Write Right Now: Looking Back, Looking Forward.

one last missive before the end of the year.

“Do you want to talk about your feelings?”

That was my friend Thea last night, a brilliant treasure close to my heart. Talking with her made me want to write to you, and so here I am with some words, finally.

She’d invited me for a mini-hang, at a cheese shop near our houses, while her girls attended art class. A best friend, AND cheese? No. Brainer.

Except I couldn’t get my body to take the actions: one foot in front of the other, brush the teeth, put on pants. It seemed almost impossible.

Eventually, I made it to the cheese shop. I enjoyed a ham sandwich and talked about my feelings.

I often feel like this, especially since September, as winter settles over Los Angeles. Almost everything feels heavier and harder than it used to, just a few months ago. I’m discouraged about a great many things personally, professionally, philosophically, politically, (or are all those that same thing?) If it is the winter blues, or signs of a deeper depression running through my veins, I am not sure. As I described to Thea over cheese, and as I explained it to Kalen the other day, and again to my therapist, there’s a gray area between a funk and a depression. It’s a fuzzy fine line, and I’m right on it. (Or in it, as the case may be.)

I think it’s part of the transition, this “cocoon phase” I’ve mentioned throughout the year. Road Trip 2024 was more momentous than I ever could have imagined. I am not the same, and understanding this change has taken the better part of 14 months. (And counting…)

I assumed that everything about my life and creative trajectory would remain the same after the Road Trip. I did not anticipate that the actions and events would morph everything inside of me, and leave me stranded in an abstract state of processing. Everything about me feels like that emoji of the shrugging woman. I don’t know! I don’t know next steps. I don’t know how to make a documentary without any money. I don’t know about the podcast. I don’t know how to describe this experience. If I am not who I was pre-road trip, I don’t know who I am now.

I do know that it feels hard to connect with friends. It feels hard to go to work, it feels hard to complete tasks. I know that I feel completely saturated and exhausted by the amount of emails in my inbox each day, and no matter how many times I “unsubscribe,” they seem to keep coming. Speaking of exhaustion and saturation: social media. It’s not real, it’s too much, it’s time to be done. Stop telling me that I can’t succeed without inauthentic connection in every single category of life that may or may not, but probably does, need an app. I no longer want to be defined by my content output. It all feels negative, my thoughts are grumpy and cynical, and not the kind of thing I dream of writing about: hey! this is what I hate, how about you? So I keep pushing back against the substack, feeling saturated by it’s own kind of pressure to participate.

Meanwhile, each day, I have thought about what I want, and considered writing it down. It started in May, with my running. It’s an exercise that used to inspire me greatly; I’ve found great clarity in listing. Sometimes I encourage my clients to do the same. Material things? Yes. Existential things? Sure. Political, Locational, Physical, Psychological? All of it, write it down. If it starts as a negative, “I don’t want to feel _______ anymore,” I turn it over until it’s something to strive FOR, instead of against: “I want to feel the opposite of previous feeling more often.” It’s been a long time since I’ve done it for myself.

It’s been a long time because I haven’t felt the need, there was clarity and I was taking action. I wanted to create a podcast. I wanted to write my DNA-discovery story. I wanted to be a part of a documentary, and I wanted to create the bulk of it on a road trip. I did it, I did it, I did it. Done and done.

so. much. running.

Meanwhile, I keep running in the mornings, and thinking about my list. What do I want. (to NOT feel like this…. “Ok, let’s turn that around.”) As the year-end approaches, time is of the essence. I wanted to write one more piece for you here, and this feels much better than writing about what I hate. So it’s a list + substack. A SubList. A ListStack. Anyway…

1. Learn to play the guitar

2. Sing again

3. Get my sewing machine up and running with confidence. Do the quilt. Do the appliqués (accent on that e?)

4. Write my book, find the right guidance

5. Make the documentary, even if it means I have to teach myself

6. Have a comfortable routine of writing and creating that fits seamlessly into my life. If I could do it with running, I can do it with writing.

7. Finish CAMFT certification process (this is a work thing, very boring, but about expanding my skills and career opportunities ... .yawn.)

8. Read more books

9. Feel joy

10. Dance

11. Bake bread more regularly from the book Siobhan sent me and enjoy eating it.

12. Another medicine Journey and continue that direction as a practitioner.

13. Feel content with what I have, what I wear.. (note: this started as “stop wanting clothes all the time.”)

14. Feel content and grateful with everything I have in my life, which is more than enough, in all the areas of my life.

15. Send all those thank you notes, which may be “hello” notes by now. Whatever.

16. Treasure my friendships.

17. Write a proposal for speaking engagements as a therapist. Make the deck. Prepare the speech.

18. Find opportunities that allow me to feel fun and free and authentic; acting? Improv? Voice? Pottery? Karaoke?

19. Buy 1 piece of special art.

20. Visit New Zealand (this is cheating because WE ALREADY HAVE OUR PLANE TICKETS.)

21. Accept myself for exactly who I am.

Are there more? Probably, but this also feels like an authentic place to stop. A lot of people bristle at the idea of New Year’s Resolutions, and I agree that ANY time is a good time to start over, set the clock, embrace baby steps. I won’t call them resolutions, and I don’t bristle at the opportunity to examine my life. Must I start on January 1, even if I still feel like I don’t want to get out of bed? Will I have failed if I don’t “DO” all twenty one items by December 2026? Not the way I do it, and I supposed that’s how they differ from traditional resolutions. I have a roll-over plan, nothing is restricted by the twelve months ahead of me. Anything can be added or removed from the list at any time.

How will you know, anyway, if I’m not posting about it on social media all the time? Maybe this is an opportunity to make your own list, and we’ll all be so busy exploring the present moment that none of will have time to post or check the FEEDS. (Who is feeding who, anyway?)

If the comments section can be a small place of connection that is different than traditional social medias, I’d love to know your own wants, whether it’s a literal list or not. We may learn and grow from each other, you probably have some good ideas, and maybe there’s something I want that you hadn’t considered. Lists can be fluid, and even if we’re not reporting on progress or lack thereof publicly all the time, I love the idea of having faith in one another regardless of geographical location.

Is writing for this substack on my list? Not exactly, but I’m not eliminating it as a source of creativity and connection. But I feel ready to release the obligation of creating content for relevancy that continues to move the goal posts anyway.

The funk is real, but so is hope. That’s what I’m doing here, for myself as much as for anyone else.

Thank you for reading. I am wishing you the best holiday season for you and yours, whatever that means for you.

Xo Eve