This month’s letter is super honest and probably the most vulnerable I’ve ever been with you all! Definitely felt nervous hitting post on this one. If you stumble across this and are going through something similar, please know you are not alone. Reach out and share. It really helps 💕
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Hello hello! Last time I wrote to you all I was kind of sad. When the quarantine first happened, in a lot of ways, it felt like a much-needed break from my life. I wasn’t happy about what staying home meant for the world, for our health, for our economy, etc. but I did feel a strange sense of relief those first few weeks.
While filled with opportunities I wanted and felt grateful for, by early March, I felt like my days had become mini obstacle courses of too many commitments and plans.
Those first two months alone in my apartment felt like pure bliss. I felt creative. I felt at peace. I was excited to spend time with myself, to reset and dive into projects for my business and career coaching business I had been putting on the back burner.
But by mid-May, something started to shift. It was slow and also all of a sudden in the way I think these things happen. By the time I wrote to you all, I could feel that sadness starting to press down upon me, but I also felt like it was something I could move through—something I would move through—pretty easily. I’ve been trying to sit with my emotions more this last year. To let myself feel all the not so great stuff as much as I feel the really wonderful stuff, and so I thought, maybe this was the universe’s way of testing me in that way.
Weeks later, it no longer felt that way. I felt sad. I felt depressed. I felt this huge sense of despair. Like I was trapped in a wave of thick, negative energy. It felt like I was being judged by this invisible, omnipresent, non-existent jury that was waiting to beat me down if I didn’t deprive myself of every good feeling. I felt guilty for being happy, for feeling any sense of joy.
Weird, I know. But that’s the best way I can describe those feelings, which even now don’t quite make sense to me. All I knew was that they were not healthy feelings, and as each day passed, I found myself staying in bed longer, doing the bare minimum to keep my business afloat, and turning on Netflix earlier and earlier until I had watched all 121 seasons of Gossip Girl, four seasons of Atypical, and the latest season of Working Moms. So in early June, I booked a one-way ticket to Seattle and have been staying my dad’s since.
Flying was a little weird—while you have to wear a mask on the plane, the flight itself was full and a surprising number of people were not wearing masks in the airports. I felt a bit conflicted about the decision to get on a plane, worried I might spread the virus in the process. etc. Ultimately though, it was the right choice for me, and so I made it.
Someone recently told me living alone for the first time is a tough transition. But I don’t think that’s what I experienced. Living alone implies you go out into the world to interact through work, or dance, and other things. I was alone. 24 hours a day, removed from even the smallest interactions of striking up a conversation with a stranger at the grocery store or while walking down the street. I don’t think any amount of phone calls or video hangouts can replace that kind of human connection.
I was open about how I was struggling with everything when I had calls or Zoom chats with friends and family. And yet, I also felt myself withdrawing and retreating from everything and everyone. It was easy to pretend everything was okay behind a screen. Or not even pretend necessarily, but just for everything to be okay while I was on the screen and then sink into an entirely different energy when I turned it off.
After a week of being here, I started to shed these sad, negative feelings and feel more like myself. It’s been about three weeks now and I feel like I am beginning to move again through the world and show up for the people and ideas I care about again.
This too was such a strange feeling, one I don’t think I’ve felt so acutely before. It reinforced to me how important it is to show up for yourself first, how hard it is to show up for others if you don’t “put on your own mask first” (or whatever analogy you resonate with most).
I know I have a tendency to withdraw when I feel overwhelmed, but this recent experience highlighted this behavior for me in a new way. I’ve thought about how this pattern has played out in previous romantic relationships, and how I have become more aware of how to stop it from coming up (and destroying) more recent ones. This shutting down is so in contrast to my natural tendency to over-function when I feel anxious, that the fact that both of these things can show up so strongly in one person feels confusing to me. And yet they do. And despite my ability to recognize these behaviors, I still have to consciously choose differently in the moment, which is still surprisingly challenging for me to do.
What has the last month looked and felt like for you? I’d honestly love to know. Hit reply to let me know how you’re doing.
In the meantime stay healthy and safe, and keep fighting for Black lives. We have a long way to go.
A Few Other Things…
❤️ A father’s beautiful note to his gay son
✊🏿 Watch this movie with someone who doesn’t believe we need to defund the police.
📝 Words and phrases to upgrade your freelance life
🗣 An honest, open conversation about racism and being anti-racist. Free of shaming and filled with stories that powerfully illustrate why a world where we don’t see color is not the goal.
with love,
Brielle