I found a blog post I wrote in 2016 about my gratitude practice.
In it, I explain that I keep notecards, addresses, and stamped envelopes in my journal, so that I can easily send “little happy notes” to people I was grateful for. I included a photo of what I was talking about—and wowee kazowee, if it wasn’t a journal that remained dormant for years and envelopes that never ever got sent. I lied. I lied because I wanted the world to see my robust healthiness. And to convince myself I was better off than I really was.
Hilarious.
Among the other now-unpublished posts, I found a photo where I had taken all the clothes from my closet and painstakingly hung them on my shower rod to make them look more beautiful. One entry features my “one pair of sandals” and brags pretentiously about how I only needed six pairs of shoes (I didn’t leave the house in those days). Other posts lecture about healthy ways to treat yourself featuring bad stock images, reminders about how toxic doubt is in our lives, a post that refers to my friend as a “kickass broad” (wtf), and one contains this absolute gem of a line:
“I can actually live without coffee, but a good beer now and again is bae.”
My horse, in those days, was high and blitzed to hell. Fear held the reins while I wrapped my hands around its waist, trying not to fall off. I was grasping for authority, for relevance, and making myself look like a fool in the process. I was drinking way more beer than I claimed to be, and none of my skincare recommendations were working.
But then I read titles like this: “On Being A Faucet Of Compassion When There Seems To Be Nothing Else But Drains” and I am heartened and full of lols. I read and remember the story about the young man next to me on a plane who began sucking on his fingers one at a time, just before landing at LAX.
I am glad my hoity-toity blogging days happened. I am glad my hoity-toity newsletter days have just begun.
Because it only ever reminds me to keep paying attention.
Next Steps: Drink a glass of water, ACTUALLY write up a little love note to someone who has supported you, and use the last stamp you have to send it.
Wandering through old linguistic stomping grounds