a note from faraway inside

I feel strong today, which is a relief. For some time now, I’ve been pretty burnt out. I could blame it on end of year fatigue, on how generally exhausting everything feels at the moment. But that’s not true if I’ve been tired for months (years?) now in a way that is unsustainable, is it? So, I’ve had to make some changes.

In August, when my dear friend D. asked me to say how I was honestly, I chose to respond with the full answer: an international tour for my sophomore novel was a delicious dream (because what???!!!?). In its afterglow, I was happy and anxious and delighted by all the answered prayers I was now living in; blazingly proud of myself for giving publication my best and my nerves were frayed. I felt like I was dropping the ball in some crucial areas of my life while succeeding wildly in others. I launched a book I love into an eager world while dealing with extreme and unrelenting family-related grief. The latter is still and always hard to talk about, even with people I’m closest to. How many times can one describe a horror show that keeps getting worse? Do I even want to? Not really. Yes, I was staying on top of my calendar regardless — because that is what I do — and still high off the many pleasures I got to experience in every city I touched. There is nothing like meeting my readers in person. I’d do it again and again and again. Even bigger. Even harder. No regrets. Yes. And when I got back home from all that movement, I found all I’d stowed away for later waiting for me (of course). I was keeping an expensive serene face on even though I often felt like I was just one tiny inconvenience away from a long scream. It was starting to cost me more than I could afford. There was still that same sadrage simmering under my skin from how much loss I’d still have to wrap my head around; all these suspended stressors seemed to be coming at me without mercy. I didn’t blame them, but… ah, could they pause for a sec? Again, Necessary Fiction being safely out in the world was such a relief, but that also came with the husked-out feeling of separation I sometimes get when a world I’ve been holding close is now out of my hands. Um, what else? My new life was veritably gorgeous and demanding and yes, the life I left behind was still in what looked like irredeemable shambles. I was still grinding hard in response to my worries about life admin: bills, security, stability, balance; worried all the ways I was escaping, worried about how much I worry, tired to the bone, exhausted, sometimes afraid to wake up because a new morning meant another to do list, flaking a lot on people I love because the thought of leaving the house or being seen could sometimes make me want to break into a sobbing fit. I told her about the decision fatigue, about what the estrangement randomly does to my blood pressure, about the memories that kept trying to haunt me at night, about how that was fucking up my sleep, about the bloody annoying brain fog and how hard it feels on bad days to hold on to a train of thought—

until I couldn’t type anymore.

She read my words, validated them, reminded me that anyone would be tired juggling all those factors at once, and then told me with such deep love that I’d have to first name what I was experiencing — burnout — and take it seriously because I was now officially at the point where in saner climes, I’d have been asked to stop working for at least a year, in order to rest and recover. She also blew my brain open with a concept that serves as the thermometer I use to ascertain my own wellness on a daily and sometimes hourly basis: “you need to stop, your check engine light is on.” As someone who loves to drive and has an intense relationship with my car, I knew what that meant. She was right. So: is my check engine light on right now? has become my question. Sometimes it still is, so I know to be careful. On days when my answer to that is a clear yes, I’m cancelling everything.

After the conversation, I realized/remembered/re-experienced something else: I’m not good at resting. I’ve been trying for months now, by taking as much off my plate as I can. Recovery fluctuates and I guess that’s okay. Today is a better day than the entirety of last week for instance where I was scared out of my mind that something I’d been dreading for years had finally happened to someone I loved. When I confirmed at the end of the week that that wasn’t the case, even the relief was heavy. I had a wild panic attack that my love talked me out of, and then entered a numb shell I’m still crawling out of. I hadn’t experienced one in at least a year.

Where I am now, is in recovery. To be honest with you, most days, I just can’t give a damn. I don’t know what to say to anyone, I don’t know how to be there, how to catch up, how to do more than take care of my body’s needs and while it feels like failing, the truth is what it is: I don’t know and I can’t. Part of why I kept trying to hold it all was out of fear of what or who I’d lose if I didn’t keep ‘showing up.’ But if I don’t have myself at the end of all that performance, what’s the point? So, for now, I’m at bare minimum with every single thing and okay with that. I don’t know who or what will be left by the time I recover my capacity but this is something I just have to accept for now. I want me more than I want the grind. I want me more than I want to look helpful and consistent. I want to sustain me because I’m the one who has to live in my skin.

In many ways, this has been a year of delights, of new ground, of yeses. Today, I spent some time looking back on the year, and can’t believe how many miracles have happened. What a life. I am grateful (for my person, my people, my community, my work, my home, my readers who have lifted beyond my wildest imaginations). I’m happy. I’m assured. I’m taking it easy. All in all, I am here. Just here. One deep breath at a time.

Here are some quotes I’ve been thinking about recently:

• this one from Miranda July’s newsletter:

“When I’m trying to decide if I’ve done right or wrong, if my pain is healthy or headed for depression, if I’m a useless person for not doing the work I said I would, etc — I think: I don’t know. I don’t know right now. Instead of arguing with myself or convincing myself of my goodness or trying to guide myself back to the healthy path I just float in the strangely sturdy feeling of really having no idea. Built into this is the sense that answers will come, the knot will be untied, but not with effort on my part. Instead through more and more of this “I don’t knowing” which feels like floating on my back, being held up by something other than my own muscling.”

• This image below contains words written by Yumi Sakugawa whose words have been an anchor. I shared it on Instagram to remind myself. Many people felt they could relate too, so I’m sharing here as well.

  

• This one line from Dave’s new album, which I loved:

  “I just pray that my purpose can justify my pain. I just pray that my purpose can justify my pain.”

Listen to the album.

• From my brother a year ago:

  “More importantly, you need to be well. If you’re not well, you cannot help. And we need you around. All of us who love you, need you around.”

• A sentence I loved from the Aaron Pierre profile for Men’s Health magazine:

  “Pierre often says that his main criterion for success is earning his own respect.”

• I enjoyed watching this:

• & this:

• “Somehow through my relationship and my deep love for my fans I really accepted that I can do it all as long as I am the one who is creating the storm instead of the one just standing in the center of it. So instead of being haunted by the birds I will become one of them. And I’ll be fine. Because it’s my dream and no one else’s. I’ll decide for myself how this ends.”

— Lady Gaga for Rolling Stone Cover Story

• Justin Beiber’s ‘Everything Hallelujah’ feels to me like being sleepy on a cloud. I could listen to it daily, and I have been. Find it if you haven’t already.

• This line from Jeannette Winterson’s most recent newsletter:

“Let’s put it like this.

I can change the story because I am the story.”

I hope all is well wherever you are in the world, in your mind, or body.

Remember to take care. And please send me fun recommendations if you have any for me.

With love and truth,

Eloghosa xxx