There's a Japanese term for the spiritually cleansing act of walking in the woods, or "tree bathing" (shinrin-yoku).
There's a Danish word for the coziness of holding a mug of hot tea by a wood stove while you watch big fluffy snowflakes slowly float to the ground outside (hygge).
Is there a word in any language for the icky vulnerability hangover that comes from turning yourself inside out on the internet?
Anyways, I posted this on my Instagram yesterday and thought I should share it here as well:
I wasn’t planning to post but I’m a.) motivated by recent conversations about how everyone being more vulnerable/posturing less/getting real about their shit like the guys on Queer Eye is going to change the world (if you watch YOU GET IT) and b.) feeling like I should explain this terrifying wound I’ll be rocking for the next couple months.
A year ago they found a lump in my neck. Then there were a bunch of inconclusive scans and tests, so a couple weeks ago they removed the lump along with half my thyroid — and now they’re 100% certain I *don’t* have cancer.
This was planned for a while and I’m obviously grateful for the diagnosis. But holy shit, I got rocked by surgery. I’d been moving so fast over the last year that it took a hospital stay and week of rest for me to finally process the fear and stress of the year-long ordeal. I’ve been exhausted and scared and sore and fragile. I’ve been thinking about how privileged I am to have my health. I’ve been thinking about modern medicine, how I’m at once grateful for it and traumatized by it. I’ve been thinking about how privileged I am to have a strong support system and okay health insurance.
I didn’t know how much time I would need to heal and now I’m behind on every part of my life. But naming my little business was a mandate to myself: be tough and be tender. I’m trying to be kinder to myself. I’m trying to work hard and move forward but combat the messages I’ve received all my life that my worth is based on productivity. This experience has me doubling down on that commitment. I allowed myself to be weak for a minute, and I’m more sane for it.
Now I’m back in my studio, feeling fierce, and catching up on emails and production. Thank you all for your patience.
All my love to those dealing with health things. My diagnosis could have gone the other way and I would have been on a much longer road. I don’t know how I would have summoned the mental and emotional fortitude to keep living a normal life with that going on in the background, but you’re out there doing it everyday and you’re stronger and fiercer than I can even begin to imagine. ❤️