Hi friends —

I don’t blame you if you’ve forgotten that I have a newsletter, or if you’ve forgotten who “Dave Stroup” is. I’ve had this newsletter list for almost 15 years now, starting all those years ago on TinyLetter, which shut down a while ago. In any case, I’m trying to get back into writing again, so I’m resetting and reviving these dispatches. There’s an unsubscribe link down at the bottom if you realize you don’t want infrequent updates from me.

I’m still figuring out what I want to say in these things, it’s never been anything formal. Maybe it will find its way into a particular shape, we’ll have to see.

I turned 42 a few months ago, which is, if you’re on this side of 40, a number that feels both impossible and entirely correct. It’s true, I own at least three pieces of official identification that confirm that I was indeed born in 1983.

My forties started feeling very real last year, when I spent more than six months dealing with a flare-up of my ulcerative colitis. We’re young and healthy until we’re neither, and I hate to say that it’s coming for each of us.

I recently found, via the Internet Archive, the blog I wrote while I was in high school. Decades ago I let the domain and hosting lapse, but I can still find the posts. I was initially diagnosed with colitis during my senior year of high school, a few months after 9/11. I mentioned it barely in passing, talking only about an “annoying medical condition” that I would have for the rest of my life. Back then I was trying so hard to pretend like I didn’t have this thing, and I essentially continued with that attitude until this past summer when it became very clear that I was not seventeen anymore and I could not ignore it, or power through it on my own. The reality was, of course, that I could never do any of those things, at least not well, no matter my age.

A few things began to click for me when, last month, I was at the dermatologist. I was there because I noticed some spot on my foot that looked weird and I was deep in some health anxiety so I found the first doctor who had an appointment on Zocdoc. I figured I’d also get my moles checked while I was there, as you do in middle age. None of that is the point, the point was they had me strip down to my underwear in exam room and then wait. And wait. My anxiety began to creep up, and that doesn’t play nice with my colitis, so I began to feel that I needed to go to the bathroom — while waiting an indeterminate amount of time, essentially naked.

I was feeling, of course, vulnerable. Very much so. My mind was a mess, debating risking a bathroom accident versus getting myself dressed, leaving the room, finding someone to tell that I was leaving to use the bathroom, asking where the bathroom was, all of that.

The realization, surprising no one, was that I felt very uncomfortable being vulnerable. It felt miserable. I did not, in that moment, feel like I had my shit together in any sense of the phrase.

Eventually someone knocked on the door to ask if I needed anything while I waited, I said “Actually, there is one thing” and got dressed and used the bathroom. And everything was fine. The rest of the appointment was uneventful. My foot and moles are fine.

What I noticed was that I feel little to no qualms about talking about my vulnerability, especially in the past tense, and especially in writing (hello). But I absolutely hate feeling it in the moment and have probably spent most of my life trying very hard to avoid it under any circumstances.

The thing about bodies, especially as we age, is that we need to get used to the idea of feeling things that are uncomfortable, unpleasant, or even painful and finding a way to sit with them. We can hope it’s not permanent, and we can look for ways to improve the situation, but sometimes it is what it is, and we must learn to make the best life we can with what we have.

If this resonates at all, be sure to give yourself some grace. None of this is easy. Hard things are, after all, hard.

Until next time,

Dave

P.S. If you haven’t yet, you must watch Heated Rivalry. It really picks up in episode 3, and episode 5 is some of the best television I have ever seen. If you’ve seen it, and want to commiserate about the absolutely perfect song choice for the pivotal moment in that episode, please hit reply.