Acceptance, Relief and Being Wrong

This piece was originally sent as my monthly newsletter for November 2022.

Hello friends,

Wow. This blank page has never looked more intimidating.

I wish I had a “pretty” excuse for four months of radio silence, but the reality is that I have been grieving. This is something I detailed on the blog last month, so I won’t revisit the emotional rollercoaster in its entirety. Several weeks ago, I was still in the throes of depression, but I have since reached acceptance.

Picking up from there.

No one tells you that “acceptance” does not equate to “happiness,” so I was surprised to find myself here—hopeful, yes, but not healed. One of my best friends in the world is still suffering. Life as I knew it has come to an end. And so, I am left asking—

What do I desire?

It’s a hard question to answer because… how dare I try to build something new when there is still such chaos around me? I hop on FaceTime calls with friends, give them updates from the hospital, and apologize when they start to cry. I have grieved all year, but that’s not the case for everyone who is being affected by this change.

Who am I to make plans? Who am I to reach for contentment?

Hope feels different these days than it has in the past. It’s light-footed and skittish and tinged with guilt. But when I sit in the presence of the people I love most and mull over how far we’ve come in the last few months, I am reminded that misery does not encourage healing—mine or anyone else’s.

So, though joy may feel slightly out of reach this holiday season, I am choosing relief.

Relief feels like stringing up Christmas lights in my apartment. It feels like psychoanalyzing Midnights with my roommate. And eating a sugary treat for the first time in over a year. It feels like coffee with friends and time to read.

And being wrong. I never realized how freeing it is to be wrong. At least twice a day, I say to the room, “Huh, I was wrong about that,” and nothing falls on my head or bursts into flames. It’s just a fact.

No matter the emotions you’re carrying this week (shoutout to my persistent overwhelm and anger), I hope you’re able to enjoy the nearness of loved ones and the promise of a new year ahead.

Happy Thanksgiving, kindred spirits. I am grateful for you.

Always,
Aquinnah