Still fighting, still resisting: February 27, 2019

Dear Mr. VP,

I know. It’s been awhile.

Let’s say I’ve been in the weeds, and when I looked at my days and where my limited mental energy was being expended, writing to an old white dude who likely hates me because of my identity didn’t make the “must do” list.

So I sat back and thought, take a break, collect yourself, and re-envision this project.

I thought about just ghosting you altogether, but my experiences with online dating and ghosting make it clear that’s not the cool thing to do. We’ve hung out for long enough that you would deserve a goodbye and an explanation. (It’s not me, it’s definitely you.)

I thought about ditching the project completely (with an explanation letter to you) but that didn’t seem right either. This was my baby for a long time, and you don’t just abandon your baby (despite what you might think wacky progressive women want to be able to do).

Frankly, I’ve found that not writing doesn’t seem to be helping my anxiety at all. In fact, it’s been at an all-time high in the past month, and I wonder if having this place to let out a primal scream about what’s wrong in the world might be a good coping mechanism. Maybe lecturing you means I can settle more comfortably into my real relationships with all the people around me, something I’ve been finding difficult lately.

So where does that leave us? I think that leaves us with less frequent, but perhaps longer and more well researched, posts. I don’t have the time to put together a well written and well argued letter every day. You’ve heard all the reasons why before, so I won’t reiterate here other than to say when I’m having a dance party with my kid before bed, I want to be focused on that, not on what I’m going to write to you after he goes to sleep. I do, however, feel like without pressure to do it every day, I could do some good work.

It’s always been hard for me not to get things perfect. I like to do things 100% all the time, and so if I feel like I’m failing, I anxiously quit whatever it is. (See: basketball in elementary school, knitting, any number of abandoned writing projects.) But here, I’m going to give myself some grace, and reimagine what this space could be.

Still fighting, still resisting,


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