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Issue 2: An Unconventional Start
Pivot warning – we’re trading chit-chat about style for something a little more personal and heavy this week.
If you are flying high, feeling fine, fancy, and free, and want to protect your personal Thursday vibe, then this is a great place to hop off – no judgments here. You do you, boo.
I have a confession: I started this newsletter in a wild attempt at normalcy and as a plea to feel like myself again in a cloud of grief.
Business manager Adelyn interjecting for a minute here: Before I totally discredit myself, starting a newsletter is something I’ve been planning on doing and have run adjacent to for years via blogging and writing publicly. It’s a perfect fit and a natural next step, and something I truly am very excited about. But the timing of starting this now is not something that necessarily makes sense at first glane.
On July 20th, I sat in a medical office at 12 weeks pregnant and waited for the sound of a heartbeat that I never got to hear. I had a medical miscarriage a couple of days later. And for the last month, I’ve been doing a poor attempt at swimming through a really shi*** pool of grief and hormones.
No one warns you about grief like this.
And yet, in the last month, I’ve learned that most of us are far more familiar with grief than any of us wish.
We mourn the loss of children, the loss of plans, the loss of spouses and relationships and friends and parents, and personal health. We know the suffocating weight of shock. We know the physical pain of grieving – the waves you can’t breathe through, hearing your blood in your ears and your brain begging you to inhale. And you trying to remember how. We know the days where it feels so heavy that everything goes quiet and flat and numb – where you’re too tired for tears, too tired to change where your eyes look, too tired to try. We know the brief moment of waking up before we remember… before the truth of everything that has changed comes crashing back down.
As humans, we know well this deep, aching pain of loss.
After all, grief is one of the most avoided, shared human experiences that exists.
And learning how shared this human experience is and being cared for by those who know it well has been one of the most comforting and strengthening things during the last month.
On the days that I struggled to climb out from under the pile of the white duvet on my bed, the days where I was too tired to move, too numb to escape, it was this shared experience that reminded me to breathe.
I like the idea that the pain of grief gives way to something powerful, beautiful, and even communal.
This past month, it has been other’s grief and painful past experiences that have allowed them to be with me, telling me that someday I’d start feeling like myself again (they were right), confirming that I wasn’t alone in my confusion, holding me when I felt like I was drowning because they knew the feeling, meeting up for doughnuts and a walk and talking about anything but what I was experiencing because breaks from the heaviness are needed too…reminding me that this too shall pass.
I’m still grieving, and I still feel messy and incapable most days. And I would give anything for this not to be my reality. But I also know that grief doesn’t win. I see that in the people who have cared for us, in their stories, and where and who they are today. And so often in the last week as the grief has started to feel a little less sharp and a little less overwhelming, I find myself marveling that something so devastating and challenging is also something so familiar and shared by most everyone I will ever encounter.
And somehow, we’re still breathing and trying and moving forward. That gives me hope.
Grief may not be the most conventional momentum behind starting a newsletter, but I’m glad that we’re here. It turns out grief can also be very clarifying and a great push to do the things that felt too intimidating before.
Editor Adelyn jumping in now: While grief is very shared, it’s also incredibly personal and complicated. And this is not a space where toxic positivity is welcome. I’m doing ok and moving forward, but also not in a place where I want to go into the details of what has happened or what Seth and I are thinking with our family moving forward (and honestly, neither of us know right now). A large part of my healing process has been writing and creating here and on insta and the blog, so thank you for being here, being a part of this, and being so encouraging and kind. Without even knowing it, you’ve already been a big part of my healing and feeling like myself again.
And now, one more pivot - this time to lighter things because I do have some links for you. There have been some wonderful things this week that you simply must know about:
Seth and I binged the entire first season of this show last weekend. It’s gritty and very, very good.
Cardio dance is back (at least in my living room) with this very fun Doja Cat & Lizzo workout.
Our friends introduced us to the most hilarious, fun, and simple game. And yes, I’m very late to the party on this one; but I’m all in now.
After years of searching, I’m thrilled to share that I have found the perfect no-show athletic socks.
Drop everything and listen to Megan Markle talk with Serena Williams about The Misconception of Ambition.
And that is a wrap on the second issue. If you are enjoying it, I would be so grateful if you would share it with your mom or a friend or the Trader Joe’s employee who loves that chit-chat in the checkout line. Comments are below and I’ll be back in your inbox next Thursday!