Lately everything has been coming in waves. I suppose it always has, really. One minute I’m floating and the next I’m coughing up salt water on the bathroom floor.
I try to come back into my body, to be present. I do yoga. Go on walks. Hold my hands under ice water until they’re red. My problem has always been that I exist too much in my head, and I don’t really know how to get out.
It begins like a tide. A gentle tugging I can almost ignore, until I can’t. There’s really no choice but to follow. To wade in. It’s up to my ankles, then my knees. Sand falls away from my heels, sucks me in. I can still breathe, tell myself I can still turn around if I want to. It’s not too late. But the tide is stronger than I am, and I’ve never been one to deny the moon what she wants.
It happens in the bookstore, the grocery store, the parking lot. Safe places. Normal places. Places where I try to pretend I am just like everybody else. I place honeycrisp apples in my basket and wonder what happens to the ones with bruises. I hope somebody picks them. I hope somebody takes them home. I feel guilty for not being that somebody. Five minutes into the produce section and I am already failing.
Today the bookstore makes me feel like an exposed nerve. There are too many people, too much electricity confined in one space. Spine after spine blurs together in my brain, goes watery. Everyone is talking and laughing and I know it’s not at me. It’s not at me. It’s not at me. There is fresh air in my lungs but salt water burning at the corners of my eyelids. Quick blinking. Quick walking. The tide is coming soon, and I have never been a very fast swimmer.
On Thursday I spend the morning coughing salt water into the life raft of my bedsheets. It takes four hours to get it all out. I tell myself I am allowed to stay in bed as long as I keep the blinds up, let the sunlight in. When my lungs are clear and I’ve wrung out the sheets, I leave to get a haircut. Just a little off the ends. Just the dead, unsightly bits. You can make the outside shiny enough to trick anyone with just a little trim. It looks healthier now, doesn’t it?
I take a poetry workshop where the prompt is to write about the body. But don’t they understand I still can’t get out of my head? I get down three bullet points before my pen lifts from the page, breaking the cardinal rule of no stopping. I cannot write about my body and I cannot write about the only thing I want to write about so I do not write at all. I eat two bites of chocolate ice cream from the orange ceramic dish. My cat whines when I won’t let him lick the spoon. I move the dish, pat his head. Apologize for trying to keep him safe.
It’s time to stop swimming against the current but I don’t know how to unclench my fists, how to let it flow through me. I know only crescent moons on palms, only tension. There are beautiful things in the ocean, too. Glimmers of sunlight on the horizon. But this constant cycle of drowning and undrowning is a difficult one to break, and my legs and lungs are so tired. I just want to go home, but I’m not sure which direction to swim.
My bed is an island. My blankets a weight to keep me close to shore. I wake two hours before I need to and the feeling floods me like a tap I can’t turn off. I try not to wake my cat who lies unaware at the foot of my bed. Even turning to my right is a reminder of amber leaves, of everything. I think I’d like to cancel today, pull the covers up over my head and go back. I know I will start to get tired again right before my alarm ticks. Just once I would like to get what I want when I want it.
Thanks for reading this edition of To Be Tender. Keep scrolling for this edition’s library tour, spilled ink, on loop, on screen, and little joys.
Undrowned: Black Feminist Lessons from Marine Mammals by Alexis Pauline Gumbs — I was in a yoga class recently where the instructor read a few excerpts from this book that brought me to tears and I knew I had to buy it immediately. It’s a collection of creative non-fiction essays on marine mammals through a social justice lens and it’s absolutely incredible.
Please Stop Trying to Leave Me by Alana Saab — A debut novel (out June 2024) about a writer struggling with mental health issues under the crushing weight of capitalism and the age of social media. The writing is very stream of consciousness style and reminds me a lot of Interesting Facts About Space by Emily Austin.
“All My Love” by Noah Kahan
“She Calls Me Back” by Noah Kahan feat. Kacey Musgraves
“doomsday” by Lizzy McAlpine
“We’re All Gonna Die” by Joy Oladokun feat. Noah Kahan
“Love You For A Long Time” by Maggie Rogers
Heartbreak High season 2 (Netflix) — An Australian high school drama with a beautifully diverse cast and great writing. I loved the first season so much and I’ve been eagerly awaiting season two that just came out last week.
Everything’s Gonna Be Okay (Hulu) — A comedy series that follows an eccentric entomologist as he becomes the legal guardian of his two half-sisters after the sudden death of their father. It’s a hilarious and often incredibly heartfelt show that is, in my opinion, criminally underrated.
I actually wrote an entire piece recently (that I’m hoping to post later this month) on how both of these shows have the best autistic representation I’ve ever seen on screen. They both star autistic characters played by autistic actors and are definitely worth watching.
Astrology & flow yoga — An astrology-based yoga class I’ve been taking pretty regularly lately that I love love love.
Escapril — A poetry challenge that takes places during the month of April to celebrate national poetry month where you write a poem a day based on a daily prompt. I’m often a big mood writer so I tend to find prompts a little difficult, but it’s been nice to change it up and challenge myself in this way. I’ve actually ended up with some poems I really love and hope to share some of them soon.
If anything from this edition of To Be Tender resonated with you, let me know in the comments! I’d love to hear your thoughts.
As always, you can find me rambling about books over on Instagram @catherineslibrary
See you next month, sweet friends <3
The imagery……. Are you kidding? This was so wonderfully moving, and very felt.
Also love the new format!!!
LOVED the life raft of bedsheets quote. i just recently subscribed and im already so happy i did!! u also included my favorite mary oliver poem! so cute