There was at least a month of days that were extremely bleak. I don’t know about y’all, but being alive is the hardest thing I have ever done.

Today is the first Sunday of Advent. For a girl who was raised as a non-liturgical protestant, I have a deep affection for the liturgical calendar. Advent is the best part of the liturgical calendar (I don’t know if I should say that, but here I am). There is an anticipation in the Advent season… the building up to something we know we will celebrate. In the darkness of the winter, there’s a buzz and a light that works its way to us, a high that’s carried in on the chilly wind and settles over at least a little part of us. Something good is coming. That’s WAY more exciting than, say, Lent, where we are giving stuff up (for a reason!!!) (that’s a super simplistic way to describe the lenten experience - please turn to better people to actually talk to you about the importance of Lent). And Holy Week? Holy Week is absolutely brutal.

The interesting thing though, in all of it, is that the centerpiece, the thread, the tie that binds each of those seasons is hope. Whether the hope feels like a steady buildup, or showing up at the end empty and tired and dehydrated. Hope in a dark night. Hope in a dry desert.

And that’s why my engine ran out of steam. I got to the point where hope felt so incredibly foolish. I had hoped over and over and over again. And been let down over and over and over again. In October, at some point, I decided that the effort of hope was no longer worth it. I’m not sure it was a conscious decision. I don’t think I woke up one day and was like, “I think I shall stop hoping now.” I think it leaked out of me, and I did nothing to stop the leak. I wasn’t unaware. When you love life as much as I do, you feel every ounce of your will to live as it slowly leaves your body. When you have been relentless, there is no way you are caught unaware by the fact that you are relenting. But I was so so tired.

One of my friends called me and I told him this. I told him that I had run out of hope, and that at this point I didn't even know what I was hoping for. I told him that I had no proof that hope was even worth it. And you know what he did?

He laughed at me.

If I had been talking to anyone else on this planet, I probably would have hung up. But I laughed with him, because some people can just do that in our lives. Then he said something I have not stopped thinking about since.

“I’m sorry to laugh. But isn’t that the point? Isn’t that… what hope is? That’s the whole thing.”

Isn’t that the point?

I have thought that phrase to myself everyday since he said it. Which, I haven't told him, and he won’t know until he reads this newsletter. (He’s also terrible with compliments so a whole section of the stack devoted to him is going to be so upsetting. Shouldn’t have laughed at me, I guess).

Isn’t it so funny the things people say to us that catch us off guard? That stick with us and change us? That can help help clean the lens that we are looking through, and help us remember where we are when we can’t see the forest for the trees? A four word question, asked through laughter, and my mindset pivoted.

There are no guarantees in hope. That’s the whole thing. Which makes it a slippery little bastard. Have you all read Hope is the Thing With Feathers by Emily Dickinson? It’s a very famous poem.

I used to love this poem. But as of recent events, I must disagree vehemently with the late, great Ms. Dickinson. In extremity, I have found that hope asks everything of me. It has asked me to follow it’s lead without knowing where we are headed. It has asked me to hold on tight, even if the only thing left I have to hold on with are my fingernails. Every day it whispers in my ear, “You either trust me or you don’t,” and it’s up to me to decide if I stick around long enough to see if trusting it has made any sense at all. Hope has taken me through trials and tribulations that I didn’t even know to imagine could be on the road ahead of me.

Hope is very much whoever wrote the little kid’s bear hunt song singing, “You can’t go over it, you can’t go under it, you have to go through it.” Hope is asking me to keep walking even though I am empty and tired and dehydrated. And when I challenge it, when I question if it’s even worth it at all, when I point out that I have no way to know that it’s taking me anywhere good, it looks at me and says, “Isn’t that the whole point?”

I read this poem by Caitlin Seida recently, and I believe this is the one that was written for me:

Able to find a way to go on, when nothing else can even find a way in. Isn’t that the point?

Thank you for reading!

Relentlessly yours,

Sewer Rat Nat

Here’s the deal: herniating is a huge risk in the first 2 years after getting a stoma. It’s always a risk, but specifically in the first two years. It takes your abdominal wall a good long while to figure out what the hell is going on, then be strong enough to not let anything through.

There are precautions to take, rules to follow, etc. I did all of those things, I FLOWED THE DAMN RULES, and then one day in mid-July I slipped at my grandma’s house. It’s been a long, painful, exhausting road since July 18th. I’ve had to fight with doctors and put up with insurance problems, etc for months. My hernia is too complex to be taken care of by a general surgeon in my area of Texas. Many colorectal surgeons don’t even DO the surgery I need. I need a specialist, who actually does the surgery, and in Network with my insurance. After weeks of back and forth and calls between me and what feels like every doctor on my team plus insurance plus every colorectal center between here and central Texas, I finally found who I needed. Three hours away. Then, for another week after that, I was still not able to schedule the surgery because my primary care physician doesn’t! Check! Their! Fax! Machine! (even after I specially said, on a video call, “hey this is sitting in your fax queue and I need it signed TODAY. I am in constant pain”). Finally, the lady who works at the place I’ll be going to heard my desperation and, probably tears, on the phone one day, took pity on my tired, worn down soul, and said, “I’ll handle it.” (God bless all of the people who step in and handle it). I’m not sure what she said to my PCP, but she called me back the next day and told me she had me scheduled. After 3.5 months of this thing growing and causing me pain and ruining what was slow but somewhat steady healing, I will finally see a specialist for a surgery consultation on the last Wednesday of October.

Now that I’ve already had major abdominal surgery, I know what the recovery process looks like. It’s not pretty and it’s not fun and it’s not easy. Did you know that you use your core for everything? It’s a pretty appropriately named area of the body. But, compared to where I’m at right now, I’m practically on my knees begging to be in that healing process. I’d rather that than this. At least I’d be getting better.

I was given my appointment date the second week of October. Which means I’ve been sitting in the waiting room of life for a week and a half and have a week and a half left to go. And truthfully, it’s messing with my head head quite a bit.

And it’s making it hard to write. I’m not in a place that I can take the ugly things and see at least a tiny speck of beauty in them and be like “look what I’ve learned.” That makes me want to throw up. I’m honestly thankful to be alive and I’m happy to know that I still have thoughts like, “Oh that’s a pretty butterfly.” Aside from that, the thoughts are stark, at best. Writing something goofy and humorous right now is even harder to do… and it would absolutely feel forced and disingenuous. I just can’t bring myself to do it

All of this to say, I’m not sure I’ll be writing any long and meandering thoughts for a while, I know I won’t until November at the earliest. Once my writing mojo comes back, y’all will be my first call 💖 until then, I’ll probably share weekly memes.

Oh also! I promise one day we will talk about Robert Irwin on Dancing with the Stars. I bawled like a baby during is dance for his mom last week. And my pumpkins. Y’all HAVE to hear about my pumpkins.

Some of my screenshots from last week for your viewing pleasure

It’s been a minute. I didn’t mean to not write last week. I was rather busy for the end of September, and I believe that really threw me off my schedule. Then my body rebelled and I hated everyone and everything last weekend. I was so anxious, I was basically choking on it. Which really frustrated me, because I have wanted to write today’s thoughts for a long time. I’m not sure I have written any words, at all, in a week. I don’t believe I’ve written anything in my notebook, on a computer, or even in my notes app. It’s been weird, and not a habit I would like to keep up.

In order to combat the anxiety, I got off of Instagram (I know, revolutionary tactic). I noticed that every time I was scrolling, the chaos in my mind was getting louder and louder. I’m sensitive right now, the ship has already taken on too much water, adding more just makes it sink faster. My mind felt like an electric bug zapper… every time anything hit I could practically hear the zzzzz and feel the sizzle that accompanied it. Things were not looking great. Getting off of any social media does add a wrinkle though: That’s a social connection point, and I just took it away from myself. Just for a quick recap: My whole life turned upside down and I moved back home after living out of state for about 10 years. So, while I have friends spanning from the East Coast to the West Coast, I don’t have many friends here with me. And honestly? I don’t have a ton of capacity for in person friends right now. It’s unfortunate, but it is what it is. I have about one spot on the roster for that and it’s been filled.

I am not built to be without community. I’m not sure any of us are, but I myself, am an extremely social person. I can be alone, and I enjoy alone time, but overall, I need social interaction.

(I need to take a break here to let you, dear reader, behind the curtain: Have you every been writing your weekly(ish) newsletter and then all of a sudden your brothers are in your house talking about Lord of the Rings cards (is that a thing?) and lobster rolls and you can no longer think in a straight line? No? We were never allowed to say shut up growing up, so you would think these grown ass men would be better at knowing how to read my mind when it’s time to shhhhhhh. Now I have to reread everything. I have no idea what I was talking about.)

Anyways, I won’t belabor the point; I need people and I also abandoned one of my sources of connection in favor of peace. Well, this leaves me in a tough spot. What is one to do when they need something, specifically from other people? I hate to say it, and we all know the answer, but I think we are supposed to ask for it. We are supposed to communicate what we need. We are supposed to tell our brothers that we need them to be quiet and just chill for 15 minutes to an hour. Because, unfortunately, other people can’t read our minds… no matter how well they know us.

This creates another problem for me. It’s really frustrating that all of the answers to my problems create new problems. I think it’s called growth, but I’m pretty tired of it. Asking for help or asking for what I need is not easy for me. The main fear in my life, the thing that made its way into my veins and infected my life before I ever recognized it was happening is the question, “Am I being too much?” Four words whose essence have been in everything I do and everything I’ve fought.

It was once harder to admit that to an audience. Or, I should say, I could easily admit it, but I could not come close to recognizing what that actually meant for me. The really true truth is that I don’t want to be alone. Isolation is my biggest fear. I just learned this about myself in the Summer of 2024. It’s almost like the thought, “Am I too much?” is the door to the room that isolation lives in. If I am too much, no one wants to be around me. That is the track that has silently played in my mind my whole life, collecting experiences that reaffirm it. It’s not hard to admit to an audience anymore, because of… well… the previously mentioned growth. Part of that growth is recognizing that everyone has their thing. One of my friends never wants to be in a situation in which they feel uncomfortable. While the function of many of my actions and choices is to not be isolated, their’s is to not be uncomfortable.

In Taylor Swift’s song Eldest Daughter (I am not saying that this is a great song or even that I like it), she says, “I have been afflicted by a terminal uniqueness. I’ve been dying just from trying to seem cool.” I feel like every single person could rewrite that line to easily reflect their experience.

I have been afflicted by a terminal _________________________. I’ve been dying just from trying to _________________________.

(I have been afflicted by a terminal fear of isolation. I’ve been dying just from trying to be loved. Yikes. Only do this exercise if you’re ready to see whatever it is for you in a staunchly bright light).

All of this to say, for a very long time, I had the sneaking suspicion that my friends didn’t like me as much as they seemed to. Wow, this seems sad, but I promise we are going somewhere! Keep riding this train! As I have spent a year and a half unraveling, I have had the joyous experience of facing things like this within myself. Apparently when your whole identity is shattered and you’re picking up the pieces of yourself and deciding what to put back in place, you also have to examine the pieces that aren’t so great. At one point last year, I was having a small meltdown about how now (that I can’t keep up appearances) everyone was going to see everything. Deep down to the core. And what if everyone finally sees it? The true me, the part that they won’t like.

My friend said to me, “Do you want the truth?” To which I’m pretty sure I said, “Well, not if it’s going to hurt my feelings.” Then she told me that she doesn’t think the core of me is any different than the rest of it. I was convinced there had to be something deep inside that was ugly and that no one wanted to be around, and she said, “I just think that’s not true.” Well. Okay. Then she went on to say, “I think it’s all Natalie flavored. If we already like it then we are going to like it. It’s just more you.” Well. Okay. In a simple sentence, in a short conversation, a part of me was freed. An ugly belief that had been embedded in me for who-know’s-how-long was dislodged.

My siblings and their children came to surprise me for my birthday a few weeks ago. My niece had her backpack with her because she had been picked up from school early to come. While telling us about her day, she said that the whole school did a sticky note activity that morning. They wrote encouraging things to other people on sticky notes and then went and put them on the classroom door of the class that the recipient was in. We asked her to read her sticky notes to us, and I’m so glad she did. One of her friends turned that 3x3 piece of paper into a masterpiece. She wrote a lot, but it’s the last line that made it into the hall of fame in my mind. It simply said, I love how you are.

I love how you are.

What an earnest sentiment. There’s a whole bucket of things I like about you, but at the end of the day, it comes down to this: I love how you are. You think you’re too much? I love how you are. You have anxiety? I love how you are. You’re weird? I love how you are.

Your friends are around you because they love how you are. They like that flavor. They signed up for this.

What a relief.

Love you, mean it,

Natalie

And here are some weekly screenshots, because I have to share them somewhere. It’s the law.

I missed you last week, and I mean that! I hope you’ve been doing okay. My siblings are surprised me for my birthday, and that was awesome. A symptom that I’ve had lately is bad bad very bad brain fog. The other day I walked into the kitchen to throw some paper plates away. I put them in the refrigerator. Also, this weekend I’m watching one of my nieces (the baby one). All that to say, I can’t write a whole lot this evening due to lack of time, energy, thoughts, erc. I have something that I REALLY want to talk to y’all about, but today is not the day!!! Maybe later this week? We’ll see what happens. What I CAN offer today is random screenshots I’ve taken in the past couple of weeks. Okay, talk soon? Bye!

Enjoy!

Just like Natalie, I too have been in chronic pain for over a year. I have been searching for answers since August 2024, and my pain has gotten progressively worse since then. I have become desensitized to pain, the loud noises of an MRI machine, how cold the x-ray tables can be, and the feeling of disappointment when leaving another doctor's office without answers.

On Friday I got the best news of my life. We have an answer. When the PA explained what’s wrong and the three step treatment plan he had created for me, I was in shock. It didn’t fully hit me that I was going to be better until he left the room, and it was just my Mom- who has been my biggest advocate throughout this all, thank you Momma- and I alone in a clinic room. I sobbed. Full-on body-wracking sobs. And as my Mom repeatedly prayed her prayers of gratitude and thanks, I felt hope for the first time in months. My mom has always said something akin to hope being the most powerful medicine, because hope is what keeps us going, and she is completely right. I felt alive again. I felt joyful. I felt capable, empowered, real, and one day closer to “normal”.

In two more months, I will be normal. I will feel cool again. I will walk to class just like everyone else on my college campus does. Until then, I will turn to my whimsy list.

The whimsy list is a collection of obtainable and easy-to-do things that make you feel alive, happy, spark some joy, and make you feel good about yourself and your situation. Some of them are easy to do at the moment, some take a little bit of planning. I created it because, as you may know, depression isn’t difficult to catch when you’re in chronic pain. Today, I will share a portion of my whimsy list.

1. Paint my nails, or get them done.

2. Listen to music I like, namely: Zach Bryan’s self-titled album, One Direction, Chappell Roan, and Limp Bizkit. Odd combination, I know. But it really does make me hype.

3. Get a snowcone. Creme ‘n’ Sugar has really good ones. I get the Spiderman one, it has tigers blood and blue coconut.

4. Photosynthesis time. Because I can’t walk for long, my walk outside time had to be modified. In this, you just sit outside in the sun.

5. Get the stuff to make your coffee everyday, just how you like it. A good cup of coffee does SO much for our comfort, peace, and normalcy. So gather everything you need, and make your perfect coffee every morning. And when you get bored of that, experiment with recipes.

6. Eat your comfort food regularly. I love chicken caesar salad wraps and fries. I also LOVE Diet Coke- but I’m supposed to be reducing my coke and tea intake while in recovery. So someone drink a Diet Coke and think of me.

I encourage you, whether or not you’re in a state of crisis or your body won’t stop hurting, make a whimsy list. Find your joys and make them more accessible. Curate your perfect day as often as you can, because it is far more up to you than you know. You can make your day good, and you can always find the good. Sometimes you just have to make it happen yourself.

My absolute perfect day will start with my perfect cup of coffee and a yummy breakfast. My boyfriend and I will leave early in the morning to go hike Petit Jean before it gets too hot. I’ll wear my hiking boots with laces I have to tie, a new pair of hiking socks, and I will carry a backpack. We will pack a picnic lunch, and eat by the waterfall. We will spend hours talking about whatever we want, and when we’re ready to leave we will stop by a farmer’s market. I will get fresh fruits and vegetables, and walk for as long as I would like around the market. We will get dinner with our families, and we will talk about our day in great detail. Until that day, I will find pieces of my perfect day everywhere. In the food that I eat, and making my coffee everyday. I will find it in the music that I listen to and the sunshine. And I implore you to do the same.

Find your perfect day, and make it accessible. Put those parts into your everyday life, because your perfect day is so much more your responsibility than you know.

Welcome to this week’s 30 for 30 list! I actually started this list YEARS ago. I’ve worked with a lot of kids working their way into adulthood that maybe didn’t always have guidance. Things would happen and I would think, “Who is going to teach them that if they are on vacation and they are able to do laundry, they should do it so all their clothes are clean when they get home?” So, I started making this list. Most of this I was taught from someone else, and I only mentioned two names in here to actually give credit where it was due… so just assume that everything I wrote was not my original thought and that my life is infinitely better thanks to the people in it who are also influenced by the people in their lives.

1. Vinegar and baking soda cleans everything.

2. Plan concert outfits around your shoes. You will be STANDING and WALKING for hours. Please put your own comfort and enjoyment of the event over how cute those boots are. I, myself, am a big sneaker person… so most of my concert/festival/event outfits are going to be planned around a pair of sneakers. Don’t ruin the last few hours of an event for yourself by creating a painful situation! Think ahead! Think about future you!

3. If you hate yourself, take a shower. If you hate everyone, eat a snack. If everyone hates you, take a nap.

4. All choices have consequences, but most choices aren’t permanent. This is not an excuse to do crime. I am not encouraging that in ANY. WAY. However, I spent a lot of time in my early to mid-twenties tearing myself apart over things like where I wanted to live, what master’s degree I wanted, what the next step in my career would be… yada yada yada. The truth is? I could have made all of those decisions and then changed my mind later. Here is a list of things you are signing yourself up for a lifetime subscription for: having a child, most drugs, getting an organ removed… but… what state you are going to spend your time in? You can make that decision multiple times in your life. Chill out. It’s going to be okay.

5. You don’t hate reading. You just haven’t found the right book. I really do think this is true. There are books that if I sat down and tried to read them I would be like, “I hate reading. It’s not for me.” Also, have you heard of audiobooks? Amazing. And while some people try to argue that listening to an audiobook isn’t reading… the science behind it actually is that, while the process of reading a book versus listening to a book and comprehending it is different, the end result is this: It’s the same amount of work that leads to the same place. It’s like choosing a route on a map, and your map app is giving you a driving route that’s 7hrs 4 mins and a different route that’s 7hrs 5 mins. You’re going to get where you’re going either way.

6. You are the only person who has your own back 100% of the time. My friend/mentor, Beverly, said this to me one time years and years ago when I was struggling with a decision. It has helped me make decisions ever since. There are people who WANT to have your back all the time, but… it’s not possible. You are the only person who is with you 100% of the time, in 100% of the situations you are in… therefore you are the only person who is even capable of having your own back all the time. Respect yourself, know YOUR boundaries, advocate for yourself. Learn when it’s time to say no and learn when it’s time to say oh hell no. Figure out how to ask for what you want. You will always be your own biggest advocate.

7. You can have time or you can have money. When making a decision that involves money, this is the question to ask yourself. Do I want to spend the time on doing this? Or do I want to spend the money and save myself the time? Which is the more important commodity in this decision?

8. You don’t have to tell everything you know. This is a Nancy Frederick classic. Granny says this all the time. Some things you can keep to yourself.

9. Take a break before the break takes you. Stop repeatedly wearing yourself out. It’s not good for you. It’s a bad habit. Stop it.

10. community = everything I have too much to say about this, but it’s important to have a community around you. I’ll have a post about it in the future. You weren’t made to be alone all the time.

11. Things that are not attached to your morality: your weight, your bank account, the cleanliness of your house, your health.

12. “Natalie, you are an adult. You cannot get in trouble.”

13. You don’t know what the future you is going through. Okay, as I said early, most decisions aren’t permanent… however, there are consequences for choices we make. Consequences can be good or bad or neutral… or frustrating. So, there are some times when you DO need to think about the future you. For example, not that I know anyone that this has happened to, but let’s say you are 25 and have expendable income because you have multiple roommates and so your bills are relatively cheap. Then you need to pay for something expensive… and you put it off for awhile… you think, “Whatever, I’ll just pay this later.” You have the money to pay it, you just don’t want to. It’s not a fun expense and why would you pay for something not fun when you are only 25 years old? Then when you are 29 they come back around and say, “Hey! You never paid this bill!!!” Well 25 year old you thought surely you would have a savings account, etc from the job you’ve been working at for years. And you did save! Then, you got sick when you were 28, and you quit your job, work part time, and you used that savings account in the process which is fine because that’s what savings accounts are for, but still… 25 year old you didn’t even conceive of quitting or paying medical bills on top of this random bill you let yourself forget about from years ago. So 29 year old you wants to go back and shake 25 year old you’s shoulders and say, “Just pay the damn bill!!! You’re basically rich right now!” All that to say, you gotta look out for future you too, you have no idea what they’re up to.

14. They’re allowed to __________ and you’re allowed to _________. I hate this one, probably because I hear it often from at least two sources that I love and respect and think are very wise. I don’t want to hear this from most people, only the people who already say it to me. If we aren’t talking on a weekly basis, probably don’t hit me with this. However, it is something I have learned to help shift my perspective. As a recovering people pleaser, this sentence frame really helps me out in moments where I start to worry and overthink other people’s reactions to my words or actions. Or when I’m frustrated or disappointed with someone’s actions. That doctor is allowed to do their job poorly and write you off, and you’re allowed to ask for someone else to be in charge of your medical care. You’re allowed to RSVP no and they’re allowed to have their feelings hurt.

15. https://www.thelazygeniuscollective.com/cylc learn this chicken recipe. Make some rice on the side. It’s easy, everyone loves it, it’s a homemade meal. Put foil on the pan so you barely have to clean up. Also, in general, a perfect dinner is rice + a protein + a roasted vegetable. Can’t go wrong.

16. You should not be around people who make you feel like shit.

17. Accept the lemonade. If you were to mow your elderly neighbor’s lawn and then they were like, “Would you like a glass of lemonade?” Say yes. People want to give and receive. This is what they can give, let them do that for you. It’s not selfish to create and nurture relationships, and all relationships go both ways.

18. You are smart enough to know the difference between laziness and rest. There is a different. Stop saying you’re being lazy when your body needs a freaking break. You know the difference — making yourself feel guilty for resting is a dangerous road, and you will be tired until the day you die.

19. Take someone with you to write stuff down at doctor’s appointments. They are going to be hitting you with stuff about your body, you’re going to have questions, they’re going to say words you don’t understand and they’ll act like you should. You are allowed to take whoever you want to the doctor with you, take your mom, take a friend, take your hair dresser. But if you are dealing with something, take someone with you to make notes — you will want them later when you are trying to remember what the heck was said and why you feel like you just absolutely blacked out.

20. Plan your own birthday. I think your birthday should be a big deal. Celebrate the fact that you are alive and have made it this far! That’s not super easy, not matter how much the cynics want you to think it is! If you make your own plans, you save yourself from hurt feelings and being let down on a day that is meant for celebration. Birthdays change a lot when your mindset becomes, “I am so glad I’m alive, I’m so glad you’re in my life, would you like to celebrate with me please?” I do want to guarantee that people DO care if you’re alive (I know I do!), but everyone isn’t particularly skilled in things such as remembering dates, sending texts, sending cards, planning parties, knowing you want a party etc.

21. You can change your mind! Reconsider things! Do it, I dare you. You don’t have to be stuck in the same mindset about something forever. Actually, I truly hope you aren’t!

22. There is discomfort/inconvenience in community. You will have to go out of your way sometimes. It’s worth it.

23. Take selfies when you’re feeling yourself. First of all, you’re cute, act like it. Secondly, when you are having a low moment you can look back and remind yourself who tf you are.

24. Clarity is kindness. Being clear about what you mean in any situation is the kindest thing you can do. Beating around the bush, avoiding saying the thing, intentionally or unintentionally leaving things open to misinterpretation leaves everyone involved in a weird headspace. Clarity in one big hard moment is much better than many many small moments of discomfort and hazy intentions. It gets easier the more you do it. It takes practice.

25. If you think something nice about someone, tell them. Don’t hold your compliments in! What is the point of that!? You don’t have to make up fake compliments about people. Actually, please don’t. However, if you think something nice about someone, what good is it doing to leave it inside you?

26. Things that increase dopamine: listening to music, looking at pictures of people you love (this probably includes pets).

27. If you run into an asshole in the morning, you ran into an asshole. If you run into assholes all day, you are the asshole. Check yourself! You are not always in the right. Sometimes you are being an asshole.

28. If they don’t live a life that you necessarily want to live, then you don’t have to take their advice. Even if it’s someone you really love! People can be living a life very different from the life you want to live… so their advice/opinion isn’t always for you! And that’s okay! You can take it in, examine it, be like “huh, I never thought of it like that,” and then put it back down. Take what you need, leave what you don’t.

29. Hydrate, for the love of God. Drink some water. You are a little plant. Don’t let yourself shrivel up and die.

30. Slow down. You’re doing fine. Life isn’t a race to complete everything you can in your twenties. There are so many more years.

Okay, love you, mean it!!!!

Natalie

Hi! This week we continue with the Thirty for Thirty series… this week’s theme is: Song Lyrics that Mean Something to Me

I figured before we dive into the lyrics, that I would give a little health update. I’m still not well! (Surprise!!!!) I currently have a parastomal hernia which is causing lots of pain… pretty much, well, always. The biggest issue CURRENTLY is that it’s messing with my sleep. There is just no way to be comfortable in my body right now, and so I spend hours every night trying to find a position to fall asleep in. Usually it’s around two in the morning when I get to sleep, and then I wake up between five and six to empty my Ostomy bag. So I get a solid three hours of sleep, then hope and pray I can fall asleep after I wake up and take care of things. The lack of sleep has caused even worse brain fog (which if you’ve talked to me lately you may think is not possible… and yet!!!) and some very heightened anxiety. I’ve cried a lot too, but that was bound to happen no matter how much I slept. There are some other issues too, but those will stay between me and the friends who I’ve talked to about them!

Now, on to the good stuff.

The theme of this week’s list was easy to pick. The hardest part of making it was that it was narrowed down to ONLY 30 song lyrics that mean something to me. This is a subject that I could easily write a dissertation on.

I love talking about song lyrics. The BEST person to have these conversations with is my brother, Luke. Yesterday was his birthday (HBD Lukey Pukey). Luke is one of the world’s best listeners when you are in the mood to get into the minutia of something. If I wanted to talk about one line from a song or a poem or a book and break it down to the letter, he would be all in. Last week Luke sat with me as we both did what I call a “blind ranking” of Taylor Swift’s new album. Blind ranking is when an artist releases the track list from an upcoming album and you put them in order from best to worst based on name only. We also had a long discussion about the amount of songs an album should have, and the appropriate percentage of singles that can be released before an album is out (3 is too many for a 12 song album!!!!). Luke also let me play him multiple Lorde songs that I thought it was very important for him to hear, and Conan Gray’s whole new album, Wishbone. After each song I would ask him how he felt. For most other people, this is a nightmare scenario…. but for Luke? He had his opinions on both the lyrics and the instrumentation ready to share. His biggest complaint about the exercise: that we weren’t listening to it on vinyl. I could literally say to Luke, “I like this song because one time I was sad but the sun was shining and I wanted strawberries and all we had were blackberries.” And he’d just get it. Luke could say to me, “We should watch this movie because there’s a 15 second scene where he gives her flours instead of flowers.” And we would watch it. Luke gets the specifically weird parts of me, and that’s why I’m lucky to be his sister. Luke also would describe the energy he brings to a party as, “Who are we hating today?” And that’s why people are lucky to have him as a friend. The world is better because he’s been here for 34 years. He’s the reason I know about Dalí and aliens and the difference between Hook’em Horns and rock on. He also shaped more of my taste in music than I think he realizes. I’d say he’s probably a top three contributor. Because of him, I cried real tears when I saw Green Day in concert and they played Basket Case.

Basket Case didn’t make the list below, but that’s mostly because I couldn’t pick just one line. I didn’t add any information after these lyrics. They were chosen because they mean something to me. It could be a memory or a broken heart or a feeling I connected with. Unlike last week when I stated that the list was not that deep, this week, it actually is that deep. The great thing about songs is that songwriters can write them about something, and they can mean something totally different to the listener. A breakup song can be about losing a friend, quitting a job, hating what your body has become, etc. A love song can be about a friend, about a feeling, a wish or hope or dream, loving that your body has kept you alive, etc. At least two of these have to do with being arrested, which, not to brag, I have never experienced. Some of these lyrics are very specifically linked to people and time. Some are more of a vague sense of being. All are important to me.

So here it is:

Song Lyrics That Mean Something to Me

1. “Slow down, you crazy child, you’re so ambitious for a juvenile.” Vienna, Billy Joel

2. “Hope you walk in the party, ‘cause I threw this party just for you.” - Party 4 u, Charli xcx

3. “I was born to fly but baby I would die to run.” - Vampire Diaries, mgk

4. “I need a prayer man, anything’s fine.” - Prayer Man, Hippo Campus

5. “Hi, everyone leave… please, I need a moment to myself.” - Hi, Everyone Leave Please, Fletcher

6. “I think we’d survive in the wild.” - Beige, Yoke Lore

7. “At every table, you’ll save me a seat.” - Lover, Taylor Swift

8. “Tell me, did the wind sweep you off your feet? Did you finally get the chance to dance along the light of day, and head back to the Milky Way?” - Drops of Jupiter, Train

9. “We run things, things don’t run we.” -We Can’t Stop, Miley Cyrus

10. “And I miss you, but I miss sparkling.” - Bejeweled, Taylor Swift

11. “Hey you with the pretty face, welcome to the human race.” - Mr. Blue Sky, Electronic Light Orchestra

12. “Oh no, we won’t go ‘cause don’t know when to quit.” - Save Rock and Roll, Fall Out Boy and Elton John

13. “If you get too close, and I’m not how you hoped, forgive my Northern attitude, oh I was raised on little light.” - Northern Attitude, Noah Kahan

14. “And you need to know I’m hella obsessed with your face.” -ILYSB, Lany

15. “You’ll find a man with no rock and roll band, and maybe you’ll like that.” Thinking ‘Bout Love, Wild Rivers

16. “When you’re ready, come and get it. Na na na na.” - Come and Get It, Selena Gomez

17. “Talkin’ bout last time I was in the back of a cop car I fell in love.” - Dial Drunk, Noah Kahan and Post Malone

18. “What if I told you I’m back? The hospital was a drag. Worst sleep that I ever had.” - The Alchemy, Taylor Swift

19. “So I gotta question… do you want to have a slumber party in my basement?” - Your Love is My Drug, Kesha

20. “And in the water, there’s the doctor who didn’t listen to my claim. What a shame, he’s circling the drain.” - The End, Halsey

21. “There’s magic in the air this evening, magic in the air.” - One More Sleep Til Christmas, The Muppets

22. “If I go to jail tonight, promise you’ll pay my bail. They trying to buy my pride, but that just ain’t up for sell.” - FourFiveSeconds, Rihanna, Kanye West, and Paul McCartney

23. “How do you measure the life of a woman or a man?” - Seasons of Love, Rent Cast

24. “Our families huddle closely, betting warmth against the cold.” - Snow, Sleeping at Last

25. “Women’s hearts are lethal weapons. Did you hold mine and feel threatened?” - History of Man, Maisie Peters

26. “I want to sell my house and set fire to all my clothes… and hire a priest to come and exorcise my demons. Even if I die screaming.” - The Black Dog, Taylor Swift

27. “Do or die, you’ll never make me. Because the world will never take my heart.” - Welcome to the Black Parade, My Chemical Romance

28. “Hope he took his bad deal and made a royal flush. Don’t know if I’ll see you again someday. But if you’re out there… I hope that you’re okay.” - Hope ur ok, Olivia Rodrigo

29. “I’ll be outside, I’ve been cooped up, blood shot eyes, need a ride, will you pick me up?” See Through, The Band Camino

30. “Please don’t be in love with someone else. Please don’t have somebody waiting on you.” - Enchanted, Taylor Swift

Of course I made you a playlist! Did you even have to ask?

That’s all for today. So long, farewell, to you my friends!

I have the honor to be your obedient servant,

N dot Fred

Hi!! Thank you to anyone who read through my travel diaries! I was in the mood to challenge myself to write (almost) everyday, and also remember things I spent time noticing.

I also have given myself a new challenge… a series for the month of September! September is my birthday month, therefore, I love it. September is also when fall starts, therefore, I love it even more. I recognize that it’s technically the last day of August, but I was excited to do this!

I’m turning 30 this year, and have decided that for every week of this month I will write a list of 30 things with a different theme. There is one week that will be a guest writer, and I don’t know what she will be writing about. I only give my guest writer’s one rule, everything else is up to them. The fun part of this series is, as I have been making these plans, I only have one list that I know I’m making… otherwise, this is a rather willy nilly project.

Some ideas that were thrown around for today’s list were:

• Celebrities that I like

• Taylor Swift Songs

• A song for every year

• The 30 hottest things people (men, in my case) have ever done

After slightly more than minimal consideration I decided that I am not going to write any of those lists, at least for now. However, I was able to easily get a solid 5 points on the last list. Anyways, the theme of this week’s list is…… (*drumroll please*)

Thirty Things I Think About Often

That’s right, y’all. If you ever find me staring off into space, you can turn to this list and you’ll probably know what I’m thinking about.

Let’s get it:

1. The middle of the forest. I don’t even necessarily know what this means. It is what it is. The forest in my mind is not a hot, humid forest. That feels important for me to say.

2. That time my little sister called the police from a payphone when we were on a family trip in Colorado then the police called back and my brother answered the phone. She was young. She wanted to know what happened if you dialed 911 without putting money in. My brother was not amused when he had to answer a random pay phone to talk to the police.

3. Lamination in pastries. I’ve been watching a lot of The Great British Baking Show this summer. Laminating pastry dough is the process a baker goes through in order to get the thin layers in a pastry. Think of the inside of a croissant. Are you thinking about it? Good. Now you’re thinking like me. Next time you bite into a croissant, take a second and look at those beautiful layers on the inside.

4. The Empyrean Series. So much respect to the author, Rebecca Yarros, but I would love for all of us to admit that we just call the whole series Fourth Wing. Anyways, in general, I probably am thinking about whatever book I have been reading recently. However, even when I’m not in the midst of a reread, I’m still thinking about Fourth Wing, Iron Flame, and Onyx Storm (or Quicksilver, which is not the same series or author, but a great book). I’m genuinely worried about what’s going to happen in the 4th book of the series. I normally don’t read unfinished series. Now, I remember why. There is a Taylor Swift song that Rebecca Yarros put on her writing playlist for the 3rd book that, anytime I hear it, I start spiraling about one of the characters and am like, “BUT HE’S GOING TO GET BETTER RIGHT?!” Remember a few weeks ago when both Chloe and I wrote about how I’ve never been chill about anything nor do I expect others to be chill about things? You definitely need to apply that here.

5. What color my tail would be if I were a mermaid. This is one of the main questions I ask people. It’s a go to, back pocket question. Not only is it important to think about things like this, I’m also genuinely curious about what everyone’s answer is. It’s all a big trick, though, because I actually don’t know what color my tail would be if I was a mermaid. I think about that a lot.

6. The mental math lesson I learned in college. In college, I took this class called Math for Educators, or something like that. We had to learn all the bases of different numeral systems and what was going on in Mesopotamian math classes. One week we learned a bunch of different mental math skills. Did you know that you can learn ways to do mental math? Until then, I was under the impression that if you were good at math (which I believed I wasn’t) that you were good at mental math. There was no learning process. It was either something you could do or something you couldn’t. I was wrong. We learned a whole bunch of different mental math strategies. I hated that class. A big part of that came from a lack of effort on my part, then the feelings that accompany not doing well. However, to this day, it is one of the most practical things I have ever learned. Need someone to tell you what to tip? I got you. Need someone to total up your Yahtzee score? I’m your girl.

7. Orion. You know him? The constellation? He was important to some friends and me in college, and now I think about him often. I find him every night the sky is clear in the winter.

8. Waterparks. Full stop. No notes.

9. Hades and Persephone. This is a newer one, but I think about them everyday.

10. Phil Dunphy. What a guy. He’s hard not to think about.

11. My birthday being on the cusp of basically everything: summer and fall, virgo and libra (unsure I care), millennial and gen-z.

12. The scene in an episode of Schitt’s Creek where Alexis and David say, “A hellmmett?!” There’s a scene early on in Schitt’s Creek where Alexis’ boyfriend gives her a bike then gives her a helmet. Both David and Alexis respond by saying, “A heeelmmmmetttt!” in the exact same, weird way. I cannot, for the life of me, figure out why. Not a day of my life goes by when I don’t think about it.

13. A Very Potter Musical. The younger 2/3rds of the Frederick crew were obsessed with VPM when we were all in our formative years. If you haven’t seen it, it’s a musical parody of Harry Potter. It’ll live in my brain rent free forever.

14. Nick Miller saying, “I’ve peed in every pool I’ve ever been in.” There are a lot of Nick Miller (from New Girl) quotes that I love. If I had to only choose one to remember for the rest of my life, this would be it.

15. Percy Jackson. I’m convinced Rick Riordan formed at least 25% of my personality. I think about the Percy Jackson books often.

16. Music Video Concepts. I love thinking through what a good music video for any given song would be.

17. “Say it, out loud.” - Edward Culle

    

18. Whiteboards. The world is better when we all write on whiteboards. Everyone needs a whiteboard and a good Expo marker.

19. My next drink. Not of the alcoholic variety. I don’t drink alcohol, not due to any moral reason, but due to the fact that my body has been falling apart for over a year and I cannot handle it. I took a SIP of a margarita recently and was pretty much throwed. However, at any given time, I am thinking about what I’m going to drink next: Iced coffee, lemonade, coconut water, V8, more water. It’s a small thing to get excited about, but that’s what makes life so thrilling.

20. Tattoos. If you look at my Pinterest search history you can track every tattoo that I’ve thought about getting in the past year, probably.

21. How the most endearing trait in books for male characters is when they eat chocolate cake. This is a big one. In The Outsiders by SE Hinton, there’s a random chapter (chapter 7) about the boys’ life at home. It’s my favorite chapter of the book (which I have read at least 24 times, because I used to teach it). In this chapter Ponyboy reveals that there is always chocolate cake in their fridge, and that they eat it for breakfast. The idea that these 3 greasers, these boys who lost both of their parents and live on the wrong side of town and are being raised by their 20 year old brother, eat chocolate cake for breakfast… it’s just so innocent. You know who else loves chocolate cake? Xaden Riorson. That’s right, we are back to Fourth Wing, y’all. Leader of a rebellion? Terrifyingly powerful? Ruthless as hell? Favorite food? Chocolate cake. That’s adorable. I love it.

22. My dreams, like the kind I have when I’m asleep. I have some crazy dreams. Very vivid. I think it’s important to pay attention to what is happening in our dreams, especially if there’s a regular theme.

23. Funny things that could be written on a cookie cake. One of my favorite things to give people is a cookie cake that will make them laugh.

24. Symbolism. Anything’s a symbol if you want it to be. It’s also cool to connect with symbolism that’s been used in history, etc.

25. “The freight must be proportioned to the groove.” This is a line from a poem by Emily Dickinson. I first read it in the book Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow. It’s one of those things that I heard that got hung on the coat rack of my mind and now it’s there forever.

26. Birds. If I hear a bird call that I don’t know, I’m immediately pulling out my Merlin Bird ID app. The birds and the symbolism often go together.

27. Water. I just spent the past week drooling over water. If you need to know about it, read my vacation diaries.

28. School of Rock. LET’S ROCK. LET’S ROCK. TODAY.

    

29. Songs. I’ve been asked before if I think in song. I’m not sure the actual answer to that, but it’s not no.

30. TShirts/ Sweatshirts If you have a crisis, chronic illness, cause you care about, etc and have talked to me about it, you can almost GUARANTEE that I have looked up Etsy t-shirts about it.

Well, folks. It was frighteningly easy to think of 30 things that I think about all the time. I’ll see you next week for our next list. Happy September to all who celebrate!

Yours truly,

Natalie

P.S. If you want to share things you think about all the time… I’m more than interested.

That Love is All There Is by Emily Dickinson

That Love is all there is,

Is all we know of Love;

It is enough, the freight should be

Proportioned to the groove.

Welcome to the last entry of a work week worth of travel diary posts! I’m cheating a little bit - I am combining Thursday and Friday because I took a nap during the time that I would have normally written and threw off my groove. But who cares, I make the rules here.

Last Thursday will be a day that shines in my memory for quite awhile. Could be forever. Hopefully it is, but either way I’m writing about it so I can come back to it.

During our final year of college, when I was student teaching and Bethany was probably continuing to learn Ancient Greek, we accidentally started a tradition. It was born rather naturally, we both happened to be the free-est on Thursday evenings. We both liked sitting in the local coffee shop (shout out to Midnight Oil). So we ended up meeting every Thursday evening, and sometimes other friends would join. Or they would pop in and sit for awhile and leave. Once, our friend Dannis, showed up and said something along the lines of, “I figured you two would be here having your lil’ bitch retreat.” Bethany and I found it hilarious, so that’s what we started calling it. It’s even funnier because we went to a Christian college and, in general, you didn’t hear people using cuss words aloud very often. By the time we were one foot out the door we realized that we didn’t care. I’m sure the amount of f-words I have used on this Substack has startled a person or two. It’s going to be okay.

I digress.

Bitch Retreat is one of my favorite memories from the latter years of college. I think of it with nothing but fond memories, and now when Bethany and I get together, we tend to call it that. Last Thursday, I asked Bethany if we could do some writing on the deck in the sun. We invited Katherine and decided to have a Bitch (writer’s) Retreat. Having friends who are nerdy and intense about the same things you are is amazing. Having friends that are nerdy and intense about things you don’t know anything about - also amazing.

We did two different poetry exercises, one from the book Finger Exercises for Poets and one we wrote a pantoume. A pantoume is a poem that follows this outline:

Stanza One:

Line 1

Line 2

Line 3

Line 4

Stanza Two:

Repeat Line 2

Line 6 (New)

Repeat Line 4

Line 8 (New)

Stanza Three:

Repeat Line 6

Repeat Line 3

Repeat Line 8

Repeat Line 1

It was not the world’s easiest challenge — which was the point. I told Bethany that it was like poetry math. She came to the realization that line 8 is truly your key line in the whole poem. Line 8 needs to be a banger.

I also spent the whole day on Thursday with the song “Vodka Cranberry” by Conan Gray stuck in my head. I would sing the line, “Looked at your picture and cried like a baby” and then realize I was singing out loud and stop. So what happened from there was that Bethany, who does not know this song at all, got that ONE line stuck in her head. She couldn’t sing the rest of the song if she tried.

That evening we went and watched the sunset. We missed the part where sun dips down, but it’s really the afterward where all the pretty colors are anyways.

On Friday, we took a little trip around Shelter Island. I always buy a new shirt, so we just had to go to some shops. We went to a new outpost of a local coffee shop and the whole outdoor area was gorgeous. There was so much greenery and the flowers just popped. It felt like a secret garden, except it is at a public place of business. There was a rocking chair on the front porch I really wanted to try out, and while I liked the seat part, the actual rocking left something to be desired. Bummer, though the gardens quickly made up for it. I got an iced mocha, because that’s what I have been into this summer, or as my big sister calls it, my grown up chocolate milk.

We drank our coffees and drove around, I got a new shirt and a new sweatshirt, because I am who I am and sweatshirts are my love language. Later that afternoon we watercolored. It was tons of fun. I don’t find myself creating much art in a visual sense very often. My older sister is a SKILLED artist and our grandpa was too. I’ve always left those things up to them… give me words or give me death. However, this was a low pressure situation. It was, let me say this clearly, just for fun. We were creating just for the sake of creating. I think we should all be doing that sometimes.

That evening, we ate no bake cookies and watched Superman. It was very good, but I do have important questions about Clark Kent's hair. When he’s just being Clark, his hair is beautiful and curly. When he’s Superman, it’s mostly slicked back. From a “he needs a disguise” perspective, it makes sense… but the logistics don’t. At what point when it’s time to save the world does he have time to do his hair? Does he carry hair gel with him? A comb or a brush? It has to take time to go from beautiful, riotous curls to mostly pushed back with one perfect ringlet falling on his forehead. I just think that if people are in danger, you don’t have time to fix your hair that much.

I also love his dog, Krypto, because he reminds me of my dog, Disco. By that I mean he’s an incredibly lovable menace, and you would think that the person who owns him would have trained him better. Oh well, just call me Superman.

Overall, it was a lovely week. I’ve been using this week trying to notice more. Just, in the words of Bethany, fucking paying attention. I hope you’re doing the same thing.

Here’s the pantoume I wrote (and if you decide to through a little razzle dazzle in your day and write one, send it to me! I want to read it!)

Every Inhale a Praise. Every Exhale a Confession.

I breathe in, I breathe out.

Don’t think for a second I’ve forgotten this gift.

My life, my life.

Uncomfortable and exhilarating.

Don’t think for a second I’ve forgotten this gift.

My heart, my heart.

Uncomfortable and exhilarating.

Uncontrollably, provocatively, irrevocably mine.

My heart, my heart.

My life, my life.

Uncontrollable, provocatively, irrevocably mine.

I breathe in, I breathe out.

That’s it for the travel diaries! Thanks for taking time out of your day(s) to follow along! We will be back to regularly scheduled programming starting on Sunday, and you’ll only see me in your inbox once a week!

Okay bye I love you forever,

Natalie

Wednesday was a planned rest day, because we weren’t sure how my body would react to swimming the day before. We spent the day chilling and chatting.

While talking to her mother, Bethany described this beautiful moment in the water the day before. I had gotten out of the water already, and Moriah and John were further out than Bethany wanted to go. So she just stood in the water, up to her shoulders, and swayed from foot to foot like a piece of seaweed. It was a cloudy day and the water was chilly, but as Bethany stood there alone, swaying, the sun broke through the clouds and a beam of light hit her and warmed her up just perfectly. The moment was so perfect it lead to Bethany asking, “Why do we do anything but stand in the ocean?”

It was a rainy afternoon, so we spent it watching the movie Past Lives. It is a great movie, I didn’t cry, but Bethany did… she always does at a certain scene in it apparently. It’s one of her favorite movies and she’s been telling me to watch it for sometime. So the whole time I was watching it with her, I was clenched up, hugging a pillow basically asking, “I’m going to get my heart broken aren’t I?” The answer to that is both yes and no.

I did cry a few minutes after the movie, reading some poems that Bethany wrote. Poems I had already read multiple times. I can’t share any here right now, but just know… they are definitely tear worthy.

Anyway, I hope you find whatever your equivalent of standing in the ocean is today. Why would you do anything but that?

Yours truly,

Natalie

I don’t think I have really explained this, mostly because I didn’t feel like it, but today I am in the mood to share. A sign/symptom of Ulcerative Colitis is blood in your stool. Last August, a little less than a week after my tremors started, I went to the bathroom and saw red (gross. I, to this day, hate talking about poop). Growing up, whenever we were sick, my mom wouldn’t let us have red Gatorade. She told us if we saw any red in our throw up or otherwise that she needed to know immediately. So, obviously, I immediately knew something was wrong.

For awhile, it was assumed that the bleeding was caused by the new medicine I had been put on for the tremors (I went from one daily medicine to A LOT of daily medicine in a very short amount of time). I went to a follow up appointment with my PCP in September at some point and mentioned the blood, that had continued for three weeks or so at that point. She was immediately way more concerned than I thought she would be, and I was referred to GI (gastrointestinal doctor). So there I was, shaky and bleeding. As time went on, the blood loss symptoms got worse and worse. Dizziness, fatigue, nausea, migraines, weakness, pain, etc. My first trip to the ER was because I was out walking my dog and I just felt so bad I remember thinking, “I could just lay down in the grass right here. I think it would be okay.” My first trip to the ER is also when I was told I was slowly bleeding out, and that the blood loss would kill me if it wasn’t cured. Since it was slow enough, the ER doctor said we had time to figure it out. It then accelerated at an unprecedented rate. All this to say, within the last year I lost A LOT of blood. I don’t know how to describe the feeling of not having enough blood in your body, except that it just doesn’t feel right. All you know in those moments is that you’re not okay, even if you don’t know why.

I had six blood transfusions — shout out to all blood donors! And shout out to my sister in law, who even though she was pregnant/postpartum asked MANY times if she needed to come give me blood (she’s a universal donor, which is a cool flex). Then, obviously, I became anemic. I’ve had 3 rounds of iron infusions since then, and get the joy of talking to a doctor on the phone about my blood every 3 months. Last week was my quarterly phone call, and according to my blood tests… my blood cells are puny. DANG IT. I was given a list of vitamins to take, and will have another set of tests in three months.

I didn’t realize when I saw that blood in the toilet in August 2024 that I would have an appointment on my calendar for it in October 2025. Life really is a wild ride. Some days, everything changes. Some days, nothing changes at all. Crazy.

The next note in my phone just says, “sardines.” I have no idea what that means, and if any of the Moores remember what was happening when I wrote that down, feel free to comment and let the people know! I can only imagine week-ago-Natalie was like, “Oh, I’ll remember what this means. I’ll just need a little note.” I have TERRIBLE news for week-ago-Natalie. Whatever the rest of that thought was is lost to time and space. I’m sure it was revolutionary.

Lastly, we GOT IN THE WATER on Tuesday! The reason I don’t have a ton of notes in my phone from last Tuesday is that if you were to take a picture of my thoughts at any given point during the day, you would have mostly just seen the ocean. It took up more than 60% of my mental space for the whole day. I was so excited. I’ve only swam in my parent’s pool since surgery, and this was my first foray with open water. How amazing that it was at Wade’s beach. That’s full circle, or something like it.

As we were walking up to the water John Moore said, “My only advice is, don’t drown if you want to live.” I thought this was excellent advice.

Getting in moving water while fighting a dizzy spell was an interesting task, but once I was in there I was so happy. I didn’t stay in as long as everyone else, because my abs started to ache and we knew I needed whatever strength I had left in them to do things like… walk around and sit up. When I got out I got to read on the beach while my friends kept swimming. That was great too. Do I wish I could have stayed in the water longer and swam more than once last week? Sure. I’m also grateful to get to be in the water at all. Everything I do in life is new right now. My body is different than it used to be. I spent almost 29 years functioning one way, and now I function differently. Every opportunity to do something old-new is daunting, and I’m always glad when I get through it. Most the time I stumble through it and take breaks and it isn’t the most graceful thing I’ve ever done. There are usually notes I take on how things can be better the next go around. I’m learning, though.

Yes, I am wearing sneakers on the beach! You try walking on sand with newly reconstructed abs!

That’s all for now, folks! I’ll see you tomorrow!

Love always,

Natalie

Here’s an unedited and sad poem that I wrote on March 1st in the hospital about my blood loss:

My Body Isn’t Making Enough Blood

Do you know how tragic it is

To be told

That your heart—

Which has always been know to work extra hard —

All of a sudden

Is coming up short?

Last Monday I saw a tweet, or whatever it is now (I saw it on instagram, that’s the only place I get close to keeping up with internet trends) that said “Summer Propaganda I’m falling for” and the very first thing listed was “swim, even if my hair gets messy.” And I was absolutely stumped. EVEN IF my hair gets messy? I hope it does. Swimming is an act of surrender, of quite literally going with the flow. Messy hair is PART OF IT. And this is coming from someone that has infamously hard hair to detangle. The perfect day to me ends with a little sunburn and some messy, wet hair. When I was young we’d go to the city pool and swim for hours. We’d open our eyes under water and just let the sting of the chlorine take us with it. When we got home, my sisters, my cousin and I would SWEAR that if you heated up a green apple in the microwave for 20-30seconds and ate it that it would fix any eye pain or redness. Since we had obviously found the solution, we didn’t mind the discomfort of the problem. Actually, we welcomed it. And we were free. You don’t have to dunk your head in the water, I don’t know your hair situation. But you should do something where you get a little messy and are a little free. You’ll be okay, it’s good for you.

Speaking of water, I was able to do another of my favorite things last Monday… showering outside. That’s right, I love it. I love being naked outside (I can practically hear both of my parents wondering how they raised a kid that willingly and openly shares that with the internet). Let’s get the situation straight; I’m outside, yes, however there are walls on the shower. The only way someone would see me is if they purposefully tried to, and I’d have a lot of problems in that scenario either way. As I mentioned yesterday, Shelter Island is beautiful in the summer. Showering outside, in the fresh air, with the sun shining just feels so good. Too good to pass up. I can wash my hair and watch seagulls fly by. I can stare at the trees while I’m in the water. It’s a perfect situation, and yet another moment that feels so free. It’s not lost on me that the activities that make my heart feel calmer are also the things I associate with freedom, especially freedom in my body. My body and I had issues way before my body actually had issues (growing up fat in the 2000s will do that to you, hell being a young girl in the 2000s will do that to you, but we can save that for another day). It’s also not lost on me that I’ve spent the last year of my life looking my control issues dead in the eyes. Do I think the freedom and the control issues correlate? Well, I’m talking about it, aren’t I?

The Moore family spent last week introducing me to The Great Pottery Showdown. It’s like The Great British Baking Show but with pottery. When Moriah was telling me about it, she said that the best part is that Keith, one of the judges, cries often, just because he’s moved by what the potters have created. Monday evening while we were watching, Keith cried over a lamp that one of the potters made. He thought it was beautiful and well done, so he choked up. I'm not sure anyone reading this grew up in a time where it was “normal” for men to cry, or show any “soft” emotion, but boy do I love when it happens. You’re moved enough by a lamp to cry about it? Have at it. You find beauty in simple things? Let it out, brother. Please. None of our gravestones are going to read, “held in all their tears” and there’s no trophy for “not showing emotion when moved.” I’ve spent a year or so ripping down the walls I built up around my feelings and I’m slowly coming to the realization that I don’t understand the point if I’m not letting myself feel. If we all move through life without feelings, we are just robots. I think that maybe, just maybe, the point of life is to feel it.

While we were watching the pottery show, someone said something that both Bethany and I thought was dumb or oddly sexual or just overall wacky. We immediately looked at each other. You know that moment? When something happens in a room and you immediately look to someone. There’s not even really any thought behind it. It’s not an in the moment decision, but a reflex built from years and years and many many moments of you and someone else understanding each other. What an honor to be the person in the room someone looks at when they hear someone say something dumb. That’s special.

Along with knowing when someone says something that’s worth some side eye, Bethany also has a habit of saying things out of nowhere that make me yell, “WAIT STOP TALKING I NEED TO WRITE THAT DOWN.” Last Monday was no different. Earlier that day Bethany said, “Most of my desire is just to Mary Oliver the hell out of it. And she was mostly just like, ‘You have to fuckin’ pay attention.’” Gah. Isn’t that what we should all try to do? Pay attention to the seagulls. Pay attention to the way the sun hits the trees. Pay attention to the way you naturally look to certain people in a room. Pay attention to what other people are creating. Pay attention to what makes you feel free. Pay attention to what brings you to tears. That’s the whole point.

I’ll talk to you tomorrow!

Love you mean it,
Natalie

Here’s some Mary Oliver to get you through the day:

The Summer Day

Who made the world?
Who made the swan, and the black bear?
Who made the grasshopper?
This grasshopper, I mean —
the one who has flung herself out of the grass,
the one who is eating sugar out of my hand,
who is moving her jaws back and forth instead of up and down —
who is gazing around with her enormous and complicated eyes.
Now she lifts her pale forearms and thoroughly washes her face.
Now she snaps her wings open, and floats away.
I don't know exactly what a prayer is.
I do know how to pay attention, how to fall down
into the grass, how to kneel down in the grass,
how to be idle and blessed, how to stroll through the fields,
which is what I have been doing all day.
Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn't everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?

Heyyyy! Long time no see. I mean it when I say that I missed you. Last week’s post was written by my dear, precious Chloe. I looked for a meme to really sum up what she said but I could not find one that said, “I have never been casual about anything in my life ever.”

I know, I know, you want a list of who I would kiss on the mouth. A dangerous thing to ask of me, because if I put some real thought into it, that list could go on forever.

Here’s a short list of people I could kiss on the mouth:

• The person who invented no bake cookies

• Andy Samberg’s sense of humor

• My friends when they laugh so much they start giggling

• The way I feel when I listen to the songs on this playlist I made just for you!!!

Anyway, my last post was a downer. I know that, and that is very reflective of my life… AND so is this post. Though it may seem like it’s in the complete opposite direction of the last one. As the internet and the important movie Inside Out taught us (and I am sure many more wise people before that), we can hold both.

There’s a popular quote circulating the internet or at least the sections of the internet I run around that says, “Micro joys are how we survive macro grief.” (As far as I can tell this quote is from Glo Antanbo, but also, it’s kind of hard to track down the origin). It basically comes to this… the great news is that I get to feel it all. The horrific news is that I get to feel it all. What a brutal, lovely gift.

When I was in the hospital I would tell myself, “Just get through this and you can go to Wade’s Beach.” If I needed to “escape” in my mind or meditate (that makes it sound more intentional than it was), or just get through the next test, the next needle, the next round of nausea or anxiety or middle of the night insomnia, I’d tell myself, “One day you’ll be on Wade’s beach again. Just get through this.”

Wade’s Beach is on Shelter Island, New York. One of my best friends is also on Shelter Island, New York. Last summer I went to visit Bethany, and her family (Moriah, Dad John, and Mom Katherine… there’s also Cana, the older sister, but she has unfortunately not been there every time that I am). We had a lovely time. In my mind, Shelter Island is idyllic. There’s a slow way of life I get to live when I’m there. Partly because of the island culture I’m exposed to, and partly due to the Moore family culture. The weather is beautiful, and coming from Texas this year, I could have almost cried in relief when I felt the cool breeze. Of course, there is also the ocean. I don’t even really know what this means… but if I could just BE water, I would. I love water, always have. Actually, when I got my Ostomy, one of the first questions I asked was if I would still be able to swim (answer: yes!!!!).

This year, we weren’t so sure that I would be able to make my way back up to the island, due to obvious health concerns. As the summer went on I decided that it was worth it — not only to take on air travel in my reconstructed body for the first time, but to actually put something on the calendar that was more than a few days away. That, in itself, might have been the more frightening task… get my hopes up? In this economy? But I did. Because I can’t not. And because I think it’s important to have something to look forward to. And because we don’t survive if we don’t cling on to hope with every ounce of strength we have. And because I told myself if I could just get through it, whatever it was, I could cry on Wade’s beach.

I kept a journal of sorts (random sentence fragments in my notes app) throughout the week to share with you. As August draws to an end, I will spend the week sharing my diary entries from vacation. That’s right y’all, a whole week full of newsletters. Let’s get to it.

SUNDAY

Sunday, for the most part, was a day of rest. This vacation, for the most part, was a week of rest. Bethany and the whole Moore squad are experts in telling me to and setting the example in rest, and sometimes just existing, in a culture that is truly rooted in our ability to produce/hustle/grind. The rules of vacation on Shelter Island are always the same: If I need something, ask for it. I wish I could say that rule was an easy one for me to follow. It’s not.

Rest is a lot easier for me when I have a friend who just wants to sit and talk to me. Great news? That’s mine and Bethany’s whole vibe. Years and years of friendship have been built upon just sitting around and talking with each other. We both consider that tons of fun.

While we were sitting, we were talking about how life can be hard and Bethany said, “I do think, regrettably, one of the beautiful things about life is like… the experiencing of it.” I’m just going to let that sit with you.

On Sunday evening, we did it, we made it to Wade’s beach. We went to celebrate Katherine’s birthday. Bethany made us all sandwiches, and Moriah made us an applesauce cake with peanut butter frosting. It was delicious, and I wish I had some in my hand right now. The water was too choppy for me to get in (the whole “having a weak core” thing doesn’t lend itself well to functioning well in choppy water). Most of us sat on the beach, eating our sandwiches and watching the sunset. The whole time, all I could think was, “I made it. I did it. I’m on Wade’s beach.” What a relief. I’m alive and I can sit on a beach. What a relief. I can watch a sunset and discuss what the sunset would taste like with my friends. What a relief.

When I was getting ready for bed that night the thought flashed through my head, “I’m excited to wake up and do this again.” I stopped in my tracks. I’m excited to WHAT? Wake up and DO THIS AGAIN? I haven’t had a thought like that in over a year. The passing thought felt like a glimmer in the sky. I’m glad I was looking up long enough to see it. I’m excited to wake up and do this again. What a relief.

Talk to you tomorrow!

Yours truly,

Natalie

“Oh, I wish I could spend all day underwater instead of this place.” - Percy Jackson

Chloe (aka Shlo) here. I’m just going to assume that everyone reading this knows Natalie well enough to know who I am, so I will spare you a proper introduction. But if you stumble upon this from the Substack algorithm, just know that I’m one of Nat’s best friend’s, former roommate of three years, and alleged lover (although we have disputed these accusations numerous times).

Nat asked me to write a guest post on her blog for this week since she’s going on vacation. I have not done a creative writing piece since high school English, so please bear with me.

We love a good notes app note. We have several from our ~7 years of friendship that have some of the most absurd titles. One of my favorites is the inspiration for this post, titled: I could kiss them on the mouth. Some other honorable mentions that have to do with Natalie (no context allowed) include “Dating app reviews,” “Fortitude house quotes,” and “Smokey mountains.”

“I could kiss them on the mouth,” I said after drinking some chocolate milk from Natalie’s fridge in her apartment. I was referring to whoever invented chocolate milk. Did I look up who invented it? No. I still don’t know. But I stand by that statement. We were getting ready to go out to the pool for some “Chubby Girl Swim Time” as we like to call it. Criteria is pretty self-explanatory. It was either that same day or soon after that we were in the pool where I was sitting in my hammock floaty when I said the same thing about that particular type of floaty. It’s a genius invention—you get to be in the water while you tan instead of getting overheated on the lounge chair. Thus the note in the notes app was created.

*There’s a 95% chance that Natalie was sitting under the pool umbrella with a towel wrapped around her when this happened.

I could add so many more things to this note. Immediately coming to mind would be the face realty acne solutions skincare line, the song Folded by Kehlani, Mildred’s breakfast sandwiches, and cool morning breezes. It’s one of those notes you make and then forget to add to, but I still come back to it as my favorite note in my notes app.

When I think of this note, it reflects the idea of feeling so strongly about something, you almost feel like you can’t contain it. I’m a very passionate person. So is Natalie. I think that’s one of the biggest reasons our friendship works so well. We understand that part of each other. I can say that I could kiss nerds gummy clusters on the mouth because they are THAT good and she wouldn’t bat an eye. She doesn’t make me dim that part of myself or make me feel stupid for it and I think that’s one of her best qualities. Growing up I didn’t feel like I had permission from myself or others to feel deeply. Natalie holds space for me to give myself permission to do just that. Ok, so maybe this is turning into a love letter to Natalie. Maybe I will add her to the list.

All of this to say, don’t be afraid to feel things deeply. Don’t apologize for being passionate about something, even if it’s something that feels silly. Try to not let people make you feel like you are “too much” and have to dim your light or squash your emotions or tone down your passions. And please find yourself at least one person like Natalie to have in your life.

Thanks for reading! Hopefully I understood the assignment. Type down below what you feel very passionately about.

Love always,

Chloe 💌

I’m at an impasse of my own creating. I promised myself when I started this newsletter that I would post once a week. I try very hard to not break promises, in general, but I never break a promise to myself. To be clear, setting a goal and not meeting it is not the same as breaking a promise to myself. A promise to myself usually has a tie to something emotional, or I recognize in a clear head that it’s going to be very important when I’m not in a clear head. I can’t break a promise to myself… the girl I’m with 24/7? The person I have no escape from? Yeah, no… I’m not betraying her trust. So, I found a loophole to my own rule. I was going to post all the screenshots and memes I’ve sent other people this week. I thought that would be fun, at worst it’s dark humor, at best, it’s inspiring. Or something like it. I feel like getting a newsletter full of memes and screenshots is like getting a letter full of confetti! How fun! Surely, it will make you smile. Well, while creating it, I had about three million (or 4) technical issues. It was insanely frustrating that I COULDN’T DO IT THE EASY WAY. It was also frustrating to recognize that the easy way kind of negates the point. I’d be honoring my promise in deed but not in spirit. And that’s a bunch of bull crap too.

I cried writing last week’s post. The most truthful I can be is this: I usually don’t share things until I am pretty well through them. The amount of vulnerability it takes to show you a wound that is still bleeding is nauseating to me. Why on earth would I want to show you where it still hurts? Why would I want to expose my pain knowing damn well that you could just poke and prod at it out of curiosity or disbelief, or something else? And on top of that… I usually make people laugh and smile. Writing a whole post that is mostly just a bummer (if you don’t deal with chronic illness) without a “here’s a super happy funny” chaser… gah. Not easy doesn’t come close to describing that decision. I almost posted a mid week post that was like, “Hey y’all wanna hear something funny my dog did?” Then I was like, "Girl, what?” I had to resist the impulse to make my life, and myself more palatable to the people who were reading. I really wanted to. I really want to. Anyways, back to me sharing things once I am through them… the thing about the word “chronic” is that it means on going. There is no “through.” At least not forever. I can’t be through with my body. If I were, then well, it wouldn’t matter if I knew what I was going to write about that week. I had to turn to turn to my friend for help when I sat down to write earlier.

Here’s the text conversation between me and my best friend since childhood:

Me: I have no idea what to write about on this week’s newsletter. My head has been kinda fucked.

Friend: Write about how your head has been fucked.

Well. I guess I could do that. We all know I’m depressed, right? I’m assuming that’s come through in all of the… everything… that I’ve written. I technically have C-PTSD from just my life in general over the last year or so. I wasn’t sure if I ever wanted to share that on the internet… does everyone need to know everything about me? No. However, I care so much about people’s mental health. And if I can share one thing to help ANYONE who stumbles upon this Substack or gets it sent to their email or whatever, then I will share it. My life isn’t just for me. If that is you, I see you. Not all wounds are visible, I see you, baby. I see you. I see you. I see you.

Sometimes everything is fine, then all of the sudden I am spiraling out of control in my mind. It’s been a great day then I am laying in bed near tears wondering when my life will realign. If it ever will. I was hit with the realization this week (okay… my therapist said it to me) that in my mind I was working toward some version of my life from before… before all of it. It turns out, that version of my life will never be my reality again. I don’t get to come out of this unchanged. It’s not even an option.

Have y’all ever read the poem “Welcome to Holland” by Emily Perl Kingsley? It’s a poem about what it is like to be the parent to a child with disabilities. How when people asked her what it was like, she would tell them that it was like spending your life planning a trip to Italy, and when the plane lands the captain announces, “Welcome to Holland.” It’s not a bad place, Holland is, in fact beautiful, it’s just different. It’s not the trip you planned. It’s a different place, “So you must go out and buy new guide books. And you must learn a whole new language. And you will meet a whole new group of people you would never have met.”

My life has become a trip to Holland. And it’s shocking. It’s different. It’s not what I had planned. I can’t pin point exactly why my head is a mess this week… but I would bet my favorite water bottle plus a million dollars that it has something to do with the fact that this is not where I thought I would be at all. Can I tell you what this month holds for me? At least 5 doctors appointments, 4 with specialists. The anniversary of when my life turned upside down. And not going back to school. Because I quit the job that I once had so much love for. And by the time I left, I didn’t. I’m just a little lost. I don’t know myself completely right now. I didn’t expect these unexpected changes. I expected to land in Italy. Now, I’m looking out the window and I see windmills and tulips.

The great news? Tulips are my favorite flower. The bad news… I didn’t plan for this trip, and I’ve just been doing my best since I stepped off the plane. And there are days where it is really heavy to carry. And there are days where I’m like, “Hey shut up can you talk about anything else?” to myself. Which is mean, but I’m being truthful here. The average amount of time people truly care when something big happens to you is 3 months. That’s not a number I pulled out of nowhere. I have read that in multiple books and articles. I don’t really care, I’m not shaking people by the shoulders asking them to care about me. I would, but I’m getting the attention I want from most of the people I want it from. Anything else is just a cherry on top. I think the issue I have is that I wish I could have been done caring at three months. But I can’t. I can’t be done… ever. I never get to not care about my body. I never get to not know how pivotal this whole year was. That is the burden that has made it hard to write this week. And admitting it means I’ll probably close my laptop and never look back because that’s a lot for me to tell y’all. But it is the truth, and I think writing the truth is the heart of the promise I made to myself. And damn, does it suck. I want to sugar coat it. I want to hand you a whole bowl of ice cream, a hot fudge sundae of words. I want you to dip your spoon in and come out saying, “Yum that was so delicious, I ate way too much.” I want your stomach to hurt from good memories and smiles. I fear nausea is also a side effect of the truth: I’m not okay. That really sucks. And there is no way to make it easier to swallow.

(Imagine a long sigh here while I stare into space and try to find my words)

I am so glad tulips are my favorite flower. They really are beautiful.

Yours truly,

Natalie

PS: If you are super worried about me… I have a great support system, a therapist, meds, etc. I told one of my friends that my brain is so weak now the other day and I swear if we had been in person she would have been in my face with her finger pointing at me saying, “Don’t you ever say that shit again.”

PPS: Mom and Dad, I had so much fun at the movie and dinner with y’all today. Sorry I had to write a bummer of a newsletter afterward. I love y’all more than words will ever be able to describe.

Happy August to all who celebrate! I love August. I don’t know what it is, it’s hot as hell, so I should really be more against it than I am. My whole life until now has been based around a school year calendar, so August has always been the start of something new. I love new school supplies. A couple of years ago, I got all of my siblings and their spouses packs of pens for Christmas because I had a new favorite pen that year and thought everyone needed to know the type of joy that comes with writing with a Sharpie S-Gel. Which, in case you are wondering, is now my second favorite type of pen. I also love people who were born in August… I have a running theory that men born in August are better than the rest of the men. Including, but not limited to, Jack Black, Andrew Garfield, Smokey the Bear, one of my brothers, and my best friend’s son (who is not a man technically, seeing as he is a baby). And also some other important people in my life. If you are worried about my other two brothers who did not get singled out in the “August Men are the best men” theory, one of them was born on September 6th, which is close enough to August to count and the other doesn’t read this newsletter, so he’ll be fine. If anyone is wondering, I also have a theory about the best year that people, specifically men, were born… However, I’ll keep that one to myself because anyone caught in the middle of the Venn Diagram of August and that year would have a lot of pressure on them. Wouldn’t want to create a complex in anyone. I already accidentally did that when I was telling my mom and sister this theory and my 6 year old nephew heard, and he thought that meant I thought he wasn’t one of the best boys. No worries!!! I apologized and told him he IS the best boy!!! Wow, I really didn’t mean for this to be a love letter to the month of August, but sometimes I just can’t hold my feelings in. Did you really think we would make it through this whole paragraph without mention of Taylor Swift? The queen of August itself? Nothing quite hits the way singing, “SALT AIR…” on the first of August does. The best line in that song (literally called August by Taylor Swift), and one I have clung to, sometimes with tooth and nail, is of course, “For me it was enough to live for the hope of it all.”  Speaking of living for the hope of it all, I have some explaining to do. 

In case you missed last week’s letter that I wrote to you, here’s the summary: 

 If you read it, then you know that I didn’t actually write most of it last week. I posted a series of poems that I wrote while I was in and out of the hospital this past spring. While they were posted as a back up plan to what I originally wanted to post, they were in no way a less emotional writing experience. Those poems were the only thing I was able to write while I was in the hospital. And the only way I accessed my feelings during that time, as I depersonalized the whole experience in order to get through it (aka… I didn’t feel much emotion… when people are jabbing you with needles every few hours, you can’t let your fear of needles affect you every time. You won’t make it through with any sanity intact). I know I have mentioned a few times that it’s been a hard year, I’m sick, blah blah blah, et cetera et cetera et cetera. I haven’t meant to be elusive about it, it’s just that I don’t really want to talk about it. It’s a long, detailed story, and there is no way I can adequately convey the pain and fear, anger and annoyance that come with it. It’s one of those types of stories that I wish I could just transfer from my mind into the mind of whoever I am speaking to. I want them to know, it is now a huge part of the foundation of who I am for the rest of my life, but I don’t want to tell them. Rehashing it every time I talk to someone who hasn’t heard the story yet is exhausting. It mentally, emotionally, and physically drains me. However, I also want people to understand why I’m so tired, why I’m quieter than I once was, why my face twitches or contorts at random or I may leave the room in one outfit and come back a few minutes later in a completely new one. As someone who has always shown up and always been there, I wish there was an easy way to explain why “I can’t make it,” or “I need to cancel” or “I’m not feeling up to it,” have become some of my most used phrases over the past twelve months. 

I am going to give you a list of my medical history over the past year. Please know, I am not giving you this list for pity. For the love of all that is good, do not pity me. I can barely stomach the sympathy that I get. That’s not the sympathizer’s fault…  I just don’t know what to do with it, and that’s on me.  

Here we go: 

• Psychogenic Tremors (more on this in a moment!!) 

• Ulcerative Proctitis 

• Ulcerative Colitis 

• E. Coli 

• Colectomy with an end ileostomy (this means they took almost all of my large intestine, some of my small intestine, some lymph nodes, and apparently my appendix, and gave me an ostomy bag!!!)

• Pneumonia 

• Septic Embolisms (or something similar) in my lungs (or as my infectious disease doctor called it “something evil in my lungs”) 

• 6 Blood Transfusions (this isn’t a diagnoses, just felt important to add to the list)

I really wanted to write this today, not because I want to write a long ass post about my medical history, but because I want to write about the experience of being chronically ill. I have other friends who are chronically ill - you know what they say, birds of a feather try to enjoy their lives despite frustrating symptoms on a daily basis together - and there are some things that are hard to understand until you are IN it. But once you are in it, hearing or reading anything that resonates with you is such a balm for the soul. It’s crazy what feeling seen can do for a person. So, I am writing this because other people’s words have saved my life over and over. It’s all I can do to give back. If it counts for anything, other people’s blood has also saved my life over and over… I can’t give back in that area though. Nobody wants my blood anyway. Pinky promise. 

I need to give two disclaimers. First, not all people who have Ostomy bags are chronically ill. People get Ostomy bags for various reasons, mine just so happens to be due to a disease and since I have a few inches of my colon still in me, that tissue continues to be diseased. Yay. Secondly, my medical experience contains both hospitalization and chronic illness. It’s like a swirled ice cream cone: while it is one thing, it is also two distinct flavors. The hospital is hard for me to talk about. There’s a chance that I will never write more than a few sentences here or there about my hospitalizations. However, the fact that I was hospitalized and still am in recovery from major surgery does color the lens through which I see my health.

I think one of the hardest things, at least for me, about being chronically not okay is the guilt. I once lived such a vivacious and, well, busy life. At the time, that’s what I wanted - it’s what fulfilled. I don’t necessarily think there is anything wrong with that, but I have over the years had to take a good long look in the mirror and say, “HEY CALM THE HELL DOWN. YOU ARE TIRED.” Anyway, now I don’t do a whole lot outside of the house. There are many times where I simply can’t. My body will not let me. Within the past 7 days I have sent texts that have said something along the lines of, “Go without me! I’m not feeling up to it,” or “I can’t make it to your birthday party… my body will not make it through” or “Let’s make plans but please know I may cancel at the last minute!” (I sent two of those texts TODAY). As someone who has spent a lot of her life showing up for others, every time this happens almost feels like a physical blow. And when it happens with the same person, often? I can’t even truly explain the anxiety that comes with it. Are they going to think that I am flaky? Are they going to think that I am mad at them? Am I absolutely sure I can’t go? I think this is what the professionals call projecting. My talent has always been people. I didn’t know that was a talent until I was in college. My talent. My focus. My love. People. People. People. So it’s very hard to walk into this new phase of life the way a baby takes their first steps; awkward, uncoordinated, unsure. It’s hard to learn how to be good at something that you were once a natural at. It’s hard to finally come to terms with the fact that you are not constantly letting everyone down, and even if you are it’s just something you may have to get over. 

To add to the list of things that are hard about being chronically ill is the loss of control. I told you we’d come back to my psychogenic tremors. Well, here we are. Almost a year ago (August 8th, 2024), I lost control of my body. I was typing something on this very laptop and my right hand started shaking in a way that is hard for me to explain in words, even 51 weeks later. It twisted, it turned, it flapped, it shook, it fluttered. And then, it spread. My whole arm started moving without me having any intention or control. It would raise up and down and bend at angles and shake. I called my mom freaking out. I called a friend and, through tears, explained that something was wrong and I needed someone to take me to the ER. That was around 5pm. Then in the waiting room of the ER around 7pm or so the left arm joined in. That episode of tremors lasted for 5 hours and only stopped when I had been given so many sedatives that they really shouldn’t have let me leave the hospital that night. Then the tremors/involuntary movements kept happening. For months. They settled down once I had my colon removed, at the end of March… but they recently started up again with a vengeance. And this time, they’re coming for my face too. It’s a rather tiring experience. Something in my brain is firing off in all directions, and my body is constantly moving, while I am thinking about whether or not I want to take an Ativan to sedate myself or just ride it out. But, there’s no actual control of the situation. I can’t control the where or the when. I don’t pretend to know the how or the why. It’s scary to live in a world where your body can all of the sudden turn on you. When you are fine one moment and in pain the next. Where spending a day with a friend means that you know that you are going to be spending at least a day recovering. It is hard to live in a body that doesn’t do what you want it to. It is challenging to learn to live with the fact that you are only partially in charge at any given moment. And it’s frustrating to have to re-learn how to be yourself… when a new symptom starts, when you’re in a flare up, when everything went dormant giving you a sense of false hope that you will feel like a fool for having.

There is lack of control over you body when you’re sick whether or not you look like you are breaking out into spontaneous dance moves and grimacing at everyone near you or not. In the book Fourth Wing (shout out), Rebecca Yarros (the author) does such a wonderful job of explaining this through the main character, Violet. Violet has whatever the fantasy world version of Ehlers-Danlos syndrome is. She’ll be doing something, whether it’s a huge physical activity or just climbing some stairs and will think, “No body, please don’t get dizzy right now.” When I read that, I’m sure I cried. I feel weak (imagine the feeling you get when you are starting to pass out), dizzy, tired, shaky, or like my insides are buzzing at random intervals throughout the day. Every day. There are so many times that I BEG my body, “Please. Just not right now.” In response to not being able to control it, I am constantly achingly aware of every part of my body. That’s exhausting too. Especially because most of the time, something is going wrong.

If you are like, “Nat… see a doctor for these things!” Don’t worry babe, I have! I have a colon doctor and a brain doctor and a blood doctor and a disease doctor. I am near certain I’ll be adding a hormone doctor and a movement disorder doctor and a food doctor to the list soon. I also have a therapist, and she’s really the most helpful one on the whole team. That’s the last thing I wanted to talk about today… is that the medical professionals aren’t necessarily the most… helpful… people in the world. At least not in my experience. Or the experience of many of my friends. Or the recorded experiences of millions of women, disabled people, people of color, or other various marginalized groups of people.

I had a bad doctor’s appointment the other day. I got out of the office at 3ish, angrily debriefed with my mom, then I didn’t talk again until at least 9:00 that night. My test results came back and some were better than they have been for awhile, and then some came back and were really bad out of nowhere. The doctors, the test results, the whole experience is often incredibly frustrating and mostly just lets you down. Even if the doctor is empathetic and listens to everything you have to say (which is rarer than it would be), it still doesn’t fix the fact that your body is not doing what it is supposed to do. It is not functioning at the level you want it to be, and no one can seem to give you answers as to how to fix it. The worst experience is when you go in thinking that maybe, this time, that will change. If I had a dollar for every time I wholeheartedly thought this was all over, or solved, or medicated enough for me to live normally (they call this “managed,” but I’m not really a fan of being managed), only to have a new symptom pop up or a new test result come back concerning one way or another, well… I’d have at least 8 dollars. Which doesn’t seem like a lot, but it’s enough to buy a large latte. And there is absolutely no one on God’s green earth who is walking up to the barista at Starbucks and ordering a Venti iced disappointment with cold foam.

The lifestyle, the phone calls, the appointments. It’s all exhausting. I have nothing beautiful or charming to say about being sick and scared and out of control. I wish I did. But sometimes I think those types of articles are only typed up for the people who aren’t in that position. Because we want them to feel comfortable. At least I do. I want you to feel comfortable calling me and telling me about your annoying coworker. I want you to send me voice messages about your favorite band’s new music video and snapchats about your dog. I don’t want you to feel guilt for living a life that looks different than mine. And I don’t want you to have the expectation that I will turn every hard moment into a beautiful life lesson. I don’t want to have to buffer my sentences with words like, “well, it could be worse.” I don’t want to have to tell you that I know I will come out of this stronger. I don’t want to remind you that I know life is worth living. If I didn’t believe that, if I didn’t believe those things, I wouldn’t be here right now. But sometimes this just sucks, and that is okay. No matter what, I need you to remember that I am fragile, but I am not breakable. My body may have gone haywire, but my soul is just as stubborn as ever. My brother told me one time that I have “always been one to double down,” and you are out of your damn mind if you don’t think that applies to fighting for my own life.

I love this life. And it is hard. And I am tired. All of those things are true at once. If you feel that way too, I hope you know that you are not alone in that.

Love you, mean it,

Natalie

PS: Some words that have helped me get through:

“Remember, it’s only the body that’s fragile. You are unbreakable.” -Xaden Riorson (hottest fictional character of all time), Iron Flame.

Dum Spiro Spero. While I breathe, I hope.

“Don’t let this darkness fool you. All lights turned off can be turned on.” -Noah Kahan

If you missed my letter to you last week, here’s the summary:

To be completely honest, I almost didn’t write to you this week. Today was hard on me, health wise. And I have tried and tried to write this, but… I just don’t feel good. This happens, I’m used to it. I don’t love it, nor do I have anything poetic or lovely to say about major or chronic illness.

I had written two paragraphs in the span of 3 hours and I just couldn’t think of anything to write at all. So, I’ve decided to share a collection of poetry that I wrote while I was in the hospital earlier this year. I named this collection “Faking Sick: Poems from my broken body” because I was gone a lot this past school year, and my students would always joke with me that I was out faking sick. I always told them that I wished I was faking it. However, I titled it that way due to the screwed up nature of the health care system. An ode to all the doctor’s who told me that “it’s just stress” or anything else that minimized they pain and terrifying medical situations that I have been in over the last year. Congratulations doctors, you have at least one hater.

Know that I love you, but sometimes I really only have enough energy to stay alive and make it through the moment. Enjoy this poetry, and enjoy your week!

Yours Truly,

Natalie

Faking Sick: A Collection of Poetry from My Broken Body

Frequently Asked Questions

How many plans will I cancel? 

How many hours will I sleep? 

How many times will I sit down in the middle of an everyday task? 

Or catch my breath in the middle of a sentence? 

How many times can I look someone dead in the eyes and say, “I’m just tired” and wonder if they know it took everything in me to get that sentence out? 

How many times can I stop the anger? 

How many times can I let it flow?

Stare at the ceiling? 

Let the tears fall? 

How many days will I take off work? 

How many minutes will I spend on the couch?

How many empty pill bottles will fill my trash bins?

How many hours or days or months of rest can one body truly require? 

The answer pounds in my head 

Like a drum of war 

As many as you need 

As many as you need 

As many as you need 

Get in Loser, We’re Controlling What We Can 

A bad call from the doctor’s office 

Sets off a series of events

My dad changes the wiper blades 

My mom makes dinner and somehow goes to the store for dog food at the same time 

I read pages and pages worth of insurance information 

I can almost hear my parents thinking

This is all we can do

I can feel it in my body

This is all I can do

Phlebotomy

A new lab tech comes in my room today 

He’s cute 

That’s exciting 

I can flirt with him 

Maybe develop a hospital crush

(It’s kind of like an airport crush, but with a little more possibility) 

He sticks my skin 

It hurts 

The blood doesn’t come 

He tries again 

It hurts 

It’s just not flowing today 

The third time’s the charm 

Kinda

It leaves a mark 

But he squeezes enough out for what he needs

He walks out and I’m let down 

I can’t have a crush on someone who hurts me 

Isn’t it so sad when a man disappoints you and it’s not even 7am? 

Frequently Given Answers 

Maybe after this nap 

Maybe after the dog stops barking 

Maybe with one more blood draw 

Or stool sample 

Maybe one more round of canceled plans 

Another scan? 

Maybe?

Maybe I can come for your birthday 

Could be spring break

Maybe Summer, at the latest

Maybe the pain medicine will kick in 

Maybe the other medicine will too 

Maybe if this meal stays down

Maybe another season of Modern Family 

Another day on the couch

Another shock of red 

Maybe just one more

Maybe just crazy enough to hold out hope 

Or maybe too tired to care 

But too stubborn not to

Maybe then 

Maybe then 

Maybe, then. 

Today is the Day I Get Bad News 

I’m the only one who knows that 

So far, at least. 

My night nurses know, but they don’t actually know. 

They don’t know what the extra red meant. 

They don’t know that I’m failing another medicine. 

Today is the day I give bad news 

It’s not working 

It was too much blood 

It happened too quickly 

It was too much 

It shouldn’t have happened at all. 

I’ll take the news better than everyone else. 

I walked into this hospital thinking I wasn’t going to leave whole. 

I knew exactly what to expect, 

It’s not like I left whole the last time either. 

Young and Free 

They shoved a tube down my throat today 

Put some liquid in my lungs then sucked it back out 

Probably took a picture or two 

I don’t really know 

I’ve been hooked to an IV with antibiotics flowing into my veins for at least 6 hours straight

I had to fight the urge not to roll my eyes at the girl who needed blood when she asked me “so where do they normally stick you?” 

First, because it was 5am 

Second, because once you’ve been stuck over 100 times there’s really no good answer to that 

Third, and most importantly, maybe that girl should do her own damn job 

I couldn’t eat or drink until after the camera came out of my throat 

Which was probably about 4pm 

My day nurse only checked on me once today 

And it’s almost time for my 3rd breathing treatment 

All of that to say — 

It’s 9:35 pm 

And all I want to do is have a dance party

Tornado Warning 

In the crowded coffee shop 

Emergency alerts from seventy five phones 

Blare at the same time 

Nothing changes

No one moves 

No one flinches

But me. 

But me?

I just spent a month and a half in the hospital 

All I know how to do 

Is flinch 

What Are You Having For Breakfast? 

I’m having Rice Chex, no milk, and a protein milkshake 

As I sit and think about death 

I wouldn’t say Death and I have ever walked hand in hand 

More like friends who see each other down the beach 

My feet in the surf 

Hair blowing back 

Hand shielding my eyes from the sun 

I squint down the shoreline and see the shape of someone I know 

He waves hello 

I wave back and smile for a heartbeat 

He’s busy right now 

We’ll catch up later 

I drop my hand and there’s an immediate tug on my arm 

My companions 

Pulling me into the sea 

We splash and play 

We dance in the waves 

Like old friends 

Maybe lovers 

Pain brought me here first 

When we were a secret 

When I didn’t want anyone to know I knew him 

Everybody knows now 

He loves the attention 

When Fear showed up and asked to join 

I stared at her for a long time 

She looked so familiar 

Different, but familiar 

Like maybe I’ve known her my whole life 

Or maybe she has a cousin?

Either way, she joined us in the surf without waiting for an answer 

I look back down the beach again and try to get Death’s attention

I think back to a couple of days ago 

Or was it weeks?

Maybe a month?

The doctor asked the most important question 

If I start to die, do I want him to do everything in his power

To make sure I live? 

I shock the room when I hesitate

If only for a moment

I look up and see Death and for a half a second I think, 

He doesn’t seem like such a bad guy. 

“What are you thinking?” He asks quietly, more tender than I thought he could be. 

And all I can see are the needles and the panic and the faces of people I don’t know 

Hovering over me. 

So many faces. 

So many people. 

“Your friends…Pain and Fear… they’re with me a lot. Everyday really,”

 I try to explain. 

“Those two aren’t friends of mine,” 

Death says softly, 

“And they’re no reason to die.” 

“What are the reasons to die?” I ask. 

As if a doctor isn’t waiting for me to answer him. 

As if I have all the time in the world. 

“There are so many ways to die,” 

Death says, 

“I’m more interested in the way you choose to live.” 

“Say yes.”

The doctor breaks into our conversation. 

The doctor breaks the law.

He tells me to live. 

Death squeezes my hand then starts to walk out of the room. 

He stops at the doors and turns to me, 

“Say yes…

I’ll see you soon enough.” 

Salt water hits my cheek and rips me from my memory 

Pain and Fear are still splashing around 

They can’t tell the difference between my tears and the sea 

I’m not sure I can either. 

I look at them 

“I think it’s time for me to go,” I say over the lapping of our personal playground 

I trudge through the water toward the beach. 

“But you love it here!” They protest. 

“I’m not sure I do,” I respond, “I think I’ve just been here for a really long time.” 

I dry off with my towel 

Wringing out my hair

Throwing on a baggy tshirt, no shorts. 

Ignoring the calls of my companions in the water. 

Their urge to stay. 

I look down the beach and see Death again. 

He’s busy right now, but we’ll catch up later. 

He waves and blows me a kiss. 

Arrogant bastard. 

I chuckle as I walk away

I’m glad he’s busy today. 

I don’t want to meet him with Pain and Fear by my side. 

I want to fall asleep one day and wake up with his hand 

Stroking my hair

He’ll smile at me softly and lean down to 

Kiss my forehead

“Thank you for choosing to live.” 

“Thank you for letting me.” 

Hello! I hope you have seen some beautiful things since the last time I wrote to you. Here’s a summary of last week’s love letter, in case you missed it:

This week I got a book in the mail. Let me tell you something important (take note!); preordering books is self care. You forget you ordered it (so it’s like a present to yourself), and you’re obviously excited about it because you ordered it months ago… forgoing instant gratification in favor of knowing that you’ll have something you really want even if it takes awhile. ALSO, preordering is VERY helpful to authors. If I love an author enough, why would I not want to help them out? Plus, you get excited at least twice: when you order it, then when you get it in the mail and you remember that you ordered it. Twice the excitement for the price of one.

All this to say, I became extremely excited when I remembered that A Rebellion of Care a book of Poetry and Essays by David Gate was going to show up in the mail on Tuesday. I found David’s poetry on Instagram. Or David’s poetry found me, I should say. His poetry is very popular in the social media streets and circles I run in. If you aren’t sure if you’ve seen a David Gate poem on Instagram, if you’ve seen anything recently that was typed on a typewriter, you probably have. Though, David is not the only person in all of existence who uses a typewriter. I would say he is currently probably one of the most popular ones. Well, him and Post Malone in the Fortnight music video with Taylor Swift. If you haven’t seen or read any of his work, you should check him out (@davidgatepoet on Instagram)… or just trust me and order the book. It is a beautiful book full of beautiful thoughts. I have written notes or underlined lines or drawn hearts next to something in almost every poem. Think of Alexis in Schitt’s Creek when she highlights every line of her text book. That’s me with this book right now. If I were describing it to you aloud, I would probably say, “It’s just so… UGH.” Which loosely translates into, “I love it beyond words or coherent thought.”

Chapter 5 of the book is called I POUR OUT THE CONTENTS OF MY NOTES APP IN AN ATTEMPT TO CREATE CONNECTION. And I’ll tell you what — mission accomplished. The whole chapter is just the titles of David’s notes in his notes app listed in alphabetical order. It is just such a human experience, to have your hopes and dreams and thoughts and manifestos and reminders sitting in the notes app on your phone. I cannot even explain why it spoke to me so much, but it did. It reminded me that we aren’t all that different, in fact, in so many ways… we’re the same.

I let David know in the comments of one of his posts how much I appreciated this chapter. He said he knew it was important, so he fought for it. I’m so glad he did.

So, I decided that I would do the same here. I’ll pour out the contents of my notes app for you, my beloved reader… if only to remind you that you aren’t so alone and you aren’t so different. And you may be a little weird, but that doesn’t make you off-putting. Your thoughts are valuable, even if the only place they are ever written down is an app on your phone.

I DID make some modifications to the process… I decided to only share 2023-2025 notes. Anything before that you can see after I’m dead if you know the passcode to my phone. As a former special education teacher, I also took a lot of notes on students’ strengths/weaknesses/favorite foods/pet peeves etc. Those have obviously not been included for confidentiality purposes. And because I had to work my ass off to know those things, you aren’t getting them for free. Well, here we go… see you on the other side!

A 

Address Book

Are

Avengers, assemble

A little bit about me

Am I overreacting? 

And I thought I would go crazy someday

B

Blessings

Blood Donor

Books Suggested 

Boys will be boys (derogatory) 

Behavior 

Bridal Shower Activities 

Books I want

C

Chloe’s Birthday

Christmas Eve To Do List 

Counseling

Can we go cry at Wade’s beach?

Chloe’s Thoughts

Cute at 21, Dumb As Hell at 27:  

D

Debt

Dad’s Commentary on Grey’s

Delicate

Dr Notes

DON’T DELETE

Don’t smile because it’s over, cry because it happened

DC Girls Weekend

E

Eagle Scouts

Everything Doesn’t Need to Be Poetry

Elite

F

Frames

Frequently Given Answers (to myself)

Food

Frustrated by lack of control

For Abigail

G

Get in Loser, We’re Controlling What We Can

Gastro

Groceries

Golden Dragons

H

Honestly

How much time to heal all wounds? 

Holdenisms 

Hope is the Thong with Feathers 

How Many Plans will I cancel? 

How Many Lives Can One Life Hold? 

I

I’m Not Brave, It’s Just Pink Hair Dye.

It’s Supposed to Get Better 

Insurance Card

“Is it weird? Yes. Am I put off by it? No.”

In the morning

I Need to Brush My Teeth

It’s June 10th

I Kick Ice Under the Fridge for Old Times Sake

I wrote a haiku

If I am going to blow this shit up it’s going to be because of my problems, not yours. 

It is more like gasping for air

I thought I graduated Already 

I’m sorry I hate you today 

If I die Tonight

I used to Think 

If I never see an orange bottle again, it will have been too many.

J

Just My Type 

July 4th

L

Little Fat Girl Wants Dad’s Approval

Little Gifts

Lose You to Love Me 

M

More and Less, Part 1 

More and Less, Part 2

My Body Isn’t Making Enough Blood

Medical advice from students

May we know them 

Mile High City 

Missing Out 

Maybe One Day I’ll Tell You 

Modern Family Quotes

Maybe I am brave, but I’m scare a lot too.

N

New Note - 1 Photo 

Newsletter

Nap Time for the Chronically Ill 

New Note - Handwritten Note

Night 15

Nancy

No More Personal Growth

New Albums ‘24

Nutrients

Names

No More 

O

On Womanhood in Late Fall

P

Proud

Praise

Phlebotomy

Phlebotomy

Prologue

Psychogenic Tremors

Play the game to change the game

Polo G 

Performance Review

Q

Queries

Quotes

Quote of the Day

R

Rewrite

Re: mission

Reading Weather

S

Snail Mail

Stool 3/20

Stool 3/19

Stool 3/16

Stool 3/17 

Stool 3/18

Stool 3/15

Step 1

Symptoms

Symptoms

Symptoms

Somebody Told Me This is the Place

Shopping List

Symptoms

Sources of Support

Send to: First @ 

School

T

The Lonely Child in Me Recognizes the Lonely Child In You

The Series

Things That Made Me Feel Like Myself Again

To Do

Today is the Day I Get Bad News

Tornado Warning 

Things to know if you’re gonna love me

This is the year

Things that make me happy

Things Women Have Said to Me

Things that Make me Want to Die

TS11

This is when the feeling sinks in

“The person with with the most points is the biggest slut”

To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before

Travel Check List 

There’s no such thing as fiction in poetry

V

Virtual therapy link

W

Work=Worth????

What are you having for breakfast? 

What I Said

Written by a woman 

What Can you do about it? 

Writing

Wide Awake/ Dead Asleep 

Y

You

You showed up as the “best version” of you and you were rejected. Might as well show up as whoever the fuck you actually are. 

Young and Free

Yes plz, more of that. 

Numbers and Symbols:

6pm In the Summer 

#5

28 Songs

As it turns out, none of my thoughts start with the letters K,U,X, or Z. Interesting!

That’s all I have for you this week, friend. Hopefully you find yourself in my silly little thoughts, and hopefully you see something worth taking note over this week. If you want to tell me your top 3-5 notes app note titles in the comments… have at it! You don’t have to go in order, just pick the ones you want to share.

Yours Truly,
Natalie

Dear friends, family, strangers, and enemies,

Hi! I noticed that I promised, via the title of this substack, that these would be love notes… and I haven’t been addressing all of you at the beginning! I used to be an English teacher who TAUGHT lessons on the 5 parts of a letter, and here I was just leaving one of the most important parts off. I am ashamed.

Anyways, if you missed last week’s post, here’s the summary:

I do owe it to every single one of you to make a correction to last week’s post. My best-friend-in-law has a ranked list of all of the cream sodas he’s tried, not root beers. I wish I would have remembered that correctly, cream soda is way weirder than root beer.

Anyways, what have you been up to lately? I spent the week developing a cute new habit of evening panic attacks. It’s exciting. The good news is, it’s predictable. The bad news is, it’s terrible. Lots of tears and hyperventilating this week. Not one for the books, at least not the books I want to read anyway.

I talked to a couple of my friend’s about it and they both told me, in separate conversations, that this happens to them often as well. They basically Chesire Catted me and said, “Yeah, we’re all mad here.” Both of my friends whom I spoke with offered advice (that I asked for) for the situation. One of them gave me permission to share:

Amongst all of this, I have been thinking about some habits that I have created that could help you if you’re prone to the evening time existential dread, agony, depression, grief, loneliness, etc. These are all silly, random, small things that help me stay in the moment or help me realize that even though it feels bad RIGHT NOW doesn’t mean it will feel bad forever. I know there’s better advice out there. I know there are psychiatrists and psychologists and probably old wise grandmas and maybe even your next door neighbor who could offer you sweeping, wonderful advice. There are people who can talk to you all about your vagus nerve and somatic techniques, etc. Which, now that I am writing it, I realize I do know a lot and read a lot about those subjects. THAT’S NOT THE POINT. The point is, there is a small, very silly thing I do to pull myself through on the dark nights.

So here it is, my hot tip to combat all of the darkness when it hits at night: I think about what I’m going to eat for breakfast.

I realize this is my third post out of three that has mentioned breakfast, and my second post out of three that has been pretty centered on the most important meal of the day… but stay with me. First, I am not actually sure if breakfast is the most important meal of the day. I know in this context it’s very important, but overall I don’t know that that’s a science backed sentiment. Secondly, this is the technique that has flooded me with enough hope and love for life to fall asleep okay(ish) at night many many times.

I would love to make a whole plan for tomorrow. But I can’t. If I plan too much I feel suffocated, and if I don’t accomplish the plan I feel let down. I also can’t plan a lot because every plan we ever make is contingent on if our bodies are willing to carry them out. My precious, sweet, disastrous body is at best, fickle. I used to not listen to it and just push through being tired or anxious or overworked, etc. Then my body said, “Well anything you can do, I can do better,” and stopped working. Anyways, I listen to my body now. I sit down when I am supposed to. Also, threaded into my soul is now the firm and solid knowledge that I don’t know what tomorrow will bring. Unfortunately, I had to learn this a very hard way, and I am still reeling from control I lost a year ago. And 8 months ago. And 4 months ago. And 2 months ago. Also also, really unfortunately, for all of us, control is a huge illusion and it’s rare that we actually have 100% control of anything. I’d say you’re doing well if you are at 50-65% control in most given circumstances. I’m sorry. I don’t like it either. I don’t want to accept it most days. But fighting it doesn’t do much for me (actually, fighting it tends to make it worse).

There are small things I can control. And one of those is what I am going to eat for breakfast. And I can get really excited about it. While I’m thinking about this, I’m making a ton of micro-decisions without even realizing it: what will my morning look like? Do I need to be somewhere by a certain time? Do I have stuff in the fridge? What stuff? Do I want to drive through somewhere? Have I already reached my maximum capacity on outside food for the week? Do I want to cook or do I have something convenient? These are all small choices that, for the most part, I don’t even realize that I’m making.

The big reason this helps me is this: It gives me something to be excited about. I know that I am looking forward to something tomorrow, and it’s going to happen right when I wake up if I want it to. You’ve never seen someone get as hyped about a Chobani Yogurt as I was last night. It’s “Chobani Flips” style, where you flip the fun stuff into the yogurt. I’m working on trying all 21 of the flavors, but so far the Peanut Butter Cup is my favorite. Does this essentially mean I’m eating candy for breakfast? MAYBE. But am excited about my life when I think about it? YES. And sometimes that’s just the boost I need. When it’s really dark, I just need that little bit of light, that lonely star in the sky, to get me through until morning. It’ll all look better in the light. It’ll all feel better when I wake up. It won’t be fixed, but the anxiety won’t be in my throat, choking me when I’m eating that yogurt, the way it feels like it is while I’m going to bed. If I can just get to sleep, the next thing I can do is wake up and eat yogurt. Or pancakes, or donuts, or lasagna if you’re real freaky. That’s what I focus on, that one star in my inky night sky. It’s shines rather bright if I look at it long enough.

So there you have it, there’s my advice for when the weight of the world starts to suffocate you from the inside out… think about what you’re going to eat for breakfast. I know, it’s profound.

Whatever it is that you need do to grab on to that little strand of hope, do it. No matter how small or silly it may be. You have to have hope, it’s what gets you through, and according to Emily Dickinson, it’s the thing with feathers that perches in the soul.

“I like living. I have sometimes been wildly, despairingly, acutely miserable, racked with sorrow, but through it all, I still know quite certainly, that just to be alive, is a grand thing.” -Agatha Christie

I love you so much!

Yours Truly,

Natalie

I warned you that I had no definitive plan for this newsletter. Last week we talked about weakness. This week, we’re talking about music. I love music, so that’s part of the reason… but I would be remiss to not mention that the main reason that I chose to go for a lighter topic this week is due to the tragedies that have happened due to the flooding in South Central Texas, especially Camp Mystic. The news has devastated our state, and we are all having a hard weekend trying to cope with it. I felt like if I were to start writing something deeper or more potent than a silly list, I would end up in a dark hole… and I just don’t know how much further I can dig into that and still make my way out. So, alas, this paragraph should be the saddest one you read in this whole newsletter.

I’ve made the decision that every once in awhile I’m going to drop a Top 10 list. I love a list. Not a to do list. I mean, those are fine and they have a purpose, yada yada yada. But the type of lists I personally want to read are the chaotic kind. The kind that make you go, “Why did anyone ever think to make this into a list?” My best-friend-in-law has a list of all of the brands of root beer he has tried from best to worst. Those are the kinds of lists that I want to read. The random, the minute, the dumb. Side note: I have a list on my phone that I started years ago of the qualities I want in the man that I marry and the only thing on the list is, “A healthy respect for T Pain.” It’s important to have standards.

This week’s list is my current Top 10 songs. I’m not talking Top 10 of all time. I mean… Top 10 within the last week, maybe. “All time” is a crazy thing to ask of me — my mind changes too often to even think about committing to that. Seriously, you could ask me what my favorite movie is and right now I would probably say Jurassic Park. Do I think Jurassic Park is a great movie? Yes. Did I also just watch 4 Jurassic movies in the last 5 days which is probably skewing my opinion a bit? Also yes (Side note: Did we all know Jeff Goldblum was hot in 1997? I just realized this and I don’t know if I’m the one who is behind or if we are all behind as a society). If you had asked my what my favorite movie was a week ago, I would not have said Jurassic Park. “Favorite” is a moving target for me.

Top Ten Songs (FOR RIGHT NOW!!!) (These are not ranked)

*special note: since Taylor got her masters back, I’ve been listening to reputation with reckless abandon. I love that I can listen to my favorite album without feeling guilty. The whole album is about being angry and falling in love, and I am doing exceptionally well at one of those things right now. That being said, I limited myself to only one song from reputation, otherwise this would be a rather boring list.

1. Cliche - MGK, I saw MGK in concert in 2018 (Opening for Fall Out Boy) and he was a MAGNETIC performer and that was before his best album, Tickets to my Downfall, which I did not get to see on tour (I am only slightly bitter). Anyways, this song has taken over my brain, and this line is my favorite: “I’ve got a lotta right in me, but I don’t wanna say this wrong.” It’s a very self aware line, “I know that there’s good in me, but I also know that I absolutely have the ability to f this up pretty easily.”

2. If It’s the Beaches - The Avett Brothers, The oldest song on this list, and a freaking classic. Everything is pretty chaotic, hazy, unclear, etc in my life right now… so when I think forward, or about the future, I tend to sing this song to myself, specifically this line: “If it’s the beaches, if it’s the beaches’ sands you want, then you will have them.” It’s a way to remind myself that everything isn’t over. I can still have the things that I want. Was that what they wrote the song about? No. But that’s the great thing about art, it can mean what I need it to mean to me.

3. Broken Glass - Lorde, Lorde’s whole new album Virgin slaps. If this was a Top 20 then at least 2 more songs from the album would’ve made the list (Shapeshifter, Favourite Daughter) (or maybe Current Affairs and If She Could See Me Now). I love this song in general because it’s Lorde talking to herself, or about herself… or both. Telling herself to keep going. She’s had some long hard months, but she has to keep going because this won’t last. It has to end at some point. I love mostly every line in this song and I am HIGHLY considering using the line, “Last year was bad” as my caption for my birthday post come September. The best part of the song is when she starts making the lists: “Did I cry myself to sleep about that? Cheat about that? Rot teeth about that? Did I sweat hours a week about? Compete about that? Lost my freak about that? Huh, all of the above.” I’ve starting asking myself questions the same way… “Did I take a nap about that? Eat a Totino’s pizza about that? Stop texting back about that? Lose sleep about that?” All of the above.

4. Wilson - Fall Out Boy , I did not think I would mention that Fall Out Boy concert twice in one post, but here I am. I saw this song preformed at that concert… Fall Out Boy was ALSO magnetic, and Pete Wentz and I made eye contact. This song is so good. Full stop. While the whole song is top tier, the most impactful line is, “I became such a strange shape from trying to fit in.” I don’t think I really need to explain why that’s important, you get it.

5. Daylight - Taylor Swift, I said I would only do one reputation song… I did not promise to do only one Taylor Swift song. My friend Bethany LOVES this song, I think of her every time I listen to it. The idea of coming out of darkness and into light is… alluring and hopeful, which inherently makes it a little bit hard and it makes me a little bit desperate for it. I LOVE the lines, “I once believed love would be black and white, but it’s golden… I once believed love would be burning red, but it’s golden.” First of all, the way she hits “white” and “red” scratches an itch in my brain. I also love these lines because it taps into the idea that the good stuff is probably not going to happen how you think it will. We have these fantasies and dreams for the future, and the truth is… they will probably not appear in our lives the way we expect them too. But what if it’s better? What if the way it appears surprises you? What if instead of it being black and white, it’s golden?

6. Sorry I’m here for Someone Else - Benson Boone, there’s no deep meaning to this song for me, personally. I just like the way it sounds. I don’t have a favorite line… I like them all.

7. Baggy Jeans - The Band Camino, I’ve been really into break up songs lately. Not for romantic reasons, but for other reasons (once again, art can be whatever I want… or need… it to be). This song is about thinking everything is going fine in a relationship, and then the other person just casually being like, “Okay we’re done, bye!” While I do not have a similar romantic experience, I do know what it feels like to be blindsided by negative opinions and situations. And I also know what it feels like to be dropped, ticked off of someone’s list, blandly told goodbye after putting in a lot of effort. That’s why the line, “I hope it felt good to cross me off your to-dos,” is usually one that I sing with a lot of gusto behind it. Along with, “You had açaí for breakfast,” but that’s just because I think it’s funny.

8. Hericane - LANY, This might actually be in the Top 10 songs of all time for me. The way it sounds, the emotion it carries. Masterpiece. The first line of the song is, “I don’t know when this tornado hit, you’re from the East Coast, so let’s both call it a hurricane.” The idea of, “Well… I’m not really sure when this all went bad, but it did,” is heartbreakingly honest. My brain will sometimes say, “Something’s wrong.” And I know it’s right… and I don’t know how long it’s been wrong. I don’t know when the tornado hit.

9. Look What You Made Me Do - Taylor Swift, I know, I know… I’m also surprised that out of all the songs on reputation, this is the one I chose. Life is full of constant surprises. I would like to start out by saying that the line, “No, I don’t like you” is one of the most blatant and straightforward lines in all of Taylor’s music, and one of the most relatable. Don’t get me wrong, I love imagery, metaphors, symbolism, etc… and she’s a master of those… so for her to get to a point where she didn’t wax poetic or find a way to symbolize the disdain she felt while writing this… for her to straight up say, “No, I don’t like you,” she had to be so angry, and she had to have wanted to make sure her point was clear. Same, Taylor, same. I also very much connect to “Honey, I rose up from the dead, I do it all the time,” right now. Though, sometimes it gets tiring to rise up from the dead all the time.

10. THE ONE. - Kesha, Kesha’s new album “.” has some bangers on it. This is another one that for the most part I just love the way it sounds. I do like when she says, “I’m coming home tonight” in reference to coming home to herself. I think that we should always be trying to come home to ourselves, and I think that everyone gets a little lost on the way.

I made a playlist of these songs on Spotify. Sorry to the Apple Music girlies, I see you and I love you, but we are not the same.

I hope you listen to some great music this week.

Yours Truly,

Natalie

PS: If you have any weird lists in your notes app on your phone… please tell me about them. I want to know.