Hello, friends.
I’ve wanted to write to you for the last six months, but I’ve been learning my new full-time banking job, counting grams of protein, trying to navigate the spring semester of my oldest child’s senior year, and wondering how the America of my youth (though imperfect, though viewed through the youngest, most idealistic eyes) has come to be this America. It’s a lot, and I know I’m not alone.
It also happens there are one thousand extra tasks associated with high school graduation, many of which happen to be emotional torpedos (e.g. make an 11x14” collage of his childhood photos to display after the senior ball, because sifting through photos of your senior as a smiling toddler is a cool idea for the perimenopausal among us).
I’m behind on practically all fronts. I used to have pristine email inboxes. All my bills were paid early. I texted people back. Not in 2025. My life is now summed up in the phrase: “Wait, that’s today?” Using the ubiquitous metaphor for busy moms: I don’t choose which balls to keep in the air. They fall from the sky to the ground without interruption. I find them a week later.
But it’s okay. It’s busy because it’s full—of newness, growth, love, change, promise. And it’s precious, a gift that leaves me grateful and joyful and desperate at least once a day, exhaling a prayer: please, please freeze time, so I can give this moment its due, please wait so I can love this moment as much as it deserves because I am the luckiest to be here right now.
In 2018, I felt we were on the edge of change but my view was colored with a single hue: the flat gray of loss. And now, seven years later, I look forward to another season of change and see a kaleidoscope: loss, yes, because I have loved this season of our family. But it’s not over—it’s transforming. And there will be the greens of new growth and the blue of new skies, the yellow-orange of surprise and the blush of new loves. I even see more time and space to write, which will be to revive a part of me that’s in hibernation as I attend to the things that don’t keep, as much as I wish they would.
So in the spirit of adaptation, this newsletter (which may, in 2025, be a quarterly missive) is about small adjustments. Instead of all or nothing, I’m going to share what’s working (⬆️) and what’s not (⬇️) in the hope of embracing what is instead of pushing for what I think should be. A little more there, a little less there, and we move ourselves into grace.
I love writing to you, friends. Thank you for reading.
⬆️ Reading: I’m finding that, more than ever, I need to read. It resets my brain and makes me feel a little less like a task monkey. I told my therapist that working from home in a corporate job is revealing my workaholic tendencies. She was, weirdly, not surprised by this. I also told her I tend to live my life as if I’m in a race to nowhere against myself. I explained that no one seems to win. Her response: “No, in fact, I can think of several losers in that scenario.” (She gets me.)
🚫 THE CARTOGRAPHERS
I thought I’d love this one, but I quit at page 126. For some reason, I didn’t care—about the characters or the story. And so I went on Goodreads to read spoilers. Goodreads reviewers are hilarious and also vicious which is why I must stay away from reviews about my book. Some people really, really didn’t care for Everyone But Myself by Julie Chavez and that’s why I leave them to it.
🚫 THE BORROWED LIFE OF FREDERICK FIFE
I have many, many reading friends who loved this book. It was mid for me and it did not give me the good feelings.
↔️ CARELESS PEOPLE
I listened to this one very quickly. I’ll put it in the neutral category, because it felt like a very long article about the darker sides of social media. I did find it interesting that Meta went to such lengths to stop the publicity (the author wasn’t allowed to publicize it herself).
⭐️ EVERYTHING IS TUBERCULOSIS
I listened to this one, narrated by John Green. This is a short, valuable, well-written book that addresses not just tuberculosis, but the intersection of epidemiology and social justice.
❤️ WE ALL LIVE HERE
LOVED this one, and it cemented Jojo as one of my go-to authors. This sort of upmarket fiction is good for my heart.
❤️ A RESISTANCE OF WITCHES
If you like witchy vibes and historical fiction then saddle up. This book was the first of the year where I wanted to stay up late and read it. It’s out on July 15 but add this one to your list (and I’m hoping to have a giveaway because I enjoyed it so much)!
What I’m reading now: First-Time Caller, A Sea of Unspoken Things, and Broken Country (on audio). I’m loving all three so looking forward to reporting on those.
⬇️ My mom loves Clean People and I swear it works very well at her house. But we started using it here and I turned into a paranoid bloodhound, walking around taking dramatic huffs of our clothing. Some of our Dri-fit items smelled like death and I CANNOT LIVE THIS WAY. It’s probably our water. I won’t stray again, Charlie.
⬆️ In to save the day: this de-stink method (aka stripping laundry), which we call The Bucket of Shame (you don’t have to use a bucket but sometimes I don’t have enough offending items to justify filling up the whole tub). This was sourced from my yoga friend Shanna and it’s been in regular rotation lately, especially since we discovered that Clean People had betrayed us. I have a big stainless steel spoon that I use to stir the laundry. My next step will be to invest in a washboard which (bonus) I can use as an instrument during Mando’s conference calls!
Bucket of Shame Recipe
1/4 cup borax
1/4 cup Arm & Hammer washing soda
1/4 cup Calgon (I omit this, but maybe it adds to the relaxation?)
1 generous scoop of Tide (I sub my Saalt Lavender wash or Charlie’s Soap)
Fill your bathtub up with HOT HOT HOT WATER and add the offending clothes (this is where the spoon is necessary for stirring). Add in the detergent mix and stir the clothes every hour for 4-6 hours. Drain and wash in a regular wash cycle in your machine.
⬇️ Social Media: Listening to Careless People confirmed a lot of what I knew to be true about social media (and specifically, Meta). I’m struggling: I love the community and have made some very real connections on Instagram, but I hate the algorithm and I especially hate the pressure I feel to use it or lose it (because the Almighty Algorithm rewards engagement, Reels, and constancy). Deliberate account curation isn’t in the cards for this season, but perhaps not every aspect of my life requires a ruthlessly planned approach and iron discipline. Maybe I can just watch the funny content my kids serve up for a while.
⬆️ ⬆️ ⬆️ Gratitude: because sometimes you know your good days when you’re in them.
Julie, so much of what you wrote is so very relatable - clearly, since you published this April 30th, and I'm just reading it today, May 21st. Absolutely love this phrase: "... in the hope of embracing what is instead of pushing for what I think should be." Wow. Thank you for putting this feeling into words.
So I started We All Live Here and was having a hard time getting into it, but on your recommendation, I’ll give it another shot! I have read her before and really enjoyed her work, so it might be me!🤷🏻♀️