Summer outside, Fall in the body

Listening to

I read a book many years ago about someone in the wellness industry who was known for veganism. She hit a point where she was ready to integrate animal products into her diet, and felt deep shame and fear about coming out as a meat-eater to her community.

Earlier this Summer, I decided I was ready to try anxiety medication. As a yoga teacher and someone who prefers watermelon juice over gatorade, totes dates as nature’s candy—the internal + external struggle to accept this shift has been net difficult. I started telling my circle—similar to the vegan lady, no one cared! And they were on them too! Imagine??

A few weeks ago I crashed out. The spaciousness didn’t yet exist, and what did exist of it was riddled with fear—I didn’t want to be alone. The SSRI isn’t working yet ( :(((( lmao) but I’m taking it every day, alongside my supplements and eating my fruits and veggies. It was when my doctor told me I have a slight case of scurvy that I laughed out loud and said, I’m so sorry—what is going on with me? Babe, eat fruit.

I’m rewatching Girls for the third or fourth time. It’s the only show I can stand to rewatch, because I think it’s so funny and relatable. I struggle with beginnings and endings, and also the middle part because I know an ending is inevitable. Letting go, letting go, letting go. I’m waiting patiently for the SSRI to work—yes, I’m doing yoga and meditating too. Imagine not strong-arming life? How will I know when it’s working? Is it like a magic trick?

My 28th year started with getting bitten by a dog while with my closest friends upstate. I threw up 2x that night, which Nick assured me wasn’t a symptom of rabies (it was).

August last year I was in Paris, then Iceland. I wanted to take a trip before I started graduate school. I was teaching yoga full-time after leaving my once dream job—I took a major chance on myself, and people took a chance on me (not a bad bet if you ask me now).

I found god in Paris and she was in myself—constant pings of oh, there I am. Hiii. I stayed in the perfect flat and watched Mrs Maisel before bed every night. I practiced French and started to catch on that my mind loves a job. I bought stuff to draw with, went to the cinema, e-biked like I was getting paid for it.

Then I was in Iceland. I quickly felt acutely aware of my aloneness. Never one to feel like I need a crutch, I thought maybe I should have come here with a friend. I made the most of the trip. A dog literally knocked on my door and I think she was a fairy, cause she was my dream dog and got me out of my head. I remember eating a lot of bread with butter and pesto and calling Grant, crying that I broke the blinds in the AirBnB, and I was too scared to drive into the mountains. I didn’t post that on Instagram! Not because I didn’t want anyone to know, but Instagram is short-form and joyful, and I’ve found Substack to be long-form and full-body.

Back in New York, nothing could have prepared me for the school year ahead. It was the fastest year of my life and one of the most challenging. I confirmed that my mind LOVES a job, and school work is the perfect task for my brain. Navigating graduate school at an Ivy League, working part-time, balancing friendships, relationships, keeping my apartment livable, FEEDING MYSELF, learning about an impossible topic, experiencing depression for the first time, moving my body—I mean, it’s no wonder I crashed out this July.

My friend and I shared our grad school experiences over spicy crab linguine at our favorite restaurant. We talked about school, small bikinis, relationships. We talked about how we barely got through July and August—our last two months of the program—our bodies and minds were revolting. It was an unfamiliar feeling, which was shocking in itself.

Salted Sun talked to me via voice notes when I got covid and was taking 2 hour walks in my neighborhood. She told me the mind isn’t discerning; you have to tell it what to think. Maybe the best advice I ever got.

I’ve been going through a bit of a rough patch (for 8 months hehe). I knew something was off when I realized I had everything I wanted, but didn’t feel good. Soon it’s the part where I have the space to start something new. Room 8 is the laundry room, stick with it, even when it’s hard and know when to start over. Repetition breeds insight. A new job, apartment, a dog.

One of my favorite journal prompts is, if it weren’t too late I’d…

I keep the Katonah magic square on my desk, so I can reorient whenever I need, which is often. 1 drop in, 2 rise up, 3 left hand. I crave a flipped wrist and the joy that comes with breath work.

I have as much time as I want to write today. There isn’t something I have to get to, which is…unfamiliar. What’s even more unfamiliar is luxuriating in spaciousness. The candle is lit, the music is on, the birds are fed, the inbox is quiet. I’m being left alone. I made cookies (from scratch) yesterday. I watched 2 episodes of drag race with Lea. This spaciousness feels alien and so, so good.

I think I’m the only person on earth who kept up with And Just Like That this season. It wasn’t good but it wasn’t bad. I might not be having a hot girl summer, but I’m also not not having a hot girl summer. Fixing scurvy is kinda hot. I shouldn’t have googled scurvy symptoms.

My anxiety often gets the better of me, where I ask Lea to ask things for me. In which Lea likes ending their sentences with “oh, and they wanted me to tell you they hate you”—which makes me laugh every time.

I’ve been enjoying reading Substack posts that are kind of about nothing but writers talk about their daily thoughts and doings, and there’s the same solace as when I watch Girls and read a book.

I’ve been reading All Fours and Big Swiss. On Substack I’ve been reading everything Lord Cowboy and Milk and Cookies. If you have recs like those please tell me!

I hope to write more now that I have more time, and maybe it will be about something or it’ll just be about what’s going on.