Well, Reader.

​

Lately, professionally speaking, I have sucked. Dyson Supersonic Hairdryer level of suck.

​

The last email I sent you was six weeks ago. Six weeks is the gestation period of a cat. In essence, domestic cats have been doing more work than I have.

​

(No hard feelings to the unsubscribes that come from this one because “who the hell is this chick again?”)

​

I was hit hard with lethargy, lots of “what is this all for?” glasses of wine, and self-imposed hangovers from the aforementioned glasses of wine.

​

But now I’m here, emailing you. And I know this is gonna sound dramatic, but I ain’t shittin ya on why.

​

There was one thing that inspired this email (and hopefully a new wave of momentum):

​

I wrote.

​

Literally 1 hour ago. I opened a clean google doc and wrote like it was my diary. I dated it and wrote “Dear Diary” and everything.

​

It was hard and awkward at first. I was convinced that I had lost the will and talent to write and was going to need to cancel my Namecheap domain asap.

​

But then … I just kept writing. Forced myself to, actually.

​

I complained about the weather.

I was cranky at the $800 vet bill that followed a sudden GI infection in my sweet 13-year-old Golden Retriever this week (which, if you’ll fucking believe it, followed a $2,500 emergency tooth extraction four literal weeks ago).

I cursed my slowing metabolism.

I admitted how insecure I am about where I am in life.

I considered an eyebrow piercing.

​

And — right now — I feel … good.

​

Not in an “everything is fixed!” kind of way, but in an “oh yeah, there’s a little spark there and maybe not everything sucks” kind of way.

​

Now, I’m not gonna make any big proclamations to you. I’m not gonna spill blood that I'll write to you every single week from here until I die. Those promises always go south anyway (RIP to every. single. new year resolution to finally “be less of an asshole to my partner during my period”).

​

Instead, I’m just popping in with a little human realness —

​

Life can really suck.

The universe can be a bitch.

Money can be tight.

Motivation can be impossible to reclaim.

Expectations can need to be drastically lowered.

​

And, if you’re feeling any of that, too … I think it’s normal, and okay. I want to give you permission to feel it, to sulk in it, and to not feel guilty about it.

​

I’m also going to give you one piece of advice that you’re going to hate … but will love me for once you do it.

​

Set your timer for 30 minutes. Write to your diary.

​

It never has to see the light of day. It doesn’t have to be put together. It doesn’t have to sound nice. You can delete it right after.

​

Just be honest and let some stuff out with no expectations to feel better.

​

But ... I bet you’ll feel better.

​

I’m signing off now. See you next Monday. Or maybe not.

​

Kelsey