on almosts, therapists, + joy
Good morning my beautiful friends!
I love doing these impromptu letters - because it feels like I am calling my best friend to check in. And speaking of, I actually don’t know what I would do without my best friend. Do you have those people (or that one person) in your life - where everything you go through, it’s like they’re going through it, too? Every good or every bad thing - they’re there to celebrate with you, without any resentment. Or, they’re there to turn off their camera in a work meeting so they can focus on helping you create the perfect paragraph to send to an ex. If you have that person, never let them go. And never let them leave you, either. Chosen family.
Today, I’m curled up on the couch with my first espresso. It’s 10:30, and surprisingly I did not stay in bed until 11 today. That’s something I’ve been doing a lot of lately, and doing it without guilt. If I stayed in bed until past 9 in Toronto, I’d beat myself for not waking up at 8 to meditate and listen to my morning affirmations. And honestly - I’m not really sure if that morning routine made me feel any better.
I feel like morning routines have become so glamorized and also this chore - with everyone on TikTok showing us how they do 180 things before 11. Most of the time, I lay in bed watching Real Housewives recaps - and tbh, I’d rather start my day watching Bethany Frankel yell at everyone than commit to running a mile and journaling out my trauma at 7 am.
Also, the irony in that last statement. I feel like I am about to unload my personal trauma on everyone, and its not even 7 AM in Toronto.
I hinted about something a few newsletters ago - about something that happened to me in March, where I didn’t think I’d ever be the same again. It was something where my safety was put at risk by someone close to me. And I don’t know how many different couches I slept on for the month of March, but I am forever grateful for my own chosen family, and the fact that I even had couch options.
My therapist told me that my only job is to “cultivate joy”. And I’m emotional in saying this, because something I feel like as a society - we almost fear joy. We fear letting ourselves feel happiness, either because we’ve been conditioned to believe that we (subconciously) don’t deserve it - or - that it will be taken away from us at any point. So we keep on keeping on, in fear of celebrating our wins incase we “jinx” ourselves, or we feel like we have to prepare ourselves for the next curveball life will throw.
My mom’s been speaking to me lately. I know this, A. because of all the books I’ve been picking up and reading and B. she came to visit me in a dream the other night. We were giggling in bed, and I was telling her about all of the things I was scared she would judge me for. Getting so drunk at a wedding that I truly can’t remember most of the night, not talking to XYZ, etc. etc. And you know what her reaction was? Pure joy and laughter. I also told her it was my first time paying taxes this year - and how proud of myself I was for it. (Also wow tax season is actually the worst)
Anyways, I’m reading “Tiny Beautiful Things” by Cheryl Strayed. It’s basically an advice book, and the first piece of advice she gives is to this guy who thinks he’s in love with his girlfriend, but is too scared to tell her.
Essentially, Cheryl explains to him that he probably does love his girlfriend, but because of his own fears of getting heartbroken / fears of disappointment / fears of abandonment etc. etc. - he’ll forever stay in that self-imposed prison, avoiding love all costs, unless he chooses to change.
Not only did I think this was Rose speaking to me, being like “HI, remember how you’re committing to being open to the possibility of love?” And no, mom, I haven’t forgotten, because I’ve been trying to manifest Jess from Gilmore Girls but also - the word “almosts” came to mind.
Do you have an almost? Someone where, it was never traditionally defined as a “relationship”, and now, it’s a bit too generous to use the word “friendship”. Someone where you both find yourself lingering in each other’s lives, checking in every few weeks, with nothing but good intentions and a general care for the other’s well-being.
Maybe it’s this continual curiosity, or maybe it’s this habit that needs breaking, but neither one of you can really escape that self-imposed prison. And what I’m learning now is that maybe there’s a co-relation between the fear of letting ourselves feel joy and the fear of letting ourselves feel love.
And maybe some people are placed into our lives to be tiny, beautiful things. Little moments in time that have the ability to transform into something more, something less, or sometimes into almosts.
Anyways, today I am cultivating joy by going to get my favourite pizza, cry at the wisteria growing over the old, pastel buildings, admire the couples who look so in love, and thank god that my boyfriend is (yes, non-existant) but also not carrying a string backpack.
I love you,
Emily