I have always been a do-er: despite chronic illness I had been working a job where I managed 12 people and a million dollars, writing for a food magazine, teaching adjunct at the local university, getting a low residency MFA in poetry, plus biking or hiking daily in summer or skiing nearly every day winter. I was pushing past all the red flags my body was sending up to slow down. I thought I was proving to myself I was strong. Then, a series of viral illnesses sent me into a spiral, bringing on an escalation of my conditions that now mean I cannot sit or stand up for 20 or 30 minutes without symptom flare. I suddenly dropped all my muscle. The “do everything (despite chronic illness)” approach I’d built my identity on is no longer is available. The daring act of discomfort is to rest: to honor what my body no longer asks but demands of me. I am learning to live with my illness and not despite it. I am learning to own that some days I am not able. Some days I need a cane, or mobility assistance. I’m learning to acknowledge where my body is right now and to grow in comfort with the word disability. I’m daring to grieve and be angry. But I’m also daring to find immense pleasure in slowness, in resisting the culturally inculcated drive for output. How can rest be a radically creative act? How might rest offer space for a speculative reimagining of the world that honors not-doing as a sustainable practice? In illness how can being still be empowered-- to be quiet, without need to do, yes, but also to be still as in to persist, to continue on. Some days I can’t find this daring. Some days I am just sad or mad. But some days I can lean on my cane, feel the sun glint on my skin, and be glad for warmth and tenderness and most of all stillness.
I plunged into the unknown 3 weeks ago today on a Sunday when I put my house up for sale and moved to my daughter's awaiting on a senior apt. building to be built and a village surrounding it. I had lived with my 3 grown sons for years , cooking, mothering, and paying most of the house repairs and bills, but a year ago something inside me snapped. i had been so busy mothering, working, cleaning, cooking that i had not thought of myself.I also have health problems, being dizzy when i get up from a chair but i too have been forcing myself to do one little thing a day and not sulking in the beautiful little guest room that my daughter has provided for me. Yesterday i took the two great granddaughters to the mall. they got me for 100.00 but oh it was so fun. Last night , it being the first day of Italian Heritage month, we went to Bingo at the Sons of Italy Lodge hall in Wheatridge Colorado where again we had so much fun even though I had not played for many years they had to show me how. A young man with his grandparents won 5,000.00 which was great to see and we had sausage sandwiches and pizza, so yes this prompt means a lot to me right now so thank you for reminding us to ""blossom""out rather than to be ""stuck"" comfortably in a situation and by the way (the sons have found their own places and are doing good on their own, something i never thought would be possible.
I am afraid, down to my bones, invades my dreams, haunts my waking life, causes me to feel sick to my stomach, tears streaming down my cheeks, afraid of getting lost. So, I go no where I don't know for the most part. I used to more intrepid, with my fear tamable, workable, leave-at-the-doorable...but it has morphed into a goo that covers me and hardens into a tight shell. With my amazing therapist, Brian, every Therapy Thursday, he reminds me to "sprinkle compassion" on myself, which I have imagined as green, sparkly glitter. My list of nourishing acts: Refill my metaphoric bottle of green glitter before it runs out on a regular basis, keep sending my memoir (already written-90,000 words of fabulousness that no one yet in the publishing world seems to "get") out there because I know it's great, acknowledge my fear and give it compassionate understanding for it is part of me and always has been, listen to my favorite music-earbuds in, volume on loud and revel in joy and/or sorrow of each piece. Thank you Suleika for your vivid descriptions of your experience (down to your dress-I love fashion-it's really wearable art) of going to your Honey's concert and then of your spiral into the shit hole of medical complications and (uh-oh, too many "ands") and your will to get out anyway. I loved Paulina's story and prompt, so thank you for that too.
It is comfortable for me to stay at home and assume that people don’t like me. I assume to that texts that weren’t returned means rejection. I also typically assume that I talk too much. But what I have learned is that a whole lot of people assume that other people don’t like them. There have been psychological studies in this! When I first read about it, I really appreciate this little window into the metacognition of a large group of people. Some of the assumption that people don’t like me is probably trauma-related or related to the lies that my parents fed me: you can’t make friends, something is wrong with you, and you’re insignificant. I’ve been fortunate to have found good friends who are honest and kind, loving and generous. They are my family. I have my own family too now (a living husband and a child) and I tell my child: you are loved and I hear you and you are important to me. It is hard for me to pick up the phone and call a friend who I haven’t called in a long time or even recently. The voices in my head scream “THEY DON’T LIKE YOU.” But I tell the voices to shut up and I pick up the phone to contact a friend who is always happy to hear from me.
A while ago, a young man asked me to be in a scene in his short film, and though I love to act and can act, I said no. Just as I have for so many things I’d love to do since moving to the northeast: rollerblade in Central Park, bike ride to Hoboken, or attend a fashion show. Last week, I realized that I had fallen into the familiar pattern of serving others but not myself - it feels sacrilegious to do so. Yes, at 54, I still have some work to do. Anyway, a few days ago, I told the young man I would do the funeral scene, and it's this Wednesday, and I am low-key elated! What are some other things I’d like to do: sing some live backgrounds, attend the ballet, and have a spa day with my man.
Thank you, Paulina Pinsky, for this prompt in particular; it's hard to admit that I want to do something for myself, like act or sing, but I did here in the safe space of the Isolation Journals.
I love this prompt and the shares so much-thank you. For me it is how to sooth the loneness of living in a place where I have not truly made communion or deep contacts. This year, many of my familiars have left and most without goodbye. I have tried and COVID- at an advanced age made attempts more difficult. What to do? 1) make that call 2) sit in a coffee shop 3) I don't really know...most of my world is Virtual and busy at works also Virtual--- it becomes hard to transition off that screen.
So very happy to hear of your “excursion” to hear Jon’s concert. I can imagine the awesomeness it was to be there, bathing in the music. And accompanied by your family and beloved friends. Thank you, as always, for “bringing us along.” The always awaited Sunday prompt perfectly suits. Thank you again, and thanks to Paulina Pinsky for the reminders her story and prompt engender (so happy to learn of your movings on), and gratitude to Carmen for her role in keeping the Newsletter going. With Sunday love to all and La Shana Tovah to all who celebrate.
Two years ago, as I was caring for my husband who was dying, I made the decision to sell the big house and move back to the small house we bought when we first moved to Las Cruces. It was old even then and now much older. My incredible loving talented son in law re did the floors and the kitchen cabinets and I had a yard put in. We had used it as a rental when we bought the big house so it needed a lot of love. Then a week and a half later, as I was trying to unpack, my husband died in his sleep. I was so numb. I have slowly learned to live again, at least a bit, and wake up every morning looking at all the work that went in to redoing the house feeling such a sense of the love that my daughter and her husband feel for me. But, yesterday, they came over and we went to look at new houses. They feel, that as I age ( i am 70) I need a safer place to live, both in the neighborhood surrounding me and the house with accommodations that suit a disabled “old lady”. It was a shock. It was something I hadn’t thought of. The house i live in is old and yes, everything keeps breaking, and the neighborhood is not the same as it was 37 years ago, but I had gotten comfortable in the house I knew. I know they are right, but it will be challenging moving again. I kept thinking no I am fine here, but really I am not, and it is hard realizing you need to get out of your safe space and move on with your life. I am so very lucky I can move, and that I have wonderful family to help me, but it is hard leaving the little cocoon I built around myself after my husband died.
First time poster here (and I’m afraid of even the vulnerability of this post)
For years I have dreamed and talked of starting my own business. I wanted to take control of my own destiny and free myself from the shackles of corporate America, the curious glances on the rare days when I opted to be authentically me. But the truth is the thought terrified me- still does. I craved the familiarity of my toxic work surroundings. I felt that each time I thrived is an environment of mistrust, each success through a sea of daggers was a sign that I was overcoming. I floated gracefully in my sea of toxicity.
And then two weeks ago, I lost my job. Shit. This was not the plan. And while I’ve talked of starting out on my own, I didn’t mean right now. Each day,
I dissolve into tears, then have a moment of excitement. Right now it’s a never ending ritual that I have to believe is symbolic rebirth into the unknown but where I’m supposed to be. How can the most uncomfortable moment of your life leave traces of anticipation for what’s next?
First congratulations to Jon on his Carnegie Hall concert. I loved seeing Suleika and her beautiful family pictured. And congratulations Paulina on your sobriety. I’ve been about 15 years sober.
So much of these posts resonate with me. Learning to leave a “comfort zone” can be life enhancing in so many beautiful ways. Several years ago, before my sobriety, I had a nervous breakdown and spent 2 days as an inpatient. It was one of the best things I ever did. I lived with depression, anxiety, some PTSD and extremely low self esteem. I love to go out and see things and many times I would deny myself because I feared doing things alone. After my breakdown I started writing things down. Things I had bottled up and never talked about. Things I couldn’t say out loud. This was my catharsis! After that I would go out to eat alone. I would go to a movie alone. I will go to lectures or wildlife educational programs alone. Just learning to be comfortable with myself was a huge jump for me. I still like to see people and maybe after Covid it’s time to start reaching out to some old friends and making some new friends so that will be a new goal.
Goals for the week. I’m not putting them in order.
Deep clean one at least one room.
Go to the Boston Museum of Fine Arts to see the portraits of the Obama’s ( the portraits are there til Oct. 30).
Go to the gym no less then 3 days.
Pick up a pad and do one drawing.
Paint the bookcase you bought last year that’s sitting in a corner.
Take Maisie to her grooming appointment Friday with Harly (that one is a set time).
With age comes a whole new mindset. Two weeks ago, my husband spent seven days in the hospital with heart problems and at the same time I was having surgeries for three skin cancers, one of them on my back was a worrying melanoma. The second one at the base of my neck on my back was a basal cell and the last one was a basal cell on my nose, and all of them terrified me. My face is who I am visually and it was going to be permanently altered and scarred. Cauterized blood vessels and internal sutures have turned it into a lumpy, bumpy technicolor mess that is numb, and at the same time, a buzzing wound as the nerves try to regenerate.
My husband had an Ablation procedure that will hopefully stop the A-Fib episodes, and my biopsies all had clear margins, which I know is the only thing that matters…but the stress and anxiety of it all is real.
I don’t know how to be 67. In my head I can still turn cartwheels, but we all know THAT’S not ever going to happen again. Priorities are at the forefront and as my poor nose tries to heal, my “what-ifs” are finding their way to “in spite ofs”. Life is a wild ride and sometimes all we can manage to do is hang on for it.
Suleika, I’m so glad that you were there for Jon’s performance in spite of how you were feeling. You were present for that wonderful experience. There’s strength in numbers, and what you shared tells me you are surrounded by wonderful folks.
I hope y’all feel the love from me and the admiration for every one of you who share yourselves in these posts, and especially for you, Suleika, for bringing this group of lovelies together. I am so thankful for you. ♥️
Susu, I’d hoped and prayed that you made it to Carnegie Hall - and oh did you with swerve and style. Yes, you paid the dear price for that and Boston but it seems you know how to retreat and take care of yourself. There is nothing wrong with being still and napping. My God woman, what you have been through!
Now todays intention. I married a man fully knowing that he had done terrible things to others. In far hindsight it seems I thought that he loved me and his past was his past. Leopards don’t change their spots, and not too long after the marriage his affairs started along with constant belittlement of me. A medical health crisis got me out, and I never went back. It was a long journey, today when asked I simply reply that I survived a bad marriage but learned a lot. Embrace your new life with continued clarity and joy.
I starve myself to the point of nearly dying and then embark on a resurrection when I don’t need to nearly die in order to be reborn. It is time to blossom as Nin says and my nourishing practice for today is allowing my friends to take me out for ice cream on a pass from the hospital where I am currently recovering from surgery.
Thank you for sharing your journey Paulina. Love to you and this amazing healing community ❤️🩹
The biggest change I’ve made in these past few tumultuous years is one of perspective. I’m married to the same man, a person I adore, we live in the same house, on the same street, in a a city I loved to decades ago believing a big change of locale, a geographic change, would force real change in my thinking. Wow. It takes what it takes as they say for a moment of clarity to clear away our delusions. I am enough. Just as I am right where I live. Knowing this at last I was able to write my best work. For fun and for free. For me.
I have always been a do-er: despite chronic illness I had been working a job where I managed 12 people and a million dollars, writing for a food magazine, teaching adjunct at the local university, getting a low residency MFA in poetry, plus biking or hiking daily in summer or skiing nearly every day winter. I was pushing past all the red flags my body was sending up to slow down. I thought I was proving to myself I was strong. Then, a series of viral illnesses sent me into a spiral, bringing on an escalation of my conditions that now mean I cannot sit or stand up for 20 or 30 minutes without symptom flare. I suddenly dropped all my muscle. The “do everything (despite chronic illness)” approach I’d built my identity on is no longer is available. The daring act of discomfort is to rest: to honor what my body no longer asks but demands of me. I am learning to live with my illness and not despite it. I am learning to own that some days I am not able. Some days I need a cane, or mobility assistance. I’m learning to acknowledge where my body is right now and to grow in comfort with the word disability. I’m daring to grieve and be angry. But I’m also daring to find immense pleasure in slowness, in resisting the culturally inculcated drive for output. How can rest be a radically creative act? How might rest offer space for a speculative reimagining of the world that honors not-doing as a sustainable practice? In illness how can being still be empowered-- to be quiet, without need to do, yes, but also to be still as in to persist, to continue on. Some days I can’t find this daring. Some days I am just sad or mad. But some days I can lean on my cane, feel the sun glint on my skin, and be glad for warmth and tenderness and most of all stillness.
I plunged into the unknown 3 weeks ago today on a Sunday when I put my house up for sale and moved to my daughter's awaiting on a senior apt. building to be built and a village surrounding it. I had lived with my 3 grown sons for years , cooking, mothering, and paying most of the house repairs and bills, but a year ago something inside me snapped. i had been so busy mothering, working, cleaning, cooking that i had not thought of myself.I also have health problems, being dizzy when i get up from a chair but i too have been forcing myself to do one little thing a day and not sulking in the beautiful little guest room that my daughter has provided for me. Yesterday i took the two great granddaughters to the mall. they got me for 100.00 but oh it was so fun. Last night , it being the first day of Italian Heritage month, we went to Bingo at the Sons of Italy Lodge hall in Wheatridge Colorado where again we had so much fun even though I had not played for many years they had to show me how. A young man with his grandparents won 5,000.00 which was great to see and we had sausage sandwiches and pizza, so yes this prompt means a lot to me right now so thank you for reminding us to ""blossom""out rather than to be ""stuck"" comfortably in a situation and by the way (the sons have found their own places and are doing good on their own, something i never thought would be possible.
I am afraid, down to my bones, invades my dreams, haunts my waking life, causes me to feel sick to my stomach, tears streaming down my cheeks, afraid of getting lost. So, I go no where I don't know for the most part. I used to more intrepid, with my fear tamable, workable, leave-at-the-doorable...but it has morphed into a goo that covers me and hardens into a tight shell. With my amazing therapist, Brian, every Therapy Thursday, he reminds me to "sprinkle compassion" on myself, which I have imagined as green, sparkly glitter. My list of nourishing acts: Refill my metaphoric bottle of green glitter before it runs out on a regular basis, keep sending my memoir (already written-90,000 words of fabulousness that no one yet in the publishing world seems to "get") out there because I know it's great, acknowledge my fear and give it compassionate understanding for it is part of me and always has been, listen to my favorite music-earbuds in, volume on loud and revel in joy and/or sorrow of each piece. Thank you Suleika for your vivid descriptions of your experience (down to your dress-I love fashion-it's really wearable art) of going to your Honey's concert and then of your spiral into the shit hole of medical complications and (uh-oh, too many "ands") and your will to get out anyway. I loved Paulina's story and prompt, so thank you for that too.
It is comfortable for me to stay at home and assume that people don’t like me. I assume to that texts that weren’t returned means rejection. I also typically assume that I talk too much. But what I have learned is that a whole lot of people assume that other people don’t like them. There have been psychological studies in this! When I first read about it, I really appreciate this little window into the metacognition of a large group of people. Some of the assumption that people don’t like me is probably trauma-related or related to the lies that my parents fed me: you can’t make friends, something is wrong with you, and you’re insignificant. I’ve been fortunate to have found good friends who are honest and kind, loving and generous. They are my family. I have my own family too now (a living husband and a child) and I tell my child: you are loved and I hear you and you are important to me. It is hard for me to pick up the phone and call a friend who I haven’t called in a long time or even recently. The voices in my head scream “THEY DON’T LIKE YOU.” But I tell the voices to shut up and I pick up the phone to contact a friend who is always happy to hear from me.
A while ago, a young man asked me to be in a scene in his short film, and though I love to act and can act, I said no. Just as I have for so many things I’d love to do since moving to the northeast: rollerblade in Central Park, bike ride to Hoboken, or attend a fashion show. Last week, I realized that I had fallen into the familiar pattern of serving others but not myself - it feels sacrilegious to do so. Yes, at 54, I still have some work to do. Anyway, a few days ago, I told the young man I would do the funeral scene, and it's this Wednesday, and I am low-key elated! What are some other things I’d like to do: sing some live backgrounds, attend the ballet, and have a spa day with my man.
Thank you, Paulina Pinsky, for this prompt in particular; it's hard to admit that I want to do something for myself, like act or sing, but I did here in the safe space of the Isolation Journals.
I love this prompt and the shares so much-thank you. For me it is how to sooth the loneness of living in a place where I have not truly made communion or deep contacts. This year, many of my familiars have left and most without goodbye. I have tried and COVID- at an advanced age made attempts more difficult. What to do? 1) make that call 2) sit in a coffee shop 3) I don't really know...most of my world is Virtual and busy at works also Virtual--- it becomes hard to transition off that screen.
Thank you, thank you, friend, for sharing your ups and downs with us. Keep on keeping on — we are all cheering you from afar. xoxoxo

So very happy to hear of your “excursion” to hear Jon’s concert. I can imagine the awesomeness it was to be there, bathing in the music. And accompanied by your family and beloved friends. Thank you, as always, for “bringing us along.” The always awaited Sunday prompt perfectly suits. Thank you again, and thanks to Paulina Pinsky for the reminders her story and prompt engender (so happy to learn of your movings on), and gratitude to Carmen for her role in keeping the Newsletter going. With Sunday love to all and La Shana Tovah to all who celebrate.
Two years ago, as I was caring for my husband who was dying, I made the decision to sell the big house and move back to the small house we bought when we first moved to Las Cruces. It was old even then and now much older. My incredible loving talented son in law re did the floors and the kitchen cabinets and I had a yard put in. We had used it as a rental when we bought the big house so it needed a lot of love. Then a week and a half later, as I was trying to unpack, my husband died in his sleep. I was so numb. I have slowly learned to live again, at least a bit, and wake up every morning looking at all the work that went in to redoing the house feeling such a sense of the love that my daughter and her husband feel for me. But, yesterday, they came over and we went to look at new houses. They feel, that as I age ( i am 70) I need a safer place to live, both in the neighborhood surrounding me and the house with accommodations that suit a disabled “old lady”. It was a shock. It was something I hadn’t thought of. The house i live in is old and yes, everything keeps breaking, and the neighborhood is not the same as it was 37 years ago, but I had gotten comfortable in the house I knew. I know they are right, but it will be challenging moving again. I kept thinking no I am fine here, but really I am not, and it is hard realizing you need to get out of your safe space and move on with your life. I am so very lucky I can move, and that I have wonderful family to help me, but it is hard leaving the little cocoon I built around myself after my husband died.
First time poster here (and I’m afraid of even the vulnerability of this post)
For years I have dreamed and talked of starting my own business. I wanted to take control of my own destiny and free myself from the shackles of corporate America, the curious glances on the rare days when I opted to be authentically me. But the truth is the thought terrified me- still does. I craved the familiarity of my toxic work surroundings. I felt that each time I thrived is an environment of mistrust, each success through a sea of daggers was a sign that I was overcoming. I floated gracefully in my sea of toxicity.
And then two weeks ago, I lost my job. Shit. This was not the plan. And while I’ve talked of starting out on my own, I didn’t mean right now. Each day,
I dissolve into tears, then have a moment of excitement. Right now it’s a never ending ritual that I have to believe is symbolic rebirth into the unknown but where I’m supposed to be. How can the most uncomfortable moment of your life leave traces of anticipation for what’s next?
First congratulations to Jon on his Carnegie Hall concert. I loved seeing Suleika and her beautiful family pictured. And congratulations Paulina on your sobriety. I’ve been about 15 years sober.
So much of these posts resonate with me. Learning to leave a “comfort zone” can be life enhancing in so many beautiful ways. Several years ago, before my sobriety, I had a nervous breakdown and spent 2 days as an inpatient. It was one of the best things I ever did. I lived with depression, anxiety, some PTSD and extremely low self esteem. I love to go out and see things and many times I would deny myself because I feared doing things alone. After my breakdown I started writing things down. Things I had bottled up and never talked about. Things I couldn’t say out loud. This was my catharsis! After that I would go out to eat alone. I would go to a movie alone. I will go to lectures or wildlife educational programs alone. Just learning to be comfortable with myself was a huge jump for me. I still like to see people and maybe after Covid it’s time to start reaching out to some old friends and making some new friends so that will be a new goal.
Goals for the week. I’m not putting them in order.
Deep clean one at least one room.
Go to the Boston Museum of Fine Arts to see the portraits of the Obama’s ( the portraits are there til Oct. 30).
Go to the gym no less then 3 days.
Pick up a pad and do one drawing.
Paint the bookcase you bought last year that’s sitting in a corner.
Take Maisie to her grooming appointment Friday with Harly (that one is a set time).
Don’t sleep all day! Get out and walk the dogs.
With age comes a whole new mindset. Two weeks ago, my husband spent seven days in the hospital with heart problems and at the same time I was having surgeries for three skin cancers, one of them on my back was a worrying melanoma. The second one at the base of my neck on my back was a basal cell and the last one was a basal cell on my nose, and all of them terrified me. My face is who I am visually and it was going to be permanently altered and scarred. Cauterized blood vessels and internal sutures have turned it into a lumpy, bumpy technicolor mess that is numb, and at the same time, a buzzing wound as the nerves try to regenerate.
My husband had an Ablation procedure that will hopefully stop the A-Fib episodes, and my biopsies all had clear margins, which I know is the only thing that matters…but the stress and anxiety of it all is real.
I don’t know how to be 67. In my head I can still turn cartwheels, but we all know THAT’S not ever going to happen again. Priorities are at the forefront and as my poor nose tries to heal, my “what-ifs” are finding their way to “in spite ofs”. Life is a wild ride and sometimes all we can manage to do is hang on for it.
Suleika, I’m so glad that you were there for Jon’s performance in spite of how you were feeling. You were present for that wonderful experience. There’s strength in numbers, and what you shared tells me you are surrounded by wonderful folks.
I hope y’all feel the love from me and the admiration for every one of you who share yourselves in these posts, and especially for you, Suleika, for bringing this group of lovelies together. I am so thankful for you. ♥️
Susu, I’d hoped and prayed that you made it to Carnegie Hall - and oh did you with swerve and style. Yes, you paid the dear price for that and Boston but it seems you know how to retreat and take care of yourself. There is nothing wrong with being still and napping. My God woman, what you have been through!
Now todays intention. I married a man fully knowing that he had done terrible things to others. In far hindsight it seems I thought that he loved me and his past was his past. Leopards don’t change their spots, and not too long after the marriage his affairs started along with constant belittlement of me. A medical health crisis got me out, and I never went back. It was a long journey, today when asked I simply reply that I survived a bad marriage but learned a lot. Embrace your new life with continued clarity and joy.
I starve myself to the point of nearly dying and then embark on a resurrection when I don’t need to nearly die in order to be reborn. It is time to blossom as Nin says and my nourishing practice for today is allowing my friends to take me out for ice cream on a pass from the hospital where I am currently recovering from surgery.
Thank you for sharing your journey Paulina. Love to you and this amazing healing community ❤️🩹
The biggest change I’ve made in these past few tumultuous years is one of perspective. I’m married to the same man, a person I adore, we live in the same house, on the same street, in a a city I loved to decades ago believing a big change of locale, a geographic change, would force real change in my thinking. Wow. It takes what it takes as they say for a moment of clarity to clear away our delusions. I am enough. Just as I am right where I live. Knowing this at last I was able to write my best work. For fun and for free. For me.
Suleika’s Crew Pic is nothing short of FABULOUS!!! Love it!🖤