It's as bad as you think... and that's good news.

The advice that's helping me stay focused, purposeful, and connected through hard times. Plus all my January reads (including the one that may be my new GOAT).

I found myself at the end of January, padding about the kitchen in a pair of sweatpants I’d been living in for 48 hours, the front steps to our home a block of impenetrable ice (not that I was planning to go outdoors), making coffee (my only real form of control in life), and pondering how to have regular conversation with my children, while processing the news that my dear friend with cancer is quickly declining, “Civil War” is trending on social, and innocent people are being executed in the streets of Minneapolis.

BE NORMAL, I told myself, a laughable ambition. And yet, aren’t we all feeling the same pressure? To carry on? To maintain productivity? To function as if these were “normal” times?

I’m sitting on several Substack drafts at the moment, always a calamity or tragedy intervening before I click “Publish.” Because what can I possibly say about learning, writing, or being a human that anyone needs to read right now? I’m just a lady in sweatpants trying to find the motivation to put in my contact lenses.

There is a counterargument to be made, of course. While sensitivity and awareness are noble pursuits, if every writer waited for world peace to share their words, we’d never have anything to read, let alone entertain us or help us make sense of the times we’re living through. Put that way, the conundrum we’re in is really no different from any other moment in history:

Amidst the noise, we must make art. We must protect our creativity.

My morning meditative reading this month is Meditation for Mortals: Four Weeks to Embrace Your Limitations and Make Time for What Counts, and in it, author Oliver Burkeman issues a permission slip for those of us whose minds are going berserk at the moment, trying to optimize for productivity as we digest more information and competing demands than ever before.

The book is organized into short daily chapters, each a “meditation” aimed at helping the reader become focused, realistic, and satisfied in how they spend their time.

As someone who feels notoriously disappointed by my own output, this book has been a gift in reframing my expectations. Burkeman reminds us that, YES, everything is as terrible as it seems. It’s not our imaginations. We’re not falling behind. The load is simply too heavy, and it’s a burden we have to learn to put down.

I find the pressures overwhelming on a good day: keep a clean, beautiful house, be consistently available as a mom, shine at work, maintain a fruitful creative life, exercise and eat healthy, prioritize my spouse. Meditate. Floss. Post on social media, etc, etc, etc. On a good day, I accomplish two of those things. On a great day, maybe three?

But when I take into account all the suffering we’re witnessing, it feels doubly overwhelming. How do I do all that AND make a meaningful difference in the lives of others?

Burkeman says you can’t. At least not every day. And when we fail to give ourselves credit for doing what we can when we can, we set ourselves up for perpetual letdown. We allow our self-worth to be dictated by our ability to optimize in impossible circumstances.

I could write a short Substack about each of the book’s daily meditations, but instead, I encourage you to read it yourself. I will leave you with one salient idea, however, and that’s how to choose our life tasks.

If, like me, you spin out from time to time, guilty that you’re not protesting in the streets of Minneapolis, volunteering at a local shelter, or campaigning for your local representatives, Burkeman invites us to reflect on our true life tasks:

1. What life is calling you to do.

2. What you can do.

I can’t be in Minnesota, but I could be in Boston last weekend, making soup for my friend, taking her children to the trampoline park, and helping her prepare for the end of her life.

I can’t serve every child who needs a great teacher, but I can help a few learn to love writing.

I can’t run for office, but I can instill integrity and kindness in my own children every night at the dinner table.

Our true life tasks are not lofty ambitions that require advanced degrees or capital investments. They’re right there in front of us, and they’re within our ability to execute.

We just have to start.

I finished 7 books last month, which was a huge accomplishment for me (one I chalk up to being very behind in television; though, don’t worry, I’m all caught up on the Heated Rivalry front).

These Summer Storms by Sarah MacLean: sexy, beachy, inheritance story

We Have Always Lived in the Castle by Shirley Jackson: classic horror

Finding Grace by Loretta Rothschild: griefy, compulsive, Sliding Doors-esque

Nancy Drew: The Hidden Staircase by Carolyn Keene: fun mom/daughter read

Siddhartha by Herman Hesse: hero’s journey / how-the-heck-to-do-life read

Best Offer Wins by Marisa Kashino: suspenseful, D.C. real estate thriller

As you see from the list above, I was in a bit of Gothic mindset last month. But my favorite read — the one that has been elevated to GOAT status — is Rebecca by Daphne DuMaurier. Classic 1938 mystery involving a young bride, a sprawling English manor, and an ever-present ghost in the form of the dead Mrs. DeWinter. I combo listened/read this one and have to recommend the audiobook version on Spotify. Thanks to its brilliant narration, I now walk around using a British accent, spookily narrating our life at home.

Quick New Year’s Check-in: How are those resolutions going? Terrible? If so, don’t worry. Just read Meditations for Mortals, and you’ll find a manageable way forward. I didn’t set any resolutions this year besides trying to be nicer to myself in my brain, and actually, it’s going NOT BAD. Because I’m not being self-deprecating internally, I’ve stopped being as self-deprecating externally, and, as a result, I’m standing a little taller these days.

Channeling my inner Martha Stewart: You want a quick dopamine boost? Check out the Martha documentary on Netflix. She’s unapologetically ambitious and a complete straight-shooter, and I love her for it. As I stare out at my snowy tundra of a yard, I’m currently educating myself on climbing plants to transform a trellis this spring. Should I go with wisteria? Bougainvillea? Or something else? Is there a plant I can’t screw up?? Tell me!