It’s the summer of, “make a sandwich for dinner”
Of popsicles in the yard, cut grass stuck to bare feet post creek-wander
The summer of closing tired eyes and saying yes to the relentless asks-
“Mom, can a friend come over? Mom, can we get ice cream? Mom are you done working yet?”
The summer of long pool afternoons and turning off notifications and not waking with a phone screen on my face like a parasite
The summer of digging a little deeper
Into my own self and not running when it shows up fully.
The summer of letting go of rituals I have believed will save me
When they have only buried further in.
The summer of releasing what was or what should have been and simply noticing what is
The summer to hold the truths side by side-
No amount of savings, titles, degrees or “security” I have spent the first half of my life trying to obtain has ever made me feel safe enough to live without fear it won’t all blow away.
I have never been satisfied with any size my body has shrunk or bloomed into.
I am still afraid someone will find out I’m not really good enough to have the life, the job, the children I have.
My OCD affects me much more than I ever wanted to admit or face.
I can change my mind.
I can be afraid and still choose what’s best for me.
I can choose differently than I have before.
I can choose me.
This is the summer of letting my soft body love what it loves….and learning to love that.
I’ll be re-reading this letter to myself from love all summer. Thankful to Kendall Lamb for asking me to share it on her podcast, here. (You should really also subscribe to her Substack) :
THE LETTER
Dear Love,
Wow your mind is busy. I can see your brain whirling from here. Your insides are tight with the need to be right. The need to be safe. The need to be good.
It’s so draining, isn’t it? This trying to be better than human all the time?
I know you hear me tell you that it’s ok.
It’s ok to close the laptop, the door, the access to you at all times. You’re not Atlas. You’re not the Commander in Chief. Your hypervigilence only takes life away from you- it doesn’t give it to anyone else.
I know it feels like the entire universe is dependent on whether or not you are awake to catch disasters before they start, but it’s simply not true. The truth is, there isn’t much you can do that doesn’t start with what’s inside of you- as much as you’d like to make it about everyone else.
What if, just for today, you made it a priority to feed your own soul? What if you set the table of your heart with your favorite table cloth, bought fresh flowers, poured a crystal clear glass of Sancerre and invite the smiling faces of those who breathe life into a room- not suck all the air out- to take a seat next to you. What if you put on your favorite playlist? Discussed your favorite book? Jammed on the piano in the living room?
You’re so tired. I see it in the lines on your face, hear it in the drumbeat of your heart. The running ticker at the bottom of your brain’s screen obscures the living, breathing life waiting for you now.
And there is so much waiting for you. So much joy in the holding of your littlest daughter’s hand when she asks you to watch the same movie with her for the 14th time. So much joy when your big kid comes home from school and wants to actually talk to you at all. So much joy in bringing soup to a neighbor. The light in the eyes of someone who hasn’t felt listened to-and heard- in a very long time. The sound of your own voice carrying up the stairs, singing your husband’s favorite song.
Those things you always believe you have to be in order to earn your status as worthy human? The suffering, the workaholic patterns, the martyrdom- they are all just projections. Shadow-puppets on a mural that’s already been painted. They disappear when you turn the light on. What remains is what’s true.
You don’t have to be right. In fact, you’ll be wrong a lot of the time- and there’s such beauty in growing with people who hold that truth as a flashlight.
You are safe. You are safe here with me, insofar as you can trust that nothing you do will earn a merit increase of my absolute adoration of you.
Life is not a performance review.
And finally- you do not have to be good.
In the words of Mary Oliver- you only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves.
Mine, loves you, forever.
What is your summer the summer of?
I’d love to know.
Jenny, first of all, thank you for the amazing and generous link to my Substack. Really, truly, it gave me a good lump in my throat. And your letter! I'll be rereading your letter as well, all summer long. Because the parasite in my palm needs to go. And my body wants to be left alone, already. And then (maybe? possibly?) cherished for all she does and all she is. Thank you for leading the way, even if it feels messy to you. That's what makes me want to sit in the shade with you- it's simply the solidarity. ❤️