Swim!
And other things I'm doing to stay alive.
I’ve said before that spring is the beginning of my "new year." It’s my awakening—the time when I break out of my frozen chrysalis, shake off the shit, and spread my amateur wings. I’m leaning into that revolution now more than ever.
This winter season was a real bitch. I elbowed my way through loss and slid to my floor in defeat more times than I’d like to admit. I spent four consecutive days in bed at one point. I wasn’t the only one, either. I shouldered my way through my friends' breakups and fuck-ups too. It was grim. But isn’t it sweet that even in our own pit, our friends aren’t far behind?
And on the topic of friends, I’m feeling luckier than usual. I’ve been reflecting on what it really means to be family to people who aren’t your blood. Yes, it’s shared coffees and long road trips. But more than that, it’s “I can’t bear the sight of my laundry today—can you come help?” It’s “If I were to die today, I’d want you to have my baby.”
Sometimes that level of honesty is too much for people. I know it’s certainly been for me, at times. It’s easier to say you’re the village than to actually be a villager. It’s especially difficult when your village spans the country—from Greenville to Raleigh to Charleston and New York. LA and Nashville and more, and more, and more. The space between can feel vast at times, but at my worst, it’s never been too far for someone to reach across. Thank God for the seats around my campfire.
On the topic of God… I am seven years sober from regular church attendance, and I’m starting to come back around to the idea of organized religion. I don’t know if I’ll ever be the one serving communion or typing a bulletin, but I might become someone who drifts between pews from time to time. Only time will tell.
When you’ve been choked by the clutches of evangelicalism, it’s hard to crack the door open and say, “Okay, I might be ready to look at this in another light.” And when you’re surrounded by people who have also been hurt, it’s hard to reconcile the collective trauma, too. I can’t say I’ve arrived at what it all means, but I can say that I am open to receiving.
I can’t overstate how important it is for all of us to be engaged in love with the people around us, especially in this season of uncertainty for many.
I’m finally settling in to my role as a wife after nearly three years. I’ve felt more connected to Reagan than ever — we are functioning more and more as a unit with each passing day. Obviously, we have always been bound together in the most intimate way, but I feel like we’re entering an even deeper stage of knowing together. We’ve started to read each other’s minds. We are able to anticipate each other’s needs before a word is said. This comes through as completed chores and walks after dinner.
That might be all it takes — just doing the dishes, even when you don’t want to.
I am peering over the cliff of summer and watching all the colors swim. I don’t have anything particularly exciting planned over the coming month but that feels right to me. The world is my oyster!
As always, I love hearing from you. These letters are our on-going conversation… let me know how your week has been, what you’re looking forward to, and the best song you’ve heard recently.
Thank you for listening. Thank you for caring. Thank you for loving me.
I love you too,
HM

Come with me to young adult progressive/non-denom-friendly church camp in November??
Your a really special human hali