Hi friends!
Sometimes I want to start these letters as if we’re already in the middle of a conversation. As if we’re just sitting in my favorite coffee shop, catching up. We can agree to ignore the fact that sitting inside a coffee shop right now sounds like a pandemic nightmare, but it used to be one of my favorite things to do. Favorite places to go.
Anyways, earlier this week I had a phone call with a loved one that was… unpleasant. I will spare you the details, but since I promised at the beginning of this thing that I’d always write what was weighing on my heart, here we go.
Throughout the course of the call, it became increasingly clear that the other person didn’t realize and, perhaps, couldn’t grasp that I’m not feeling “back to normal,” or that these last 12 months have taken a supreme toll. Until I started to cry (on FaceTime, might I add — not a cute look, I assure you), it had not occurred to them that I was not — I don’t know — completely healed and over everything that the last year chewed up and spit out on my doorstep.
Now, the reason I’m sharing this — besides the fact that it’s been stuck on my mind since it happened — is not to complain or rehash a bad evening. (I care deeply about the person this conversation was with, and we’re all good.) It’s to point out what became vividly clear to me after that conversation — that people do not know how you’re feeling unless you tell them.
Actually, there’s a quote that sums it up more eloquently than I can:
“Just because someone carries it well, doesn’t mean it’s not heavy.”
That’s a quote I have had saved in my brain for many years, and for some reason I never remember it until moments like this. But it’s true, isn’t it?
No one knows if you’re underwater. No one knows if you’re scared. They don’t know if you’re dealing with debilitating anxiety, or are exhausted, or need a break. They don’t know — especially now, when (as we talked about last Friday) most everyone’s feeling some flavor of pandemic-fine themselves. Unless, that is, you let them know, and let them in… preferably before it has built up, up, up and then exploded on a random Wednesday. Just saying.🤷♀️
That conversation and that quote got me thinking about other aspects of my life. Of those things in our lives that are heavy, and the idea of being the strong one. The resilient one. The positive one. I mean, those are certainly lovely descriptors and most of us would probably deeply appreciate being described as such, but sometimes… well, sometimes I would like to not have to be strong, or resilient. I wouldn’t change anything about my life (I mean, beyond most of 2020), but that doesn’t mean I don’t get tired of carrying it all, regardless of whether or not I’m smiling through it. I bet you do, too.
My mom and I used to talk about this sometimes, and while I miss her all the time, I definitely miss being able to call her and let her help carry my load. We all need someone to help occasionally, and I just hope we know to ask — even if your go-to person is currently otherwise occupied. (Why did this just make me think of the “PIVOT!” episode of Friends?) I will also admit that I do not love talking about this — not one bit, even to strangers on the internet — so if you can relate at all, I sure hope you’ll let me know.💛 (Sometimes, writing here — or blogging in general — can feel like like calling out into the void, and hoping someone echoes back.)
On another, similar note, I was listening to an episode of one of my favorite running podcasts yesterday, and the guest said something that has since been reverberating in my head:
You can do anything, but you can’t do everything.
Let’s say that out loud together, shall we? You can do anything, but you can’t do everything.
I need a tattoo that says that, or at the very least, a billboard in my living room. You can be strong and positive and resilient, and you can want to handle everything… but eventually, a ball is going to drop. And maybe that was never a problem pre-March 2020! Maybe you didn’t have to think twice about juggling everything before, or keeping yourself composed and put together, but now, that’s just not the case. I mean, I can’t speak for you, but I’ll sure as heck speak for me, and I definitely have things dropping left and right. (Remember in the summer when everyone on social media was complaining about having all this “extra” time because of the pandemic? 🤣) Let them go. Let them fall. You can always pick everything back up again, later — I promise.
I hope you have the Friday-est Friday, friends. You deserve it. (And yes, we’ve gotten to the point in pandemic life where I’m just making up words.)
I’m rooting for you,
Joelle
This was a lot of what I needed to hear/read. Those 2 quotes are so true and I’m definitely putting them on sticky notes to remind me. Thanks for sharing!
"People do not know how you're feeling unless you tell them." This really resonated with me. After my miscarriages, it frustrated me that everyone seemed to treat me like I was fine, when I was absolutely not fine. But for the most part, I acted fine because I didnt want to seem like a gray cloud. Seeking counseling and being honest with my husband and a few close friends was so therapeutic. Sending you tons of love, old friend ❤️.