The scrolling and reading and the meanness and the “Well, actually I know what God thinks,” is a lot today. How do I survive? How do WE survive? Right now. How do we make it better so we aren’t exhausted and depressed two clicks into Facebook? How do we feel less alone?
The grief is getting to me. The stories are heartbreaking. Our inability to wrestle with the gray, embrace nuance, and get honest about how we move forward is frustrating. I feel stuck in the mess. And when that happens, I text, I write, and I send letters to inboxes. I type to my sisters and friends, and sometimes my parents about what’s going on, and how I need help, and also wasn’t it hilarious how Kathryn sang My Milkshake for our Thanksgiving prayer and Grandma almost ended her life in Jesus’ name, Amen?
So Now What?
I’m gonna start something–something I need right now, and maybe you do too. I want to be on the other end of a letter, a note of hope for your inbox, a way to care for each other in a personal way. I want a way to see each other closely. My brain needs positive reinforcement, a reminder that we are not alone in this.
The letters will be a way to say the things we need to hear: keep up the good work; you should def read this book; here’s a way I’m learning; but also I’m super scared; look, this gif is awesome. I promise to share the things I’ve tried that help me stay grounded, and I’ll listen when you tell me what works for you too. I also promise I’ll share the stuff that helps me smile, like the name of an amazing bourbon or how Beyoncé is having twins. #blessed
Heads up, I will use strong language for strong feelings (but no name calling). So if you’re interested, let me know.
We’ll go live the week of Valentine’s Day. It’s not fancy, but it’ll be real.
Think of it as place for us misfits to fit one day a week.