May 21, 2023Liked by Suleika Jaouad, Holly Huitt, Carmen Radley
Thank you for your words. 🙏🏻 I keep feeling that exhaustion is layered like a strudel; we can recognize physical exhaustion, but often less so moral exhaustion, exhaustion borne of ancient and ongoing injustice and intergenerational trauma, exhaustion that has its roots in cruelty, exhaustion that comes from relentless self-blame. I’m writing a book right now on permission, and while its focus is the creative impulse, I keep thinking that the tentacles of permission are so much more far-reaching: permission to rest, permission to listen to one’s body, permission to show up for oneself, permission to say No. There is so much in your words for which I am grateful, as always.
May 21, 2023Liked by Suleika Jaouad, Holly Huitt, Carmen Radley
"I did not begin to live alone till I was forty-five, and had “lived” in the sense of passionate friendships and love affairs very richly for twenty-five years. I had a huge amount of life to think about and to digest, and, above all, I was a person by then and knew what I wanted of my life. The people we love are built into us. Every day I am suddenly aware of something someone taught me long ago — or just yesterday — of some certainty and self-awareness that grew out of conflict with someone I loved enough to try to encompass, however painful that effort may have been." May Sarton
May 21, 2023Liked by Suleika Jaouad, Carmen Radley
I’ve had three skin cancer surgeries, one on my nose that has changed the geography of my face, followed by screenings every four months, 1/3 of my colon removed, and three other abdominal surgeries that have changed me forever. I feel like every other person in the world is inside a gigantic circle and I’m on the outside, looking in from a distance. But because I’m writing this, I have survived every invasive, horrible, terrifying, brutal, and anxiety-inducing thing that’s ever happened to me. I try to remember that every night before I fall asleep. And because you’re reading this, you’ve survived those things too.
May 21, 2023Liked by Suleika Jaouad, Holly Huitt, Carmen Radley
Where do I fall on the Solitary Spectrum? Hmmmm! I’m pretty far on the solitary side. I may not be an island but I could live on an island. Or a thousand acres with a house in the middle surrounded by big fences. No neighbors would be nice. I know this sounds awful. I’ve worked in some form of service my entire life and actually like talking to people. I enjoy sharing experiences with someone. I think it’s called “social introvert”. I care about people a lot. I care for people I haven’t met. And people I know in real life. I love with Todd my S.O. I used to hate being alone. I thought it was wrong not having a huge social circle. That I was off or weird. It used to bother me being different. I would literally crumble at being thought if as “weird”. I hated that word. Now I embrace my weirdness. It took a nervous breakdown and a lot of therapy to get to this point. Again I love meeting up with friends at times. Or talking to random people. I remember one meeting with a young woman and get dog at Watch Hill some years ago. We walked the entire beach talking with out dogs. I learned a lot about her in that one time. We never saw each other again but I appreciated that shared experience with a stranger. When I am social I prefer small groups. Crowds make me claustrophobic.
I really don’t intend to go off the grid. I just like to think about it. I can find solitude in my own room. I just like to play the grumpy loner. It’s part of my persona.
May 21, 2023Liked by Suleika Jaouad, Carmen Radley
The very first line right after Hi friend is what stuck with me most. I too spend a lot of time thinking about how to honor people no longer with us. Our daughter left this earth at just 24 years old after an intense adventure with cancer. Her very best friend, her literal other half, is getting married next year. How do we honor and include her our daughter while keeping the vibe high and circling and celebrating the bride. For all of us, including the bride, it's a tricky balance of isolation while being surrounded by celebration. A lit candle or a an empty chair is not the solution. Maybe a Margarita truck or silly signs with puns on the port a potties. These two friends celebrated life and all it threw at them. How do I find a way to do that now? More than anything I feel love but there is still an aching longing and sadness.
May 21, 2023Liked by Suleika Jaouad, Holly Huitt, Carmen Radley
Remembering and being prompted by a poet who first inspired me, the writer inside me, to write (Walt W.) and now, by the writer, you, Suleika, whose Isolation Journals prompted me so many years later, to write again. My desire for solitude and the sweet moments when I find it, cultivate that writing. My need for connection often leaves me in a puddle of tears. And that too, cultivates my writing.
May 21, 2023Liked by Suleika Jaouad, Holly Huitt, Carmen Radley
“Who are those people who put out a book every year?” I literally asked myself this last week. A friend who is extremely prolific and filled with energy announced their latest project. It made me want to weep with frustration because I simply can’t keep up. But their personal reality isn’t mine, and I have to remember that I need white space (my version of “still”) so that my ideas can breathe.
May 21, 2023Liked by Suleika Jaouad, Holly Huitt, Carmen Radley
Isolation is a dream killer but solitude can be bliss and there's a fine line between the two, the idea that sometimes 'stuck is just still' is extremely helpful, I'll bring those words along with me today. In the three years of isolating and still minimizing risk (Covid), I have come to embrace these growing pains.
May 21, 2023Liked by Suleika Jaouad, Carmen Radley
The ebb and flow of my energy has changed dramatically with time. When I was 23, before I had a motorbike accident in which I suffered a traumatic brain injury (TBI), which left me comatose for three months, I derived my energy from social gatherings. Now, I’m in my mid-30s, after my accident, but also after the pandemic, when I learned how to sit in peace to craft my memoir (still WIP), I began craving solitude. However, now, if an entire week goes by without any social interaction, I feel something is wrong. The grass is always greener on the other side for me 😂😂
May 21, 2023Liked by Suleika Jaouad, Holly Huitt, Carmen Radley
I spent many years searching for family. What I mean is unconditionality-but it was not there. No qualms about what is because I failed, it was a good try. What I created is beauty around me and extraordinary companions. My kitty, pup, and plants are so happy-content-that is good. And I bought my kitty a glorious new cat tree for my birthday. What is truly is.
I live in a 900 square foot apartment with my temporarily unemployed partner and our elderly Great Dane. I spend my days with 21 4th graders. I am hungry for solitude at this point of my life. We are facing job changes and a move home across the country, but we will be staying with my mom until we find a house to rent or buy. There are tons of blessings embedded in this scenario, including the gifts of having a partner, a mother, and the joy of returning home to family...HOWEVER...I would give a lot to have a week by myself in a bright cottage with a window over the kitchen sink. I would walk barefoot on the warm wood floors and admire the sun's patterns on the walls. There is not one living being who needs me in sight, just books and a garden and open windows. No wait--each day I am visited by one of my dear friends (who are also beleaguered by too many demands on their emotional resources and not enough time for themselves) and we will sit on the porch drinking iced tea and sharing our thoughts without interruption. Eventually we end up laughing until we can't breathe, and we feel like a million bucks!
Suleika this is what resonated with me today that you wrote:”Much later I came to understand that, along with the treatments and care from my medical team, finding ways to convert isolation into creative solitude and connection was the most powerful form of healing that I could conjure for myself. It became my ethos, and later the ethos of this community.”
This to me is the bravest most courageous piece of wisdom that I’m reading today. You have created powerful ways to connect within isolation which has helped me and I’m sure many others. In this age of disconnect plus with your health challenges, you have found a path to connect with many and they with you, to show us there’s always a way and to not give up. Today I go to a funeral of someone who lived a long life and hopefully a good life. I won’t know many of the people, and most I will never see again, but thru you and thus community of The Isolation Journals, it’s guided me to feel I’m not alone, and I have this powerful connection to this community. Another life lesson is “ it’s not all about me” and because of this awareness, resting when I need to, I can be there for others. May you all give yourself the time of rest and grace.
May 21, 2023Liked by Suleika Jaouad, Holly Huitt, Carmen Radley
Acknowledging the ebb and flow of your own energy is deeply kind and a gift to yourself. Tap into the vast creative potential of dream and resting states for your body, mind and spirit: it’s where all creativity stems from. Allow yourself to start over, again and again. Your innate wisdom deeply knows this.
May 21, 2023Liked by Suleika Jaouad, Holly Huitt, Carmen Radley
Following Quintin's story, from your book to the posts on here, was heartbreaking.
The difference between alone and lonely, between isolation and solitude, between happy in our own company and yearning to belong sometimes in a group or with another. ❤️
Thank you for your words. 🙏🏻 I keep feeling that exhaustion is layered like a strudel; we can recognize physical exhaustion, but often less so moral exhaustion, exhaustion borne of ancient and ongoing injustice and intergenerational trauma, exhaustion that has its roots in cruelty, exhaustion that comes from relentless self-blame. I’m writing a book right now on permission, and while its focus is the creative impulse, I keep thinking that the tentacles of permission are so much more far-reaching: permission to rest, permission to listen to one’s body, permission to show up for oneself, permission to say No. There is so much in your words for which I am grateful, as always.
And I will write to Calvin today.
"I did not begin to live alone till I was forty-five, and had “lived” in the sense of passionate friendships and love affairs very richly for twenty-five years. I had a huge amount of life to think about and to digest, and, above all, I was a person by then and knew what I wanted of my life. The people we love are built into us. Every day I am suddenly aware of something someone taught me long ago — or just yesterday — of some certainty and self-awareness that grew out of conflict with someone I loved enough to try to encompass, however painful that effort may have been." May Sarton
I’ve had three skin cancer surgeries, one on my nose that has changed the geography of my face, followed by screenings every four months, 1/3 of my colon removed, and three other abdominal surgeries that have changed me forever. I feel like every other person in the world is inside a gigantic circle and I’m on the outside, looking in from a distance. But because I’m writing this, I have survived every invasive, horrible, terrifying, brutal, and anxiety-inducing thing that’s ever happened to me. I try to remember that every night before I fall asleep. And because you’re reading this, you’ve survived those things too.
My kindergarten report card said, “plays well alone.” I still do.
Where do I fall on the Solitary Spectrum? Hmmmm! I’m pretty far on the solitary side. I may not be an island but I could live on an island. Or a thousand acres with a house in the middle surrounded by big fences. No neighbors would be nice. I know this sounds awful. I’ve worked in some form of service my entire life and actually like talking to people. I enjoy sharing experiences with someone. I think it’s called “social introvert”. I care about people a lot. I care for people I haven’t met. And people I know in real life. I love with Todd my S.O. I used to hate being alone. I thought it was wrong not having a huge social circle. That I was off or weird. It used to bother me being different. I would literally crumble at being thought if as “weird”. I hated that word. Now I embrace my weirdness. It took a nervous breakdown and a lot of therapy to get to this point. Again I love meeting up with friends at times. Or talking to random people. I remember one meeting with a young woman and get dog at Watch Hill some years ago. We walked the entire beach talking with out dogs. I learned a lot about her in that one time. We never saw each other again but I appreciated that shared experience with a stranger. When I am social I prefer small groups. Crowds make me claustrophobic.
I really don’t intend to go off the grid. I just like to think about it. I can find solitude in my own room. I just like to play the grumpy loner. It’s part of my persona.
The very first line right after Hi friend is what stuck with me most. I too spend a lot of time thinking about how to honor people no longer with us. Our daughter left this earth at just 24 years old after an intense adventure with cancer. Her very best friend, her literal other half, is getting married next year. How do we honor and include her our daughter while keeping the vibe high and circling and celebrating the bride. For all of us, including the bride, it's a tricky balance of isolation while being surrounded by celebration. A lit candle or a an empty chair is not the solution. Maybe a Margarita truck or silly signs with puns on the port a potties. These two friends celebrated life and all it threw at them. How do I find a way to do that now? More than anything I feel love but there is still an aching longing and sadness.
Remembering and being prompted by a poet who first inspired me, the writer inside me, to write (Walt W.) and now, by the writer, you, Suleika, whose Isolation Journals prompted me so many years later, to write again. My desire for solitude and the sweet moments when I find it, cultivate that writing. My need for connection often leaves me in a puddle of tears. And that too, cultivates my writing.
“Who are those people who put out a book every year?” I literally asked myself this last week. A friend who is extremely prolific and filled with energy announced their latest project. It made me want to weep with frustration because I simply can’t keep up. But their personal reality isn’t mine, and I have to remember that I need white space (my version of “still”) so that my ideas can breathe.
Isolation is a dream killer but solitude can be bliss and there's a fine line between the two, the idea that sometimes 'stuck is just still' is extremely helpful, I'll bring those words along with me today. In the three years of isolating and still minimizing risk (Covid), I have come to embrace these growing pains.
The ebb and flow of my energy has changed dramatically with time. When I was 23, before I had a motorbike accident in which I suffered a traumatic brain injury (TBI), which left me comatose for three months, I derived my energy from social gatherings. Now, I’m in my mid-30s, after my accident, but also after the pandemic, when I learned how to sit in peace to craft my memoir (still WIP), I began craving solitude. However, now, if an entire week goes by without any social interaction, I feel something is wrong. The grass is always greener on the other side for me 😂😂
I spent many years searching for family. What I mean is unconditionality-but it was not there. No qualms about what is because I failed, it was a good try. What I created is beauty around me and extraordinary companions. My kitty, pup, and plants are so happy-content-that is good. And I bought my kitty a glorious new cat tree for my birthday. What is truly is.
I find this essay exquisitely, painfully beautiful.
I live in a 900 square foot apartment with my temporarily unemployed partner and our elderly Great Dane. I spend my days with 21 4th graders. I am hungry for solitude at this point of my life. We are facing job changes and a move home across the country, but we will be staying with my mom until we find a house to rent or buy. There are tons of blessings embedded in this scenario, including the gifts of having a partner, a mother, and the joy of returning home to family...HOWEVER...I would give a lot to have a week by myself in a bright cottage with a window over the kitchen sink. I would walk barefoot on the warm wood floors and admire the sun's patterns on the walls. There is not one living being who needs me in sight, just books and a garden and open windows. No wait--each day I am visited by one of my dear friends (who are also beleaguered by too many demands on their emotional resources and not enough time for themselves) and we will sit on the porch drinking iced tea and sharing our thoughts without interruption. Eventually we end up laughing until we can't breathe, and we feel like a million bucks!
Suleika this is what resonated with me today that you wrote:”Much later I came to understand that, along with the treatments and care from my medical team, finding ways to convert isolation into creative solitude and connection was the most powerful form of healing that I could conjure for myself. It became my ethos, and later the ethos of this community.”
This to me is the bravest most courageous piece of wisdom that I’m reading today. You have created powerful ways to connect within isolation which has helped me and I’m sure many others. In this age of disconnect plus with your health challenges, you have found a path to connect with many and they with you, to show us there’s always a way and to not give up. Today I go to a funeral of someone who lived a long life and hopefully a good life. I won’t know many of the people, and most I will never see again, but thru you and thus community of The Isolation Journals, it’s guided me to feel I’m not alone, and I have this powerful connection to this community. Another life lesson is “ it’s not all about me” and because of this awareness, resting when I need to, I can be there for others. May you all give yourself the time of rest and grace.
Acknowledging the ebb and flow of your own energy is deeply kind and a gift to yourself. Tap into the vast creative potential of dream and resting states for your body, mind and spirit: it’s where all creativity stems from. Allow yourself to start over, again and again. Your innate wisdom deeply knows this.
Following Quintin's story, from your book to the posts on here, was heartbreaking.
The difference between alone and lonely, between isolation and solitude, between happy in our own company and yearning to belong sometimes in a group or with another. ❤️