this is me trying

on luxuriating in that elusive January flow, feeling joy unapologetically, and being gentle in your humanness

I’ve been taking a lot of candlelit baths lately. And, journaling until my hand aches. I haven’t been drinking alcohol, having succumbed this year to Dry January.¹

After four crazed hours on New Year’s Day, my laundry room is organized and clear of clutter, some of which was still boxed from the move here in 2020. In the past two weeks, I have miraculously broken through a creative dam, prompting me to refresh my living room with more art and more mood lighting—things I have wanted to add for years (literally! it’s okay to have a long-ass creative block!), but became actionably inspired after hosting our holiday book club meeting in December and dear friends on New Year’s Eve. I’m currently shopping for the perfect paint color for my kitchen (my current inspiration here), a light fixture and table for my dining room, and any cool vintage effects I can find at my favorite consignment stores.

I’m in a solid routine of moving my body at Dance Church or in hot yoga classes—purposefully (even if not always successfully) focusing on the joy of endorphins and getting stronger versus the punishment of a Workout Regime and fitting into a certain clothing size. I’m also doing these things with friends or with my partner sometimes, and other times alone. The mix of solo and active friend time has been a lovely shakeup in my otherwise stale routine.

What I’m saying is: January has arrived in all its glory with the hopeful promise of a new page. The start of this year has brought with it introspection and gentle discipline for me, which has eased some of the noise in my brain—noise that was so prominent in 2024. Things are feeling good on the home front. And the energy is ENERGETIC. I’ve hit that rare flow, and I’m luxuriating in it and, delightfully, having fun.

Meanwhile, outside of my warm hearth and home and clear-headed flow, fires ravage California—here is one good place to donate if you’re at a loss of how to help. The political environment is rife with anxiety-provoking warnings from the impending administration of dangerous, oligarchical dunces taking the helm on Monday. Having watched just a sampling of the cabinet confirmation hearings has left me hoarse from rage-screaming. And, everyone I know is, to some degree, struggling, angry, exhausted, and/or numb to the existential American ethos crumbling before us.

So, um, like, what do I do with this gorgeous, sparkling flow in my personal sphere? What about my creative clarity?? I’m still feeling the undercurrent of this existential dread (who could escape it?!), so maybe this dichotomy is the very essence of what it means to be an adult human in the 21st century. Navigating personal growth in the choppy waters of worldwide dysfunction, decline, and despotism? I want to refuse this narrative, but here we are.

In this moment, though, I have been able to create some space and attain a semblance of personal respite. The dichotomy isn’t lost on me—maybe my Gemini sun (hiiii, *hair flip*) is helping me navigate the duality. Or, maybe there isn’t much of a dichotomy, and I’m just overthinking (well, actually…). Whatever the case may be, and not to be overly trite, I’m accepting the things I cannot change (i.e., the world), summoning the courage to change the things I can, and hoping my intuition is savvy enough to know the difference.

And, let’s be honest: I’ve still gotten salty about choosing to do Dry January, cursed in the mornings from muscle aches (getting back into shape as a 38 year old is a humbling experience), and written myself into rhetorical circles in my journal.

This is me trying.

I’m riding the coattails of this peace and clarity in my own body and home while I can—while it lasts. Reflecting on my reflective month so far (yes how very meta of me), I’m realizing that I’m finally and seriously taking the time to feel strong and grounded in mind, body, and soul. On its face, isn’t this an abominably selfish practice with everything that’s going on in the world? Maybe. This is certainly what my perfectionist, judgmental, scarcity-thinking voice in my head would lecture. But, if further poked and prodded, isn’t this actually the ultimate act of love and support for myself and my community?? I’m bold enough to assert this is the case. After all, I am embracing an abundance mindset this year.

Community has always been important to me, but over the course of the past few years, I’ve been especially obsessive on the concept of community—how to build it, how to nurture it, how it can be a verb (thank you, again, Colleen), how to show up in it, how to show up for it, how to honor it, how to ask for help from it, and, above all, how to make it more analog—more in person and more personal. And, circling back to those “Big Ds” (dysfunction, decline, and despotism), making our communities stronger becomes integral to any kind of happiness we hope to have as humans.

My thoughts return, again and again, to the human elements of community, especially as the Tik Tok ban and AI in social media discourse becomes more and more dystopian. We need the third place. We need to say hi to our neighbors. We need in person interactions. Forgoing the desolate wilderness of Being Online, I just want to hang out with my partner, my friends, my loved ones—you remember hanging out, right?? If I swim deeper into the depths of my motivations during this energetic start of the year, it’s this very desire that is fueling the clarity, the flow, and the self-love.

I want to tell funny stories to my partner who sits beside me on the couch so I can feel the cushions vibrate from his laughter. Lol, and then I said…

I want to bump hands as we both reach our potato chips into the burrata while she fills me in on all the hot goss from the local community theater. No way! How many people called to complain??

I want to hold my friend’s hand greasy from the buttery popcorn we’re housing in a dark movie theater and sneak side eye glances. Yes, it’s a little gross, but I have hand sanitizer, do you want some? And, oh my god, this scene is wild.

I want to cheers my friends in a crowded restaurant for their accomplishments. Clink, clink! wowowow the restaurant is opening this month!?

I want to sing Celine Deon with her during a sweaty Dance Church session after collapsing to the floor from the ungodly amount of squats the instructor so joyfully inflicts upon us. Because you LOVEDDD MEEE.

I want to gather in my living room with Dear Readers Book Club ladies and yap about books for hours. Ask me about my book club!

I want to host dinner parties, and meet for happy hour, and go to the spa together. What are you wearing? I’m on my way! I’m bringing that eye cream I’ve been raving about, you have to try it!

I want to be human with my people. And, I want to remember what that means.

Being human means that sometimes we’re going through it and sometimes it means we are the one bearing witness to their “it”. “It” being trauma, grief, loss, stress, financial anxiety, chronic illness, injury, sickness, rage for good reason, bad hair days, cloudy thoughts, I stained my favorite sweater, PMS, bad bosses, demanding children, rage for no reason—and on and on “it” goes. We’re all always going through “it” to a certain degree, but each of our “it” will necessarily ebb and flow. When the ebb is ebbing, the hope and ideal is to use that time to recharge, retreat, recenter, re- re- re- all the way home so that you can hold space for his, her, or their “it”. We take turns.

Taking care of ourselves helps us show up for our loved ones. This is not a revolutionary idea, nor is it negotiable—I venture to guess each of our mother figures, mentors, and confidantes say this in so many words regularly. And, even if we roll our eyes, or say yeah yeah maybe later, we know it in our bones to be true. Listen to your bones!

It’s counter-intuitive though, and not everyone gets it. A former friend of mine raged against my self-care and prioritization of my mental health as “selfish, self-centered, and frivolous.” We were in our 20s then and in the eye of the storm—figuring out who the adult versions of ourselves were as capitalism and our society pushed a lot of crap onto us under the guise of self-care. It was a lot to balance then—it is a lot to balance even now.

I see my 24 year old sister navigating these waters now. You’re doing great, sis. As a 20-something, I didn’t always get it right, because, duh, your 20s are for experimentation if nothing else. It’s absolutely true that some of my self-care was selfish, self-centered, and/or frivolous. BUT, and this is a big “but,” not all of it was. Being human is a practice, right? It’s a life-long trial and error. A smorgasbord of missteps and mistakes. Good friends, good partners—good community—will afford you the space and grace to figure it out. You just have to keep showing up saying this is me trying.

All this being said, this is me trying to be gentle in my humanness, one January day at a time. This is me trying to seek delight where I can find it, even in the middle of a sweaty tree pose. This is me trying to give myself and others space and grace, even if I curse the Dry January after a day in a zoom mediation. This is me trying to enjoy the flow while it’s flowing. This is me trying to rest when I’m going through my “it.”

And, amidst all of the trying, you can find me unapologetically feeling joy, especially when I’m in community with my humans.

1. I found this NYTimes Opinion piece to be thought-provoking on the matter. Thank you, Amanda, for sending it to me.