Being a person is hard—maybe even more these days. Conversations with friends, lately, have shown me this. Revolved around it. Everyone is struggling in some way.

Sometimes, it’s with things we don’t or can’t even talk about. Sometimes, we talk about it until we’re going in circles. But the truth remains: being a person is hard.

I’ve been heart-deep in the new Noah Kahan album, which is full of hard truths and old ghosts and loss and love. The mess and the miracle of everything. It’s what’s brilliant about art—it conveys, touches, and holds up a mirror.

It’s shown me how I’ve made peace with some things I never thought I would. It’s shown me that I still have miles to go with some others. It’s equal parts hard to hear and cathartic.

It’s made me try to poke at the roots of some connections/relationships. How far down do they grow? How solid is this? What’s weed, and what’s oak? What’s flower, and what’s vine?

In the end, I suppose, all that matters is that things grow, the important things. Some people, in life, give shade. Others give fruit. If you’re lucky, someone does both.

Right now, this has been an odd spring. It feels like a season at war with itself. And that’s a bit on the nose, for whoever is writing this damn year. But it’s true. It’s been lush and green and wet, but far too cold, most days. Sometimes, it’s winter in the morning, only to ripen into spring by the afternoon.

It’s Wrong Coat Season: whichever you grab will end up being the wrong choice. Sometimes, that also feels like a metaphor. But I digress.

I used to disappear whenever I was upset. Not literally. But if a heart could hold its breath, mine would. I had a tendency to internalize. If it mattered to me, though, I’d drag myself out of that silence and have a conversation. It used to take me weeks to do that, sometimes. These days, I try to bypass the silence and go straight into the hard stuff.

But again, only if it matters to me. I don’t waste my time if it doesn’t. I don’t waste my energy and my heartstuff if it doesn’t matter. I spent the morning talking a dear friend through a hard thing they’re dealing with, and I will always think that is a privilege—to be someone’s person. Because that’s what you do: show up for your people. And mine are the best, period.

But again, I digress. I do that.

Consider this your friendly reminder to be gentle with yourself, if things are struggle-y. Consider this permission to do what you need to. Consider this reason enough to open or shut a door. But above all else, remember that you matter, even if you haven’t felt that way in the past. That you can bury everything but the truth. (I mean, you can try, but it will dig itself up and outrun you. Trust me.)

And, lastly, it’s okay if you don’t have it all figured out. Spoiler alert: we are all making this up and we go along. None of us really have it together. In fact, I think most of us don’t, and we’re just cosplaying our way through it as best we can.

Until next time, darlings. XOXO