So much of what you write resonates with me and always sends me into deep reflection, thank you. I am in a period of my life where I feel very lost and have many doubts I can ever find myself or heal. Or maybe it's more of getting to know and being comfortable with myself. I feel like I have lost so much of who I used to be, and I want that person back desperately sometimes, but I try to hold onto the idea that whenever I get through this torturous time, I will be more whole.
I really liked this part, "We lose and find ourselves over and over. We know and un-know ourselves in various stages and phases of life. We toggle between clarity and confusion not because we are somehow lacking, but because to be human is to be constantly shifting and changing, becoming and unbecoming, learning and unlearning— never being just one thing."
I’m not even sure what to say. I’m at a loss for words but deeply appreciate your work. Thank you so much for sharing yourself with the world through your writing. Sending lots of love this Mother’s Day season. 🤍
Beautiful and powerful words. I’m so glad I discovered your newsletter and will recommend it to readers of my “Changing Lives” newsletter.
I lost myself in multiple ways recently and all of 2021 was pure hell. Thankfully I am finding myself again and writing online has been a key part of my healing and new life. I hope that is true for you too!
Oh, how your words resonate. I am also approaching my first Mother’s Day as mum to my firstborn son, and there is something about motherhood — about becoming one of the ancestors — that for me has been disassembling some of that subconscious sense of being a human dead end. I love what you wrote about seeing yourself as part of a lineage, as well as how beautifully you laid out the thought of being with the hurt instead of becoming a representation of the hurt. Thank you for sharing a tiny part of your interior landscape with such vulnerability.
Thank you for your heartfelt words. I feel I understand in a small way. I wasn't abandoned but I wasn't a wanted child. It has taken me a long time to accept that it wasn't my fault, reading your words has only enforced that. Thank you.
This week, Jessi Klein’s essay in The Cut has been showing up in so many corners of my life. I think her premise of the Mother heroine’s journey is profound. She is naming an essential part of matrescense (thank you to sociologist Dr. Sophie Brock for introducing me to that concept) that is mostly invisible to those outside of it and often undefined to those experiencing it. It deserves recognition and support. Sending love to you, Lisa, in these early days of mothering both your babe and your self. And thank you for this letter, which illuminated for me the false promise of the Before and After paradigm. There are moments that shape us, yes, but not as clearly and precisely as we’ve been led to believe. I think we are always--all at once--leaving and arriving and en route to versions of our self. I hope my journey arcs toward my truest version, as I (start to) accept there is no final destination.
So much of what you write resonates with me and always sends me into deep reflection, thank you. I am in a period of my life where I feel very lost and have many doubts I can ever find myself or heal. Or maybe it's more of getting to know and being comfortable with myself. I feel like I have lost so much of who I used to be, and I want that person back desperately sometimes, but I try to hold onto the idea that whenever I get through this torturous time, I will be more whole.
I really liked this part, "We lose and find ourselves over and over. We know and un-know ourselves in various stages and phases of life. We toggle between clarity and confusion not because we are somehow lacking, but because to be human is to be constantly shifting and changing, becoming and unbecoming, learning and unlearning— never being just one thing."
I’m not even sure what to say. I’m at a loss for words but deeply appreciate your work. Thank you so much for sharing yourself with the world through your writing. Sending lots of love this Mother’s Day season. 🤍
Beautiful and powerful words. I’m so glad I discovered your newsletter and will recommend it to readers of my “Changing Lives” newsletter.
I lost myself in multiple ways recently and all of 2021 was pure hell. Thankfully I am finding myself again and writing online has been a key part of my healing and new life. I hope that is true for you too!
Oh goodness, thank you for sharing Epiphany in the Baby Food aisle. I feel it so deeply in my bones today.
Oh, how your words resonate. I am also approaching my first Mother’s Day as mum to my firstborn son, and there is something about motherhood — about becoming one of the ancestors — that for me has been disassembling some of that subconscious sense of being a human dead end. I love what you wrote about seeing yourself as part of a lineage, as well as how beautifully you laid out the thought of being with the hurt instead of becoming a representation of the hurt. Thank you for sharing a tiny part of your interior landscape with such vulnerability.
Thank you for your heartfelt words. I feel I understand in a small way. I wasn't abandoned but I wasn't a wanted child. It has taken me a long time to accept that it wasn't my fault, reading your words has only enforced that. Thank you.
This week, Jessi Klein’s essay in The Cut has been showing up in so many corners of my life. I think her premise of the Mother heroine’s journey is profound. She is naming an essential part of matrescense (thank you to sociologist Dr. Sophie Brock for introducing me to that concept) that is mostly invisible to those outside of it and often undefined to those experiencing it. It deserves recognition and support. Sending love to you, Lisa, in these early days of mothering both your babe and your self. And thank you for this letter, which illuminated for me the false promise of the Before and After paradigm. There are moments that shape us, yes, but not as clearly and precisely as we’ve been led to believe. I think we are always--all at once--leaving and arriving and en route to versions of our self. I hope my journey arcs toward my truest version, as I (start to) accept there is no final destination.