The Truth Looks Good On You

It’s been a while since I’ve written to you. But it’s been a while since I felt brave enough to write at all. What could I say to bring any sense or meaning to a year like 2020? We’ve been in this Covid cloud for almost a year now, and yet if you asked me what 2020 has been like, I wouldn’t know what to say. ‘It’s been hard? It’s been strange? It’s been, what?’ I don’t really know what 2020 has been. There are too many things to talk about. Too much pain, and confusion, and fear, and banana bread, too much Tik Tok, and politicism, and those are on the lighter side of this years mentionables. 

 I’m just finishing this book a friend recommended to me. In the book the author talks about finding your voice as a writer and the importance of writing as if no one is looking over your shoulder. You have to write from truth, even if you write fiction. If your aim for your reader is as mine is, that you would feel understood, then you must delve into the doors inside you that are dusty and filled with junk. You have to give up the notion that perfection is ever worth striving for. You have to look for truth. I don’t think this practice should be reserved for writers; I think that this is the practice of life. Even in a year like 2020, when most things, if not all things feel hard, truth is worth opening our eyes to. 

The truth is, I’ve found myself avoiding TV shows and books that directly address 2020. I’m living it, and a lot of times that feels like enough. I binge New Girl on the projector screen in my loft style, LA apartment and convince myself that I’m the Nick of my own life and that I really am happy being a bartender. I watch all the love stories work out, and the plot lines develop, and it gives me a temporary sense of okayness. I watch the Great British Bake Off and imagine myself whipping up all sorts of confections. I giggle at the cheeky British humor and close my eyes to picture myself galivanting through London. But, watching Kevin from This is Us stand in front of his sister in a mask like ten feet away, well, that doesn’t make me imagine anything. It really just makes me anxious. 

The truth is, that I don’t want to be a bartender forever, and not having a “career path” at twenty-seven is one of my greatest embarrassments. The truth is, that I’m no great baker. I made a Starbucks Cranberry Bliss Bar copycat recipe last night and it was truly disgusting. The truth is that I really only made that recipe so I could post it on my Instagram and do the whole, “Look at me, I’m domestic and stuff” thing, but the five pounds of overbaked, cream cheese covered mess in my fridge is definitely having the last laugh. The truth is, that I don’t like facing a world where pregnancy announcements are shouted at a distance and hugs are strictly off limits. The world of the truth feels really hard right now. Really out of our control. 

After four years away I finally live in the same city as my family and I think I’ve seen them three times. I live ten miles from some of the people I love most and yet every interaction is masked, and spaced, and heavy with doses of apprehension. I really don’t care how you feel about vaccines, and masking up, and the politics traced through it all. Let’s leave that for somewhere else. But can we all just agree that this year has been a whirlwind?

You know that movie, Click, the one with Adam Sandler. I love that movie. I cry every time I watch it. There’s this scene with Christopher Walken where they play this sped up video montage of the main characters life. The montage is projected onto a spherical screen that the characters stand inside of. It’s like a dizzying slideshow of lots of little moments pieced together. Everything’s spinning and it’s difficult to perceive if time has passed at all. It’s this picture of a whirlwind of time. 2020 feels like that. I think that’s what makes it so hard to talk about. Too much has happened this year. It feels like we’ve lived in Covid land for a lifetime and yet somehow, I can’t even remember what happened. 

It’s just, a lot. A lot of us have lost jobs, and been furloughed, and watched careers that seemed stable become very out of reach. A lot of us have gotten sick, and been scared, and wondered if things would ever again feel, “normal” again. A lot of us have been rocked by realizations that the race issue is a very present problem. Heroes have been laid to rest. We’ve watched a county that always seemed clean cut, and poised seem ugly, and hateful, and anything but polished. The homeostasis of our lives, our country, and our semblance of normalcy have been effectively shattered. So, no wonder we’re so ready to see 2020 go. 

But the truth is, although 2020 has left so much disillusionment in its wake, I think it’s done us just as many favors. 2020 has been a whirlwind and scientists say thirty years from now we’ll scarcely remember it, but 2020 is like global group therapy. It’s like a mass bought of suffering, in so many different forms. It’s a crisis. It’s awoken us to our true selves, and our fears, and the patches we sew on the ripped jeans of our lives. There may be a cute flower patch there now, but there was once a gaping hole. A hole that revealed the thigh we’ve neglected to shave for the winter. 

My hairy thigh jean hole was my future. I act confident and self-assured, and in a lot of ways I am, but what my hole revealed was fear. A fear that life wouldn’t be as fulfilling as I wanted it to be. A fear that people would realize that being a, “bartender and a writer,” wasn’t my properly chosen profession but just where I ended up. A fear that I would never accomplish anything of note. A fear that I would choose all of the wrong things. Not bad things, but just not the ‘best’ things. If you cut that flower patch off your jeans, and looked inside the hole to your hairy thigh, what would you see? What would be inside? 

Are you afraid of the future? Are you worried that you won’t find someone to love that loves you just as much? Are you fearful for your health? Are you worried that no one understands you? Are you afraid of your mind? I know sometimes I’ve been afraid of mine. Are you afraid you’re not good enough? Are you afraid you won’t be a good parent? Are you fearful for your finances? What are you afraid of? What’s inside your jean hole? 

You see, I think 2020 has been like a really hard breakup. We’ve had to breakup with all sorts of comforts, and normality, and it seems like our routines have been on a weekly schedule of change. We’ve lost, coped, and worried what the future may look like. But sometimes breakups are the best things that ever happen to you. They make you tired, and broken, and honest enough to see what was really there all along. You see yourself, you see other people, and you see your future so differently. Now there’s enough space for you to see who you are, and what you want, and where your time is most valued. 

We may have been beaten down but we’re not done yet. And the us that will rise from this year, will be real. We will be a version of ourselves so much truer than we even knew we could be. I think we’re gonna be braver. Brave enough to live with a freedom that urges us to choose courageously. 

I don’t know if I’m ready to watch Covid documentaries, and I’ll probably still entertain a British Bake Off or two. But what I know is, that I’m ready to be even more honest with myself, and with everyone else. I’m ready to face those fears that I’ve hidden behind big smiles, and good rhetoric. I’m ready to make moves in the direction of things I love, in place of just passionately ranting. 

It’s four days until Christmas, and I guess I could lament about just how different this year is. But you already know that. We already know that. This year is anything but normal. But that’s ok. We’re okay. And the scientists are right, we won’t even remember this soon.

 So, I guess, my hope for you as 2021 peaks over the horizon is that you would look inside the holes in your jeans. I hope you walk straight into the dusty rooms in your heart, and let this year do what it can. Let this time, where the world is paused and somehow even more chaotic give you space to see things inside you as they really are. Get honest with yourself, and a friend, or a therapist, or your journal and if it makes you anxious, take a long hot lavender bath. And when you’re done, take a deep breath, know that you’re loved, and hear me telling you that this you, this honest, anxious, fearful you has always been good enough. You weren’t good enough because you seemed ok, you have always been great! The truth that you have inside you, is the very best thing you can share with the world! It’s the very best thing you can share with yourself. It’s the very best thing we share with each other. The truth is, that whatever we find in the holes in our jeans, I know we’re brave enough to choose the truest picture of ourselves. I know that you’ll find a settled joy in your life. And I know that you’ll find relationships that feel like both home and growth. In the moments where we newly find ourselves alone, we’ll see the beauty of the space that’s been made. It’s a space we never expected, but I think it’s one we needed. 

So, wherever you are in the world, and however heavy your heart may feel right now. I hope you know someone is thinking of you. I hope you know how proud of you I am. And I hope you know that you’re doing so much better than you think. Keep getting back up and keep going. The truth really does look good on you. :)