stories, and what wisdom/discernment it takes to consider what their story is about for them, and what it can teach us about our own. People are endlessly fascinating. I would love to have a conversation about this, about creating a book about love, more about what motivates you and inspires you and how those things exist for me. I’ll DM you my email.
I wish I could just record myself making sounds while I read your work and leave that as a reply.
I get so caught up in the correctness cerebral tangles that sometimes I forget to cry or laugh or move my body until it is unbearably uncomfortable, because I must. And even with this awareness, I continue to be perpetually self absorbed. Almost like I was built incorrectly and just can’t seem to figure out how to be
Then, last night I watched Night Bitch(on Hulu) it felt so cathartic to see my reality played out on screen.
Being a mother is becoming god. Whatever the journey, I swear I feel like I’m on a freaking quest in the desert with zero chance of getting it right.. and I’m surviving, fuckn it up, trying maybe too hard to have fun.. before I morph into this curmudgeon crone hunchback forcing my meatballs onto anyone who comes to my house.
Also, there was the canna-banana bread earlier, so
You had me at “curmudgeon crone hunchback forcing my meatballs onto anyone who comes into my house.” Jesus girl, you are fucking funny. Also, thanks for writing out your felt sense. Delicious to receive.