Someone messaged me on Instagram the other day asking if I was okay. Your posts seem kind of sad lately, they said.
That is because I am sad. Aren’t you? Collectively we are tired, we vacillate between rage and sad, try to hold it together long enough to empty the dishwasher, take a walk in search of any amount of sunlight and dopamine, make plans with friends, bonus points when those friends have kids and we can make plans with, and for, our kids together. We ride the train of wanting our kids To Know while doing our best to protect them and create magic.
I am fucking sad. But I’m still here. I never promised fluff or being the go-to for dissociating content. If you’re here most likely you appreciate the duality and complexities of the human experience.
I know I do.
And so, I can be sad and grateful. I can forge ahead, I can bake cookies and take the kids to museums and host holiday parties. I can weep in the bathtub and be out in time to troubleshoot the fridge that was mysteriously at 56 degrees this morning. I can put ointment on Boo’s sensitive feet, I can call representatives, I can organize, I can make baked oatmeal. I can plan holiday movie nights and cookie exchanges. I can laugh about queer relationships, find softness there, feel more gratitude for my community, phone my therapist for an extra session, go on another walk, listen to Christmas carols on vinyl, be honest.
be honest be honest be honest
Here’s the thing-
the last time I decided I wanted to stuff things down and not be honest, I put myself in inpatient care.
that’s the/my truth.
It’s true. It was a culmination of things that stacked on top of each other to create a very distinct and dysphoric sadness that scared me enough to say, okay, it turns out I’m not being honest and I’m not okay. This isn’t my shame, this is my truth. And I wrote about it in a very public type of way and you can read about parts of it here.
Honesty is revolutionary.
My honesty, whether it’s shown in social media or when a friend texts me to ask how I am doing is one of my contributions to the revolution. There is a fine line between trauma-dumping without consent, but if I ask you how you are doing, I want your truth. I want you to tell me that it was hard to get out of bed but then you ate a blueberry muffin and everything felt okay for a few minutes afterwards. I want you to tell me how everything feels hard right now and you’re doing your best to hang in and sometimes that means you don’t feel like you’re hanging on very well after all. I want you to tell me that you’re proud you managed to wash your hair. That your kid got 8/10 correct on their spelling test. That you’re happy for a friend and their recent promotion but that you’re not going out for celebratory drinks because you’re tired and you feel conflicted about that.
and if you’re fine, truly fine, I want you to tell me that, too.
This newsletter, loving me in real life, my social media is not meant to be a place you go when you want to escape. It is a space for calling in, the realities of living, and recipes to sustain us to keep it going. It is where we gather to simultaneously fill and empty our cups, to build community, and then to set aside until we can revisit. That is who I am as a human, and that is what the projects I create are meant for.
So, yes. I am sad. But I am okay and I am okay because I’m honest, you know?
If you need to escape for a minute to laugh and discover something new to cook, come here. And when you need to look closer, come here for that too.
At any rate, I am sad but here is another non-exhaustive list of things that are filling my cup and sustaining me.
Being asked by a friend, what is up with your gender? and having that feel soft- like an invitation for me to let it all tumble out which is what I’m still doing. No, I don’t want top surgery, no I can’t cut my hair because I’m tethered to it for security/spiritual reasons, but right now I hate it. I wish my expression aligned more with what I felt on the inside and I’m working on that.
“I want to snuggle you, momma”, being whispered into my ear at 2 am.
Planning a cookie exchange for Anaya’s coworkers because I love them and they love and support him well and really it isn’t a cookie exchange at all but instead a come over and I’ll feed you posole and make 4 different kinds of treats and send y’all home with them, because shit is hard right now, so come be soft here for a few hours.
Forcing myself to take a walk in the snow and fog, hating it for the first two minutes, and then instantly being glad I did.
Checking the roster for the biscuit class I’m teaching on Saturday and seeing that the class size is quadruple the size of the first one and feeling so, so grateful.
Clean sheets, every Wednesday.
Sitting and striking and doing what we can for a global strike even if we can’t do it all.
Surprising myself with how much I continue to enjoy watercolor paints and finding that I am actually capable of making things that I don’t immediately want to toss in the bin.
The empathy that my seven year old is capable of. She is so good at saying, “it’s okay to be XYZ, momma” and damn, if that doesn’t feel good.
Discussing poetry with the same child.
The way Anaya’s pillow smells like him and relishing in the times I get to roll over to his side of the bed and lay in his spot when he gets in the shower.
Trying on pieces of my wedding dress and watching it come together.
Remembering that we’re getting married in just 3 months, and holding on to the magic that is having something to look forward to.
Speaking of looking forward to- in two weeks we will be in Joshua Tree with some of our best friends which is the exact same as salve for my soul.
Shoveling snow. I know, I might be the minority, but I love it.
Putting my phone down to read.
Midday baths.
Standing firm in what I believe in and never allowing my work to overshadow that, or pretend to be someone I’m not.
Singing in the car with the kids and/or Anaya or all of us.
Group texts about wedding shoes and the list of hundreds of shoes my friend found for me because she’s good at it and I’m not.
Hearing “your capacity to love is special” by a dear friend.
Being honest.
Tell me your truth if that feels good, okay?
I’ll hold whatever it is for you.
Here’s the list of things I am making this week for Anaya’s coworkers. Bake a thing this week. It can be good for The Feels.
Ginger-Molasses Cookies with Rum Butter Glaze
Sugar Cookie Bars (shockingly very good and very simple)
Gluten-free Saltine Toffee (I’m scared of the Glutton Cookies but we’re going to try)
Cranberry Hand Pies with Orange Glaze (this one is a newbie for me! My hand pie recipe but I’ve never done them with cranberries which I am surprised by because I love cranberry baked things!)
The Biggest + Most Honest Love,
AT
Currently Reading: Darkroom: A Family Exposure by Jill Christman
Currently Cooking: I made rope vieja last night and leftovers abound! Wheeeeeee
Currently Listening To: The Feels by Labrinth