This Time
August 5, 2023
“The treasures that are hidden inside you are hoping you’ll say yes.” – Elizabeth Gilbert, Big Magic
I launched this website, this blog, my products, on my 50th birthday – August 5, 2018. I had the idea hidden inside me for some time, and finally pledged they’d see the light of day when I turned 50. The morning of my birthday, it went out into the world – not with a bang, but with an almost incomprehensible whisper. I had the courage to get it out there, but not to share it, especially not with people who knew me (save for my partner, who supports me fully in everything). What if they thought it was dumb? Unprofessional? Silly? Self-indulgent? Unsubstantiated musings from a social scientist who was supposed to always and only put forth the products of empirical evidence?
So there it sat, in the shadows. I would write blogs when inspired and post them. I updated the look of the website and added a few features to make it easier to navigate for the zero people who were navigating it. Occasionally I would drum up the courage to share with an online group where I didn’t know anyone well. I finally shared with my childhood best friend and one other professional friend who I was mentoring. My partner shared with a few people he encountered whom he thought it would benefit. It was always well-received, but I still couldn’t get past those pesky what ifs.
A lot has happened in my life in the last five years. My beloved Mama who was part of my everyday life passed away in her 90s. I hit menopause; or rather, it hit me. Daily. With buckets of fire. Oh, yeah – there was a pandemic. On the wonderful side, I have had opportunities to go back many times to places where younger me lived and learned and grew – the Boston suburbs and New Orleans. Seeing these places now through my more creased eyes, or through my readers if looking close up, has helped me realize both how far I’ve come in some ways and how fundamentally me I remain in others.
I spent a little time today thinking about how women my age are saying more and more often that they no longer have any fucks to give. When I first heard that expression years ago, I thought it was hilarious, but lately when I’m supposed to feel that way, I’ve found myself feeling sort of cringy with that notion though I wasn’t sure why. It’s not the profanity – that part I still find hilarious. I think it’s because it just seems so angry, which is just not my general nature. It implies a clause that precedes it that is filled with frustration…like “that’s the last straw, I no longer have any fucks to give…” or “I am done with all you people, I no longer have any fucks to give…”. I want to keep caring; I kind of want to care more. But I want to care differently. Not about those what ifs. I don’t want to care about the imagined judgments of people who don’t have my best interests at heart. But I do want people to see the everyday joys that they are likely walking right past. I want people to be even just a little happier, to have a tiny bit more fun despite the big and small frustrations in the world. To craft their days to maximize the good, for themselves and for others.
And so that takes me back around to Demand the Shimmer. So here I am again. Five years later. This time, it’s on.