Everything Is Horrible and…Awesome?

The best of times keep showing up inside the worst of times.

Hi Friend,

Back at the end of March I had what was probably one of the worst days of my life. Bear with me as I talk about this in vague terms because I’m not ready to share details, but I had to do something really, really hard. So hard that up until the morning of the thing, I was hoping and praying for a miracle that would mean I didn’t have to do it.

Instead, I showed up at a place I never dreamed I’d ever have to be, and sat in a room with a person who has previously stalked me online and who I never should have had to face in real life.

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It was the definition of the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day.

But, of course, I survived—not only did I survive, but I did so while looking hot and holding my head high (photo evidence below).

And, strangely—divinely?—after this awful experience, the rest of the day completely opened up.

I had plans to go to a friend’s house and debrief, but she wasn’t feeling well so I picked up her daughter from early-release at school. Then I was meeting a friend for a drink in the afternoon, and decided to go to the restaurant early and treat myself to lunch with a gin & soda. When my friend arrived, she took care of the bill—including my lunch.

That evening another friend came over for wine and snacks, and I went to bed marveling at how the worst day was somehow also the best day.

I had been hoping for a miracle that day, and it turns out I got one—just not the one I was expecting.

A few weeks ago, I had another horrible/awesome experience. I returned home from Ecuador, where my mom and I attended the wedding of an exchange student my parents hosted 15 years ago.

My mom and I with the bride and groom, Romy & Brandon. My parents hosted Romy as an exchange student 15 years ago.

I came home and promptly got sick: upper respiratory infection AND traveler’s diarrhea (TMI—sorry!). My doctor said ice is usually the culprit, and that made total sense since I was for sure drinking my fair share of cocktails at the wedding.

The problem was that two weeks after I got home, I was hosting my second in-person retreat. I had four people registered, and was looking for another four sign-ups. But more than that, I was looking for my own health and energy to be where I needed if I was going to host a full day retreat.

I canceled everything I could for the next two weeks, and from bed I sent emails and responded to DMs.

Wouldn’t you know it, three more sign-ups came in WHILE I WAS SICK IN BED.

That retreat happened two weekends ago and it was another awesome experience: gathering with seven women for a full day of focusing on how our energy affects our writing practice. We ate delicious food, learned about Human Design, commiserated over challenges in our creative process, spent time writing, and even shared some of our work.

I’m telling you—I have not been sick like that in a very long time, and somehow I still had this perfectly amazing day in spite of how out of it I had been just a few days before.

All of these experiences—the worst/best day, the epic trip in the midst of personal crisis, the amazing retreat after being sick—have been reminding me, constantly, consistently:

This. Is. Life.

I used to think about pain and joy on a spectrum. By that I mean: we’d go through a season of pain, and then a season of joy. Almost as if the joy were the reward for surviving the pain.

If only life were so simple.

If only we could keep the food from touching anything else on the plate.

But no. It’s not a linear spectrum—it’s a jumbled fucking mess. Pain, joy, suffering, pleasure, all together like a tangled ball of yarn.

The mess is hard and, yes, even ugly and utterly heartbreaking. But it’s also awesome and totally, brilliantly, breathtakingly gorgeous. And, do you know what else?

It’s my mess. And I’m here for it.

p.s. I’m looking for three women working on books to join me for a fall writing retreat at my home in Sacramento. Click here to schedule a call if you’re interested.

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