Everything is weird

And it's time that we be real about it

So here we are, coming out of the pandemic.

A whole society going fast again.

Boom boom boom.

Fast fast fast.

More more more.

And we’re all secretly talking to each other about how hard it’s been.

So many people that I’ve spoken to these past few weeks have been telling me about divorces, health issues, major financial stress, break ups, relapses, addictions, mental challenges, etc.

Our society is weird.

Because we all talk about it, secretly.

But no one shares it publicly. So we all think that our lives are especially hard.

Let me break it down a bit.

This. Year. Has. Been. Hard.

And it’s valid to admit it.

It’s okay to admit it.

It’s okay to still feel hopeful. And it’s okay for me to admit that my life has felt hard this year, too.

A Divorce finalized. Cancer. Oof. Those words felt like they had to be capitalized. They have weight to them.

No one really properly prepares us for adulting.

Therapists help.

Workshops help.

Books help.

We’re all running around trying to figure it out, comparing ourselves to the next person to see if we’re doing a good enough job.

This is one of the reasons I write. One of the reasons I share. One of the reasons I create.

I may look back on this post tomorrow and hate it.

But right now, it feels true.

And nothing is more true than what is right here, right now, in my heart.

My hope is always that in sharing, I can connect us all a little bit more.

I can normalize both pain and joy.

I can make the unspeakable spoken about. I can help us all breathe together.

And it’s okay, even when you’re spiritual, to be in moments when you feel disconnected, lost, isolated. It’s okay to feel sad. It doesn’t make you any less spiritual.

If anything, it makes you even more human.

And that humanity is the most spiritual thing that we can gift ourselves with.

Tomorrow, everything may feel glorious again. It’s very rare nowadays that I feel low. But when I feel low, I let it be here.

And I let myself share it.

So that, on your low days, you can feel my hand reaching out to hold yours.

I want to tell you a story from today:

I have been taking swim lessons (one of the bucket list items for me is to learn how to swim - I’ve almost drowned and have always been terrified of the water, but also so pulled to jump into it. One of my deepest desires in this lifetime is to scuba drive. High bar, but whatever).

This was my fourth class. Today, the instructor had me jump into the deep end (exactly how I almost drowned), without a floatie (HOW DARE HE! I am NOT an adult!) and he told me that I could simply swim myself up to the top.

I looked at him in disbelief.

I sank before. People had to pull me out of the pool and call medics. How could I reach it to the top? The water just piled on top of me before. I felt myself dying. I remember looking up and the water above me and drifting off, surrendered.

I looked at him with wide eyes. He smiled and said, “You’re ready.”

And I looked out in front of me.

And I looked at the endless water underneath of me.

And I said to myself, “What have I got to lose?” This almost stranger who I’ve known for three hours is the person I’m going to put my total trust into. But I might as well, what have I got to lose?

You see, in moments where life feels like it’s falling apart, we seem to find an almost careless courage.

We can open our hearts to the moment more deeply.

We can love and trust ourselves more fully, because our external circumstances are no longer there to hold us.

There is no floatie. No fucking floatie anymore.

So I counted down from three. My legs shaking. “Three… Two… One..” Big breath in. Fuck I hope the water doesn’t go up my nose. I don’t even know how to make it not go up my nose.

And I forced my body to jump in.

As soon as I felt the water above me, my body froze, just as it did when I almost drowned as a child.

But in that moment of freeze, I opened my eyes through my goggles, and I said to myself, “MOVE.”

So I started (somewhat frantically) kicking and pedaling my arms.

I started to get a bit of traction.

And then I saw his hand reach down to hold mine.

And then I saw his hand reach down to hold mine.

And then I saw his hand reach down to hold mine.

And then he lifted me up, then let go of me like immediately and told me to tread water (which I literally just learned last week).

Reminded me that I didn’t have to go so fast, that I could relax.

And I looked at him. Then I thought to myself, “You might as well trust him, you have nothing to lose”

I felt myself treading, I saw him smiling at me, and then he asked me to freestyle over to the wall.

I thought to myself, “What? I can’t remember how to move my body to do that”

But I again said to myself, “You might as well try. You might as well trust him. No use in fighting.”

So I did. And I did something like a messy freestyle to the wall.

And I was so out of breathe and had to cough out some water.

But I did the thing.

Because I had nothing else to lose. I wasn’t holding on to anything. I couldn’t even bother not trusting myself or him. It was just me in the water that almost killed me. I had to just jump and let go and trust.

So I did, and then I surprised myself.

And I feel myself in this same era of my life.

Jumping off of the ledge.

Trusting the people around me because I have nothing left to lose.

Receiving their care and support because why not.

Taking their words into my heart because fighting makes me sink, every time.

And I keep letting go, more and more.

And I keep letting go, more and more.