Letter 112: Waking Up
When we honor all the versions of ourselves
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Welcome 2024!
And we’re back! It was such a lovely holiday break, full of slow days and many, many good books. While I was excited to rest and not publish for a few weeks, I couldn’t wait to get back to this space because we have some incredible letters set for 2024. Buckle up, readers, because these writers are a force!
When I first read today’s letter, from one of our newest contributors, Gretchen Radomski, I just sat back in my chair and held my breath. Her willingness to go there in her vulnerability feels like a sacred gift. I don’t take her bravery lightly and I imagine you will feel the same. A big, huge thank you to Beth for connecting me with Gretchen. This community continues to uplift and inspire me, illustrating consistently that “women that believe in each other can survive anything.” Thank you to Nikita Gill for those words, kicking 2024 off in the best way possible. —Molly
This morning, I woke up to frost on the roof tops. The sky is a pale blue. Dust motes float lazily through the bright sunlight filtering in through the large window of my bedroom. I am comfortable and warm and I don’t want to get out of bed, but there is a beautiful cup of black coffee for me if I’m willing to put my feet on the floor.
Waking up sober on a cold, crisp morning feels brand new. Almost everything feels new still. Almost a year ago, I took my last sip of alcohol. I might not be what most would call a “real drunk.” I never forgot how I arrived at places, or stole stuff to pay for my addiction, or got fired from a job, or ruined my marriage. I did use alcohol to survive my everyday life for the larger part of 20 years.
But, this letter is less about my sobriety, and more about the awakening that my sobriety is a catalyst to.
There are a myriad of reasons that I sought to numb out. I learned early that the way to survive was to mask up, and pretend that I wasn’t completely overwhelmed. I was compliant, I made myself fit in. I played the game so no one ever questioned me too closely. I lived this way well into my 30s.
It wasn’t one thing that shaped me into that mess — a family history of mental illness, the systemic misapplication of fundamentalist Christianity, the cultural vortex of growing up in the 1990s in southern Californian suburbia. Drinking was my escape hatch. It allowed me to numb out the awkward and uncomfortable feeling of living in a world I felt I didn’t fit in, no matter how hard I was pretending. It allowed me to numb out the feeling of obligation.
Oh, the tyranny of obligation.
I turned 41 this July, and I’m in what I’m calling “my awake era.” I often tell friends who check in on me, that I have never felt more like myself. I have never felt this much at home in my own skin. But being awake comes with hard recognition.
One of the tragedies of my life has been the compartmentalizing of myself. I kept separate all the true parts of myself in the false hope of protecting myself from hurt. I am working to release all the pieces of my identity from that silence. I am new, but it's not as though I have started over from scratch. I’m not a newborn baby, even if I feel like I’m relearning how to walk sometimes. Instead, it feels like I am synthesizing all those pieces into the truest version of myself.
This summer, I was fortunate enough to take my daughters, Margot (11) and June (8), to Taylor Swift’s Eras Tour. I found myself in my stadium seat overcome by such a weight of gratitude. As the song goes, “it was rare, I was there,” and I was fully awake for it. We sang our little hearts out that night with 70,000 other Swifties.
I have had time to process the gravity of that magical night. I keep thinking about how Taylor Swift appeals to so many of us because she is open and honest about all of the versions of herself. She acknowledges the pain and need; all the numbing and pretending that we’ve all done.
In acknowledging and honoring all those versions of herself, she becomes the synthesis of all of her eras. She gives us the permission to do the same. While I choose not to wear a mask anymore, I find it crucial to acknowledge and honor all of those versions of me:
the true versions that I hid, overly sensitive, overwhelmed and awkward,
the masked versions that feigned confidence, bending reality to be liked, but allowing me to survive,
the versions of me that fought harder than my true self ever felt capable of.
They were all still me. They are all still me. So, I raise my glass of sparkling water
to me, and all my versions;
to you, and all your versions.
Gretchen’s 5 Favorite Things
Barre3 Bend - Though I was never an athlete, I have learned how connected my emotional state is to my physical body. I started going to Barre3 Bend in 2017, and I’ve never looked back. Barre3 is a perfect balance of strength, cardio, and mindfulness, and my instructors are beautiful souls that encourage us with gems of wisdom like, “you were meant to take up space.” They have an online membership too if you don’t live close to one of the 185+ studios across the country.
Glossier You - I really love the warmth and slightly woodsy scent of Glossier’s You. It’s not meant to drown out your natural scent. And, It doesn’t smell too sweet, like many perfumes.
Sanbittèr - Sanbittèr is an Italian red bitter style soda that tastes a lot like Campari, or Aperol. I haven’t found them in any local stores, but I order them from online Italian markets like Supermarket Italy. They come in very cute 10 oz. glass bottles. I pour these over ice, add some seltzer water, a slice of orange, and ecco, a lovely non-alcoholic spritz.
Doc Martens 2976 Yellow Stitch Smooth Leather Chelsea Boots - One thing about 90s fashion being the go-to again is that all the trends that I wasn’t able to afford as a teen, I can absolutely indulge in as a grown up. I bought myself these cool white Doc Martens last winter, and I’m wearing them with everything this season.
1989 (Taylor’s Version) or, you know, any other Taylor Swift album. I’ve been listening as a true fan since 2013.
With gratitude,
Gretchen Radomski
P.S. When we prioritize ourselves and untangle ourselves. And, if you think you know someone who would appreciate Gretchen’s letter, please forward it along to them!
