I’m happy you’re here. If you’re wondering why you’re not subscribed yet, let me help you with that:
You can listen to a voiceover of the entire letter by clicking the audio version below:
Hi, sweet friends. Welcome back to a whole lot of Not Complaining — your buy-one-get-one-free deal of the summer: feelings and more feelings!
The month of June seemed to swallow me entirely whole, like the large quantities of blackberries I’ve been gobbling up from the volunteer vine growing along my driveway… it’s constantly encroaching on my parking spot. Alas, in the final days of this month, I am taking a brief pause from the extreme busyness of the arrival of summer to write to all of you, my sweet strangers and friends. It seems that I woke up one morning to the familiar bustle of this season: 9 pm dinners, early morning baking before it gets too hot, urgently shutting my laptop to jet off to a cold river plunge between the conclusion of the work day and the commencement of long evenings chatting with friends in the backyard until it’s well past my bed-time. In summary: I haven’t felt like sitting at my computer for an extra minute, let alone hours, to jot down my feelings and complaints to you all this month, until now — because 1.) I missed you and 2.) I finally have some feelings I’d like to ship off into the vastness of the world wide web.
If you know me, you know that summer is my time. I am summer. My dearest, oldest pal whom I met in 1st grade has always attributed my behavior and personality traits to having a summer birthday, and she is not wrong. In my last letter to you, we explored why it can feel so challenging sometimes to take care of ourselves (taking supplements, exercising, meal prepping, the list goes on). But I swear, the calendar hits June 21st and I am suddenly a smoothie-drinking, pilates-doing, home-cooking machine. So what gives?
We journeyed down the truth about nostalgia in my last letter (read it here if you missed it) and the familiar, albeit indescribable, feeling of homesickness that creeps up on us when we need it most. I deeply appreciate the longing and wishing to be in a place or time I was especially fond of. Sometimes, it’s a remembering of a different version of myself—like the gal who picked chestnuts on our family friend’s farm in the fall, or spent wee morning hours baking bread for the farmers market. I like to think back on these versions of myself with rose-colored glasses, because in my memory they are less worried and carry less grief, but somewhere at the base of my gut the glasses fly off, and with twenty-twenty vision, it couldn’t be more clear that I am, in fact, the same as I’ve always been.
I align pretty seamlessly with the stereotype of people who cry on their birthdays. It’s typically some combination of the waltz toward my eventual demise and the overwhelming joy and gratitude I feel to be dancing through life at all. Every July, it feels like the stories I create about myself and my life melt away like a popsicle left outside on the sidewalk, pooling into a puddle of sweetness around its little center stick. In this case, the stories that I can get so caught up in through the daily grind of existence (the ones about not having a clear direction in life, being a mediocre friend, not working hard enough, etc), seemingly melt off of me, and I’m left with this raw, albeit strong, version of myself. I am the popsicle stick, and the unhelpful narratives are now in a sticky, gooey puddle somewhere at my feet. I love my birthday month, because it feels like a stripping away of all the sticky and hard stuff that holds me back from being who I am at my core — the person I’ve been for a long, long time.
I Facetimed my friend the other day on his birthday, preparing to wrap him up in compliments and warm, fuzzy feelings for his special day. I thought he may not answer, assuming he was actively eating cake or crowd surfing amongst his very large group of friends, who all adore him to his core. That’s not what happened. He answered the phone almost in tears, after a long hard look in the mirror. That’s the other thing about birthdays, they remind us that we are flawed, beautiful, complicated humans with a lot of work to do and a lot of love to give and receive. Sometimes our birthdays can feel like a big reminder of how far we still have to go on our healing journey, and often that can feel overwhelmingly lonely. The truth is, we are alone on our path. Surrounded by our friends and loved ones, we are walking down a road that is of our own making, and no one can walk that very same path with us. And, while it’s true that none of us are ever completely alone as we’re graciously loved and supported by the people in our lives, remembering that we are on a different road than anyone else can be a rather lonely realization.
When I spoke with my friend about why he was feeling so blue on his birthday, it really came down to one thing: acceptance. Every day we’re presented with a choice — to be swallowed whole by the stories we tell ourselves about how we aren’t good enough or, we can accept that we are doing our absolute best at the hardest thing imaginable: finding our way down a path that no one has ever gone down before, or ever will again. That’s the crazy thing about this life stuff: no one truly knows, but something about that can be really comforting if you let it.
Personally, I’m working on acceptance. As July arrives tomorrow, I plan to spend my birthday month shedding the things that are bogging me down, and holding onto the things that make me who I am: sweet moments with friends, trying new recipes, moving my body as much as feels good, exploring art, and getting cozy with my tears that have been building up over this past year. I’m not saying I won’t feel grief this month, I’m saying I’ll leave the windows open to let it breeze in and out as it needs to.
Now, to round out this sappy newsletter about birthdays —
I previously mentioned I’ve been on a bit of a health kick, #thriving. With that comes new creative ways to feed myself, and I may have discovered my favorite breakfast meal prep situation… at least for now. It’s so easy and truly impossible to mess up. Behold, your dream Banana Bread Protein Oatmeal Bake. This recipe makes about 5-6 servings, so it could get you through most of your week!
I’ll sign off here, and leave the recipe below for all of you that asked for it. Thanks for reading or listening to a whole lot of Not Complaining.
Until next time,
C
BANANA BREAD PROTEIN OATMEAL RECIPE:
Preheat oven to 350 F
Combine the following in a large bowl:
1 3/4 cup rolled oats
1 1/2 cup almond milk (can substitute any milk or yogurt if you want more healthy fat)
2 mashed bananas
1 scoop protein powder (I use chocolate pea protein but any type works)
2 tsp baking powder
Small handful of chocolate chips ;)
Sprinkle of cinnamon, sea salt, vanilla extract
Mix thoroughly
Spread into a pie dish, cast iron, or baking dish
Top with slivered almonds and another sliced banana
Bake for 30-35 minutes, until the top has hardened to the touch
Let it cool, serve with your favorite nut butter drizzle
🥹🥹🥹