Unmentionables - Airing dirty laundry in public

No, it's not about underwear.

I mean, I’m not ruling out talking about underwear, but you can pretty much picture this newsletter as a clothesline in the backyard with unmentionables brazenly swaying in the wind. It’s where I write about hard, uncomfortable, embarrassing, hilarious, sometimes slightly cringe-y life stuff. This isn’t a new idea, but I want to add my voice because I’m tired of the “good vibes only” crowd. I’d very much like to talk about all the vibes.

There will be no “news” in this newsletter.

I don’t have the inside scoop on anything, and I’m very bad at coming up with headlines. I see this more as you and me sitting at my kitchen table or on the rickety lawn chairs out back, just talking. Subscribing ensures that every new edition of the newsletter goes directly to your inbox. Then I hope you’ll read it and respond with “Yeah, me too!!” or “What a load of bullshit!” or something in between with fewer exclamation marks. You can do that by leaving a comment below or, like, totally old school writing me back.

Well, so what IS going to be in this non-newsletter?

1. Beauty.

2. Stories.

3. Lightbulbs.

4. Wordles (Words + Doodles).

5. New friends, real and imaginary.

6. Cake Wrecks.

7. Soundtracks.

1. Things I find unexpectedly beautiful, like these dead flowers on my teenage daughter’s dresser.

Yes, they are currently molding, BUT she bought these for herself, and she replaces them with fresh ones in irregular intervals. She goes to her part-time job and makes the money, and then goes to the grocery store next door and buys herself some flowers. Because she loves them and because she can and because it’s Wednesday, and because she doesn’t have to wait for anyone else.

2. There will be stories. I will write about things that scare the shit out of me, stuff I've done that makes me want to crawl in a hole and inappropriately funny things. Sometimes these stories will be short and included right here. Sometimes they will be longer, and then I’ll put a link for you to read on Medium. I’ll share links for my podcast “Unmentionables” here, too. Well, actually, I have no podcast. I just wrote that, because I really want to start one. After reading a gazillion tutorials, I’m still unsure. And I’m still scared. But I’m saying out loud that I want to do it. Can you tell me, would you listen to my podcast, or are you pretty much podcasted out? I’m not exactly an early adopter.

Yesterday, I was distracted by work while Rob asked me if I wanted to go for a walk. I said no, my mom is about to call me. As soon as I said it, I froze, looked at my computer, then at Rob.

My mom was not about to call me because my mom has been dead for three years.

Tears immediately welled up in my eyes, my throat swelling closed. My aunt was about to call me, not my mom. My mom’s sister. Accidentally speaking about my mother in the present tense and saying I would talk to her while simultaneously realizing that I would never talk to her again made sadness explode in my chest, while Rob wrapped himself around me tightly.

In these strange little moments, time collapses down to nothing, the scab is torn off, the wave crashes over my head.

December 2017 - the last visit with my mother. My sister had the presence of mind to take a few pictures, including this one. I look at my kids the same way my mother is looking at me here.

The best way to figure out if you like my writing and want to keep getting more every week is for you to read my most recent Medium post, “The birthday card I was always too scared to write to my mother.” I use the word “recent” loosely here, as it’s been a year since I wrote that. If me talking about death and depression and my love for croissants and making inappropriate jokes about my dying mom’s butt in the same essay is not your thing, you likely won’t appreciate much else I write. If you are into dying mom butt jokes and croissants, let’s be friends.

3. I will share aha moments I have while writing. This will not be advice on how to write better. I don’t like definitive statements on what good writing is or how to become a good writer. The thing that keeps me from writing is sometimes the worry about whether or not I’m a good writer, but more often, it is whether what I write will hurt or offend people in my life. Rob suggested the title “Unmentionables” to me because for many years, I have censored myself. I have been accused of airing dirty laundry in public (hence the tagline), and it’s true. I am slowly realizing that whether or not my writing is “good” by someone else’s standards, it is good for me to write. The feeling of freedom and relief I experience when opening the window and letting the air circulate in the stale room of my memories is good for me. It is not more important than the potential hurt it may cause other people, but it is not less important either. I have often weighed whether or not to write something based on how it will affect others, not how it will affect me. There is a price for writing about hard things, and there is a price for keeping silent. I’ve been paying the price for the latter for many years now, and I have tried to write again more times than I can count. I’ve stopped and started in fits and retreated again and again out of fear. Telling myself that I’m not a good writer or that I don’t have anything new or interesting to say is an excuse, so I don’t have to look at what hurts and why. I have written and edited this newsletter for a couple of weeks now, telling myself it’s not ready to send. It’s a fucking newsletter!

4. There will be wordles (words + doodles). If you’re a cool person like me and into adult coloring, you can print them out. Like this one:

When I first read this quote, it pissed me off because I definitely do not want to let everything happen to me. But reading it to the end, I think Rilke is telling me to allow every feeling to happen to me. I have noticed in the past that when I try to repress certain feelings (often considered negative by me and society) like shame, anger, and jealousy, I repress all feelings. Pushing the mute button on one, mutes everything. Denying the anger numbs the joy. Repressing the shame dulls the gratitude. I chose this quote for my father’s death announcement. Pretty sure it’s not called “death announcement” (no, not obituary either). You know, those little folded cards that have a picture, the person’s name, birth, and death date, and a quote or scripture (depending on religiosity). Anyway, I chose this one because it reminds me of him. I believe he spent much of his life repressing terror, which made him blind to beauty.

4. There will be overly excited introductions to new friends, real and imagined. You know how people ask which dead luminaries you would invite to a dinner party? Well, there are a shit ton of brilliant people who are still alive and who I’d love to have sitting in my backyard talking until the wee hours of the morning (okay, realistically 10:43 pm tops). Words and people are what my life is about, so aside from my own writing, I will share the best books I read, the most worthwhile podcasts I listen to, and the most magical people on my imaginary friends list.

Today, please meet my imaginary friend Nora McInerny. In one catastrophic year, she lost her unborn baby, then her father, then her husband. It sounds too much, and it is, but as she says, life just keeps throwing stuff at all of us, regardless of whether we think we filled up our punch card. Keep reading; it’s not tragedy porn, I promise. Nora wrote several memoirs and started the hugely popular podcast “Terrible, Thanks For Asking,” which you probably already know, but if you don’t, you’re welcome.

From the podcast description: “You know how when someone asks, "How are you?" you just say "Fine,” even if you’re totally dying inside, so everyone can go about their day? “Terrible, Thanks For Asking” is the opposite of that. Nora McInerny asks real people to share their complicated and honest feelings about how they really are. It’s sometimes sad, sometimes funny, and often both.”

I found Nora and her podcast after my mother died, and I didn’t know how to deal with my complicated grief tangled up in anger, guilt, and relief. Nora sticks out as one of the few people who can truly sit with another human in their deepest grief and desperation without trying to fix anything, without attempting to find a silver lining, all while pointing out the absurd hilarity of situations and honoring all the good, tender, beautiful parts that are still whole.

TTFA and Nora made me feel less alone. It’s the only podcast I still listen to every single week after several years. I adore her, and I think you will, too.

5. Cake Wrecks. Sometimes I will share baking escapades because the smell of vanilla makes me happy, and my secret dream is to make a cake for Mary Berry and open a vegan bakery truck.

When our family first went gluten-free and plant-based, I found Minimalist Baker, who singlehandedly saved all our birthdays. These “Fluffy 1-Bowl Sugar Cookies” are easy to make AND delicious. In much of my v/gf baking attempts, I’ve only achieved one or the other. I make them with a lemon glaze (powdered sugar + lemon juice). Obviously, you could go nuts decorating these, but I like basic. This is a good fucking cookie.

5. There will be a soundtrack. Have you ever thought there should be a soundtrack running as you live your life, just like in a movie? Of course, you have. Me too.

Music was not that big of a deal for me throughout most of my life until I met Rob, who knows every word to every song of every artist who ever existed in every genre (minus boybands). He has impeccable timing and always hits right on the beat when we drive around, fake drumming and nodding along. Anyway, every week I’ll share the one that’s on endless repeat in my portable CD player. The songs are not secret messages about me or my life. They’re just excellent songs I’m obsessed with for whatever reason.

Pretty sure these arms are photoshopped. JJ Julius Son, lead singer of Kaleo.

This week: Skinny by Kaleo. I could say the disturbing lyrics are a social commentary regarding cultural expectations for women and girls. But the reason I actually like that song is that it’s fucking sexy. That voice is reckless in the best possible way.

That’s it for today, except for one more thing…

Do flowers make you happy?

They’re not a replacement for therapy, but they do make me happy. 24 hours after I publish this, I will randomly pick one of you who commented and send you some flowers.

PS: If you read this post on substack directly, you can also subscribe to Unmentionables to get everything I write straight to your inbox.