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I don’t know

Hey.

I haven’t written in weeks.

Honestly I haven’t because I’m not feeling helpful or inspiring. 2020 and early 2021 have humbled me. If the past thirteen odd months have shown me anything, these months have shown me that I don’t know shit.

It’s unsettling to not know shit.

Knowing things feels stable, predictable, and comforting.

So instead of writing to my community….

My desire to know shit has led me down strange bunny holes, sometimes empowering often unsettling.

All in the hopes that if I could know more, I would feel safe. I would feel better about being an American.

Sometimes it’s helpful to know things. And sometimes it’s a desperate attempt to find a solid place to land in an extremely topsy turvy time.

Being on a side means certainty, predictability, community but it also means not being on the other side.

And to maintain the sense of comfort and control that comes from being on a side, it means turning away from the other, finding the places to blame or shame or reject.

And I’m not about that.

I know enough about the shadow to understand that anytime we stand secure in our own righteousness enough to find fault with the other, we are really just hiding what we reject about ourselves.

I would rather look for some common places to stand.

And that means I have to live in and get more comfortable with the in between spaces where I have the freedom to be myself and see from all angles and not know shit.

I like the humanity of it. I like the vulnerability that is there, the willingness to be wrong and the commitment to be open.

Sometimes though I am alarmed all over again at the vastness of just how much shit I don’t know… and I feel so lost.

So I turn to Spirit.

I study A Course in Miracles.

I pray.

I meditate.

And I find joy in the moment.

I do art.

I read.

I move.

Or I get lost in beauty and the senses.

I paint my nails (and match the color to my shirt).

Buy some flowers.

Put on some perfume.

Or I take a 1:1 gummy.

For the time being I’m called to write about real shit, personal struggles, the trivial and maybe even the sacred.

I want to be a human on the page without the self-imposed pressure to be helpful or inspirational.

So that’s what I’ll do.

Here are some things I’m thinking of writing about:

The cat,
Home school fuck ups,
My daughter’s therapist,
Psychic protection,
Reading with my ten-year-old,
CBD gummies,
My dog,
Spiritual experiences,
UFO sightings,
Body image,
Tennis,
Conspiracy theories,
Being too direct,
Thoughts about sex,
Ways I get triggered (nosy neighbors, things my husband says, when my kids are slobs, mean fucking people),
Attachment to outcome,
My struggle with impulse control,
Subscription boxes,
Aging,
Stress shopping,
Astrology,
Fucking anxiety,
Tarot.

I don’t have jack shit I want to teach about any of these. I just want to write my experience. One human to another. And maybe vent.

You have been warned. (And there will be cursing.)

So what do you think?

What do you want to hear about first?

“I love you.”

“I love you.” I’m trying to get my kids to tell themselves “I love you,” every time they see themselves in the mirror. They are twelve and ten now, so they roll their eyes at me. In the entry there is a giant mirror. Joy does cartwheels in front of it. Now she makes a... read more