Not Your Average Gal

Copywriter. Content Creator. Constant Sassypants.

Musings

The Hard and Wonderful Things We’ve Learned This Year.

By

Flying out of 2021 and looking towards 2022.

Today is Thanksgiving. Well, not when you’re reading this. But, when I’m writing this. 

I’m sitting alone out on my back porch overlooking our tropical backyard. It’s pouring rain. The pitter patter of the water hitting our gutters offers me the type of soundtrack you often bought back in the day when The Nature Store existed. 

Remember that store? 

It was all about earth: its animals, nature and conservation. I bought a “Thunderstorms” CD back in the day. 7th grade to be exact. (Why the HELL do I remember that, but not what I had for breakfast this morning?) I bought it so I could concentrate while I studied.

Because, for me, studying and being a good student was of utmost importance then. 

So much so that I bought a freakin’ CD of nature sounds to help me study. At 13! 

But today the soundtrack is real-life rain, in my own backyard on the Big Island of Hawaii.

Wonder what that 13 year old girl would think of me today? Hope she’d be proud. Life is bizarre y’all. 

I’ve also been playing this particular song on repeat for the last couple weeks, but especially the last few days. 

In fact, it’s playing now while I write this amongst the pitter patter backdrop of rain.

I’ve been participating in NanoWriMo with the Write Like a Mofo crew this whole month of November. It’s basically where you sit down to write every day for 30 days and hopefully bang out a novel. The average novel is 50,000 words. So some people will set their word count for that. I’ve been writing my blogs, newsletters and new sales pages for Not Your Average Gal. This year I aimed for my word count to be 30,000 words. 

Currently I’m at 23,102 words.

(Spoiler Alert: I hit over 31,000 words.)

What we’ve found as a group, especially if you’re writing a memoir or long-form blogs, is that this whole process can be emotional and cathartic all at once. Writing is the best kind of bitch, you guys.

This particular song has hit a nerve with me especially after writing so much in the last few weeks.

This has been the hardest year for me professionally at Not Your Average Gal. I’ve grown leaps and bounds in terms of knowing what works and doesn’t. Knowing what values I want this business to emulate. Knowing that even if my bottom line doesn’t reflect it, I know how to bust ass.

It has also easily been one of the toughest personally for me in my everyday life. The drudgery of an ongoing pandemic has seeped its way into relationships and mental health.

Having the song play on repeat reminds me that I’m not alone in that.

I’m also not alone in the optimism that next year is gonna be better than this either.

That I can simultaneously be so incredibly grateful for all we have, all we’ve worked for and also, be feeling quite depleted and burnt out, wanting this year to be Over. Yes, with a capital O.

As a writer, I can’t say it any more eloquently than this.

It’s been really, really hard.

In so many different facets, ways and moments.

I’ve learned a lot from the hard and wonderful experiences of this year and while I was writing this, I realized how universal these lessons and feelings are. So I wrote this with you in mind too.

If we don’t learn from them, we’re doomed to repeat them and man, I am NOT letting that happen.

I believe next years gonna be better than this year.

The Hard and Wonderful Things We’ve Learned this Year.

People are going to people

I’ve been volunteering at community vaccination clinics since the FDA and CDC approved them. It has been an incredibly rewarding experience, reminding me that people generally want to take care of themselves and their community. When science suddenly became something that was divisive, when my husband’s expert opinion and lived-experience was up for debate, I fell into a deep hole of doubting the good in the world.

Much like many, many other people were experiencing, I felt my heart sink each time after seeing misinformation spread and vile, chest-beating slogans be hurled towards school boards, teachers and healthcare workers, including my husband.

Then, this month we were able to start giving vaccines to children and I watched hundreds of children come through our clinic. Some are super excited, skipping through the lines; happy to be able to get back to playdates and sports. Others nervously and understandably looked for reassurance, which I was happy to give.

As I was manning the door directing everyone where they should go, a gentleman walked up to me asking if he could leave through the doorway I was standing in front of.

It was thoroughfare that was clearly marked by a sign “Not an Exit.” I said it wasn’t a problem, because I like a good rule breaker.

“Okay. Thank you. I don’t want to leave out the real exit and deal with those people. They make me uncomfortable.”

I didn’t know what he meant as I had arrived there earlier than the clinic opened to help set up, so I missed seeing the protesters outside. 

I asked the National Guard personnel if there were protesters and they nodded, pointing to where they were outside. I asked if people could use the door I was standing in front of as an exit and they said it was no problem. Later in the shift they asked me to find a manager to deal with the protestors as they were getting a bit more brazen.

At a kids vaccination clinic.

It immediately infuriated me.

I felt so much of what I’ve felt this entire year. How? Why? I can’t explain science to people this determined to misunderstand. 

But, what changed that day is a testament to what we’ve all gone through.

I could have gotten wrapped up in the small group protesting outside, yelling at people leaving a clinic after getting vaccinated…or I could remind myself that hundreds more walked through those doors. Many with goofy grins and toothless smiles. (The kids, you guys.)

The good outweighs the bad. 

I’ll forever believe that. 

The moment I start sinking into that rabbit hole that it doesn’t, I need to make a hard pause and reevaluate.

Worth isn’t tied to productivity

Corporate Caroline still lives within me. To the point that sometimes I will literally sit at my desk without a task to do or waiting on a response from someone, just so I can pride myself on “looking productive.” Anyone who has worked in the business world (or a cubical farm) knows that if you have a boss that admires hours in the office vs. actual productivity, you are required to sit even when you may be done with your tasks. A lot of busy work is waiting around for responses and cleaning up your inbox or literally finding more work.

That mindset is why so many of us feel the burnout. 

If I’m done by noon on some days, I will feel this urge to still be at my desk and find things to do. It’s a product of Corporate Caroline’s past, as well as knowing there will always be something else on my to-do list that could get done. The lists are literally never-ending. Once you’ve crossed something off, you couuuuuulllllld go and look for that thing that you wanted to explore for your business or outline goals months and years out, brainstorm ideas for your next viral TikTok. As business owners and entrepreneurs, we know this. So we tie ourselves to the productivity train.

But it isn’t productive. It actually works against us to constantly feel that there is something else better to do than rest or create for the fun of it or—gasp!—do nothing.

Especially as you’ll see in what else I learned this year below, when you don’t hit your financial goals, the tendency is to buckle down and work harder, be more productive—produce, produce, produce!

And while there is shred truth behind that, it isn’t the end-all be-all, only prescriptive solution for how we fill our days. 

Some of my best business ideas have come from a long run.

Some of my hardest-hitting written pieces have come during a vacation.

Some of the most productive work I do is literally on a plane back from said vacation.

There is a very real reward for rest: the space it allows for being a more productive you.

I have to write HARD STOP time in my daily planner and estimate the time that I will shut my laptop closed based on the tasks at hand that day. Do I usually hit it? Heck no. But when I find myself scrolling or opening another tab because of this idea I had or thing I needed to buy or event I needed to look up…it’s mindless time spent.

I know I’m not making the best use of my time and just trying to fill my time with “productivity.”

Being very intentional with my work time is something I’ve worked on this year and will be proactive about in the next.

Our value isn’t a bottom line

The pandemic has decimated small businesses and while gratefully I didn’t see a huge impact the first year, this year has been a bit different. The first things cut in budgets are usually advertising and marketing, so it’s understandable. 

I also felt more lost at the beginning of the year than ever. It’s no small feat moving from Florida to Michigan to Hawaii while maintaining a business and generally, my flexibility was key. I’ve survived, even if it means putting in the same grit and effort to often work more for less income than years past. 

My husband’s income is key currently and that really hurts the soul of someone who once took pride in how much she earned and how much she was contributing to the household when he didn’t have one while in medical training. It has affected my self-worth. Still does some days, to be honest. 

As a business owner, you are constantly battling the thought that you could be doing more while also not burning yourself out so much that you don’t want to come back to your laptop in the morning.

Add in a pandemic and man, that’s been rough. There is always, always, always something more to do or more to learn about doing things more efficiently. Always.

So if you don’t stop to take care of yourself, you’ll find yourself crying over broken glass in your kitchen at 10pm at night. (You can read about that here.)

During this wake up call, I had to remind myself time and time again that my worth isn’t dependent on the bottom line. I’m a valuable freakin’ person with or without the money I bring into our household. You are too.

There’s beauty in still getting up, being determined to make this business work when the numbers at the end of your Quickbooks financials aren’t where you want them to be. There’s a grit in that. So often that’s overlooked by landing the big deals. Those are the things to celebrate, right?

But what about getting up knowing today will look exactly like yesterday during a pandemic and still putting in the purposeful effort of trying to make your business work?

Damn, we should celebrate that more.

Slowing down to speed up

I think this is a book. Yup. Actually it is. During frantic days where I feel like my mind is racing with what to do next, I have to tell myself, outloud, “Slow down.”

When I’m rushing to make a sandwich to get back to my desk and frantically finding the bread and lunch meat and cheese and pickles and spicy mustard and knife and plate and…how can we do this faster…and put the sandwich together and put the items back in the fridge and do you want a Diet Coke or no, I should have more water and wait, I forgot to add the cheese! 

In the midst of trying to get all the items back in the fridge I inevitably drop something and spend more time cleaning up the mess than if I had just taken a hot second to make a sandwich. 

“Slow down, Caroline.”

This goes for tasks I think will take FOR-ever and actually don’t. If I tell myself to slow down, allot an hour to do it as slowly as I want, it usually doesn’t ever even take close to that.

We live in a society where we’re judged on how much we get done during a day and this creates such an unnecessary narrative in our heads about moving faster and being more efficient and DID YOU ALSO PUT YOUR ORDER IN FOR CHRISTMAS PIES?! Go! Go! Go!

Phew.

Slow down. 

Nature is healing

As we haven’t been able to gather in large groups in Hawaii since we moved here, I’ve found solace in the alone time of the beauty of where I live. It could be a walk in my neighborhood. Run in the park. Hiking around cliffs. This year more than others, I’ve realized how much I need to be outdoors to feel a sense of wonder and without sounding too woo, healing. Planting your feet in the grass. Smelling plumeria. Picking the monster Meyer lemons off your lemon tree.

It’s grounding. It reminds you how magical this world is and also simultaneously how small you are in this universe. 

Plus, I live on an island where a literal volcano is erupting. Have you ever heard lava moving? I have. It sounds like a methodical whooshing, like a waterfall in slow motion. THAT’S INCREDIBLE. How lucky are we to live on a planet with such remarkable events?

When times get hairy, as they certainly have for every single person on earth this year, it helps to just simply go outside. This is also coming from a person who used to live in the Arctic Tundra, so I know heading out in the cold isn’t exactly awesome. But, even standing on your deck or patio or front steps for a couple minutes, taking it in, is grounding.

Relationships can survive thousands of miles

A huge worry of mine when we moved to Florida for medical school back in 2012, was that the distance would impact some of my friendships. In some instances, it did. But more often than not, those tried and true relationships lasted. 

But a move to Hawaii? 4,500 miles and 5 time zones away? It was a concern, but I’m so grateful for the friends that have bridged the distance and even flown here to visit us! We are incredibly lucky to have such a solid crew that will make the time and effort.

And sends us hilarious pics and videos of their kids asking when they can come to Hawaii. 

Bless.

Now, more than ever, as we bridge the gaps of miles, politics and even the seasons of life, it’s critical to have a solid circle. More often than not, it’s to remind you that you aren’t crazy, but also because this life thing isn’t for the faint of heart. You don’t need a huge crew to remind you either! Knowing that you have even one friend you can both laugh and cry with is soul-healing.

Art is necessary

Fun fact: I used to work in the Art History department at Michigan State University. I even took enough Art History classes that I considered making it my minor. 

When I was younger and laying out my 4-year plan for high school, because that’s what you do when you’re an overachiever, I had put in enough Art classes to take AP art my senior year in high school. My mother encouraged me to not do that and put in more “practical” classes. She wasn’t wrong necessarily, but I really feel a deep connection to art and wonder what my life would feel like with more of it in it.

Cue to this year.

I literally put in my schedule: make art.

Anything from abstract paintings to drawing of pictures I took in Hong Kong and even just staring out my office window wondering what the hell I could create. I don’t have any particularly formal training aside from elementary and middle school classes, but simply creating does something to my heart that can’t be put into words.

When people talk about getting “in the zone” with their work or even in sports, I think of my time creating art. I get so in the zone that I often forget about time. 

You are not everyone’s cup of tea

I mean, this is the theme of Not Your Average Gal, right? Living your life on your own terms, even if it’s waaaaaay beyond the average path people take. 

Someone may not like me, a post I put up, a blog I wrote or hell, that I have an opinion that may be different from theirs.

That’s going to happen and sometimes people are surprised by my response to it.

Okay. Good for them. 

More specifically: Good for Her. Not for Me.

(I’ve written about this for years. Here. Here. And here.)

Curate your life, your feed, your circle, your friends, your family, your work, your everyday life into something you love! 

And if that doesn’t include me or you, that’s okay.

Does it sometimes leave me scratching my head because I’m a ball of freakin’ fun? Sure. Does it sometimes hurt? Sure.

But it’s not up to me to figure out why someone may talk behind my back, or even block, mute, delete or stop talking to me in real life. 

Guess what? It’s not up to you either.

You don’t need to waste your time and breath and your precious heart on why people…people. If someone wants to chat with you about it, they will. And for that, come with an open heart and mind. 

Otherwise? Not my circus. Not my monkeys.

Learning not to take something personally unless it’s personally brought to you, is a masterclass in relationships and interpersonal communication.

It also frees up a heck of a lot of time and energy better spent on kinder pursuits.

This year showed me now, more than ever, how important this is considering the divisive environment and quick-to-respond tendencies hurt people are having during a literal pandemic.

Offer grace. Wish them well.

And live your damn life. 

Psst. Sometimes this is exactly what pisses people off. You know, smiling and enjoying your life.

I know it’s easy to write off 2021 and I certainly have done as much several times this year.

Sod off, 2021! (Yeah, I yell in an English accent.)

It’s given us a lot of pause to consider what and who is important to us. It wouldn’t be me if I didn’t at least try to put together some semblance of what we can collectively learn from it. 

I know 2022 has a lot of potential for disappointment as this pandemic seems to be unending.

But, I’ve got a silly tendency to believe in the magic of this world. I know there are more wonderful moments left to be had.

I’ve got a lot more living to do too.

Besides…

Next year’s gonna be better than this year
Next year’s gonna be better than this cause
New Year’s Eve comin’ with a fresh kiss and
Next year’s gonna be better than this year
Next year’s gonna be better than this year
Next year’s gonna be better than this cause
New Year’s Eve comin’ with a fresh kiss and
Next year’s gonna be better than this

Next year’s my come up
I’ve been lackin’ but I can feel that it’s the one
All the last three-sixty-five-one sucked
Like God group texted the world and dumped us
Bah, bah, bah, you better watch my bounce back
I’ma be the man in here
Glass to the sky, like we tryna grab the chandelier
I’d like to take this opportunity and toast to me
For bein ‘exactly who I’m supposed to be
‘Cause life is gonna do what life does


I don’t wanna look back and regret who I was
Let go of the expectations and then fire one
Forget the tally sheet before all my time’s up
And I know I gotta roll with it
I’m well aware the universe doesn’t owe me shit
I know that all of this pain leads the growth, I think
That next year’s gonna be better than this (let’s go)

I’m still an optimist, yeah
I got a lot to live on time
Ain’t foolin ‘that shit’
‘Cause next year’s gonna be better than, better than (go)


Next year’s gonna be better than this year (woo)
Next year’s gonna be better than this’ cause
New Year’s Eve comin ‘with a fresh kiss and
Next year’s gonna be better than this

I’m sick of missin’ out, sick of the fear and doubt
I’ma get spiritual soon, live in the here and now
Alone in my room, but you gon’ hear me loud
And clear, let’s start it at the top of the year
I want one last cigarette, one last sip of it
One last secret, one last little bit
One last upper, one last sedative
One last supper with the devil and his relatives
And I was gonna change my ways
I was just waitin’ for that day to pull myself up out of that page
Run that route and make a play, so sick of sittin’ on the bench
It’s finally to get in shape and livin’ like a scrimmage
Thinkin’ that I’ll get another day now, no
I ain’t waitin’ for coach, marchin’ band
I’ma throw and parade in my zone, goddamn
Man in the mirror finally got on, fuckin’ next year
The time is now to press go and I’m gone

I’m still an optimist, yeah (uh-huh)
I got a lot to live on time (yes)
Ain’t foolin ‘that shit’
‘Cause next year’s gonna be better than, better than (go)

Next year’s gonna be better than this year (woo)
Next year’s gonna be better than this’ cause
New Year’s Eve comin ‘with a fresh kiss, yeah
Next year’s gonna be better than this (again)
Next year’s gonna be better than this year (woo)
Next year’s gonna be better than this’ cause
New Year’s Eve comin’ with a fresh kiss and
Next year’s gonna be better than this
Let’s go

Next Years Gonna be Better Than This Year

Performed by Macklemore and Windser
Produced by Ryan Lewis
Songwriters: Ben Haggerty / Brian Wall / Ryan Lewis / Sam Hollander

The Hawaii Life: One Year in

By

It’s beyond hard to believe we moved to Hawaii over a year ago.

One year of gentle waves, coqui frogs, mild (and not-so-mild) earthquakes, a volcanic eruption and, you know, adjusting to life 4,500 miles away from our former home, in the middle of a pandemic–one that your husband is on the frontlines of–and also, just for funzies, toss in buying your first home.

Whew. 

Did you get all of that?

It honestly feels like we just moved yesterday.

I remember exactly what I wore for our 3 long flights, how I packed precisely for ginger kitty to make his Trans-Pacific flight with us and the simultaneous heaviness of saying goodbye, mixed in with pure excitement for the adventures ahead. 

Read more: COVID Travel: Flying During a Pandemic

Many lessons have been learned in this year around the sun. 

I shall indulge you now.

Take your time. Hurry up.

When we landed, we immediately started our 14-day quarantine. This sort of quarantine doesn’t exist now that COVID tests are readily available. But when we moved, we needed to sign legal paperwork when we landed that we wouldn’t leave our home for 14 days in order to prevent the spread of COVID. This isn’t isolation as most people think. This was a stay-at-home order that meant my daily walk to the (empty) mailbox was the most exciting part of our quarantine.

As evidence in my Instagram Stories.

We were not allowed to leave our property for 14 days.

Day 13 of Quarantine.
Up where there walk.
Up where they run.
Up where they play all day in the sun.
Wanderin’ free – wish I could be
Part of that world…

Island time is a very real thing here and when we did get out of quarantine, we found that need to settle into slowing down. Things have happened painfully slow at times.

Getting our DMV appointments, updating car insurance, getting a response to most anything if we had a question about policies or paperwork.

The thing is, it always worked out. Just more slowly than my mainlander heart was used to. Perhaps it’s a gentle nudge that…it always works out how it’s supposed to.

COVID connections

About 2 weeks after we got out of quarantine, Hawaii hit some of their highest COVID numbers still to date (until this past week unfortunately…) and in response, virtually, completely shut down. State parks, beaches, restaurants, most smaller retailers. All closed. We briefly saw our beautiful new hometown a bit before things closed again. We had just gone through nearly 6 months of that in Michigan, so we were as used to it as we could be by then.

Read More: 9 People Share Their Daily Pandemic Schedules

In the brief two weeks we were able to roam socially distanced, we met some of my husband’s colleagues at an outdoor get together for the two new docs that started. I remember how nervous I was because meeting new people is nerve-wracking enough, but doing it during social distancing times felt extra odd. 

*waves at a distance* 

*shouts*

HELLO! NICE TO MEET YOU! I’M CAROLINE. I’M NEW HERE.

We had just gone through some of the toughest moments of our lives in Michigan. The heaviness of the silent hugs my husband gave in our living room after intubating patient after patient will never, ever leave me. Especially when meeting new people. Especially after what we saw and went through. We wouldn’t wish that on anyone.

My suspicion about our stand-off-ish-ness at that employee welcome gathering was confirmed just recently in recounting that day. I was told they got it after Hawaii shut down. It made sense. We had already seen what they were hopefully trying to prevent by shutting down and knew we were socially distant as a precaution. 

But what happened was those kind connections I made, were put to the side for months and months as we all buckled down trying to prevent a surge on a small island in the middle of the Pacific.

What people don’t understand and my husband can talk about until he’s blue in the face, is that the small Hawaii COVID numbers don’t tell you the full story. Those numbers have to stay low. We’re limited in terms of how we could respond in even a slight surge. From the distance to the next major hospitals to resources to equipment to ICU beds to even healthcare workers. A surge here would be catastrophic. So even a small increase (or relatively low numbers in comparison to the mainland) is cause for concern. 

So, I did what I knew: settled into my work, found some new books to read, started running more consistently again and remained in contact with those close to me on the mainland until things started opening up again by the end of 2020. 

Read More: I Will No Longer Bond over Hating Our Bodies.

Our experience moving here in June of 2020 verses those who moved here even in the fall of 2020 are vastly different. They didn’t have to quarantine (with a negative COVID test) and things had relatively started opening back up a small amount as tourists were once again let in. We saw the beauty and splendor of our new home and then—BAM!

I joke with my husband that people who have moved here after us seem to have more friends. That’s partly to do with timing and also with us as well.  We didn’t feel totally comfortable until we were both partially or fully vaccinated especially because of his line of work. “My husband had another COVID case yesterday, wanna go hang out?” 

Volcanoes and earthquakes-Oh my!

2020 went out with a literal bang. Mt. KÄ«lauea erupted on the evening of December 20, 2020. We felt the initial earthquake in our living room. Did you know Hawaii has hundreds of earthquakes a year? Many aren’t noticeable. But there are some that make you think you’ve had a few too many margaritas as the world sways for a moment.

After we felt the earth shake for a bit, the hubster went to bed so his night-owl wife could watch some trash reality TV and about 20 minutes later he rushed back in to tell me the earthquake was because a volcano erupted.

Of course, we were meant to be driving past Volcanoes National Park where it was erupting the very next morning. OF COURSE. The hubster does some 24-hr calls at a hospital near that region every once and a while. 

I’ll tag along because their team has at a condo which is close to a beautiful black sand beach. It’s been a nice break from the monotony of staying home and working. I just set up shop in a different location. 

Like the mainlanders we are, we imagined lava spewing onto the roads, road closures, mass chaos and a bum rush to the hospitals. PLOT TWIST: None of that happened. We made our way down past the erupting volcano and were just gobsmacked by the power. Just the steam coming up from the park was incredible. And we were seeing this from the road! 

We went to visit KÄ«lauea during the day afterwards and found many gifts alongside the rim meant for Pele, the goddess of volcanoes, fire, and lightning. Weeks later we went to visit the beauty at night and it’s a scene I’ll never forget.

In so many instances while living here, I’m gently (or abruptly in this instance) reminded of my own naive, preconceived notions of the world. Something as seemingly scary as a volcano erupting is a sacred reminder of the land forever changing, moving and adding molten lava to this earth; telling us we are never in control, to respect the ‘aina (land).

Things aren’t as expensive …except sometimes they are

The hubster and I have found that when people didn’t know what to say about us moving to Hawaii, they usually made negative remarks about it. 

It’s so far.

It’s so expensive.

Why would you leave 9 months of grey and 3 months of cold and another 3 months of bitter cold?

So, let’s dive in.

Yes, it’s far. If you live on the mainland.

But a little perspective shift: it’s closer for us to travel to Asia and Australia & New Zealand. It’s really only an hour longer flight for us to get to the west coast from where we lived in Michigan and it’s actually the same length flight from where we lived in Florida to get to the west coast. So there!

Next, the cost of living. It is a fair point, but it’s not as expensive as we anticipated. 

I say this with an abundance of love and respect: it’s expensive everywhere now, so examine the place you live before making wild rationalizations. By the time we moved back to Michigan for residency, it ended up being so much more expensive for groceries than it was when we lived in Florida for med school. I’m talking at least double the grocery bills. Florida and Michigan housing prices are giving anyone a run for their money right now too. 

We shipped my car and donated his before we left. (That ol’ Pontiac G6 got us through med school and residency and eventually sounded like a jet engine every time it started.) So we were a bit surprised by prices the day we got out of quarantine to buy his new truck. They were about 10-15% more expensive than the mainland.

Gas is comparable to prices on the west coast, often less. Property taxes are much lower here. Income tax is higher here. Electricity is the same here for us and even better because we have solar. Plus, we have no A/C or heat so that can save us. Groceries can end up being about 15-20% more expensive depending what you buy. Anything canned and/or processed are higher costs. I even saw a spice in the spice aisle for $14/bottle. Meat can be more expensive, though we’ve offset that with Costco runs or buying local. Plus, we’ve countered costs with the bountiful (and cheap) farmers markets. Going out is similar to South Florida prices, so we aren’t shocked much. Activities we love are free: hiking, swimming, running, hopefully SUP and kayaking someday soon.

We’ve found, ultimately, costs do tend to balance out. Some things are more expensive, some things are surprisingly less. If you live a life very dependent on everyday luxuries (oh how I miss just running to Costco for a quick 15 minute trip, rather than it being half of my day) then yes, it will be more expensive. If you’re open to being flexible, the costs pan out. 

Aloha kindness

Prior to moving back to Michigan, I posted on a Facebook group for the city we were going to live inquiring about houses to rent as we weren’t finding any online. Funny enough, we found the home we rented because of that friendly group.  

I did the same prior to moving to Hawaii, found a local group and posted some questions about moving there: What would you recommend keeping? What would you recommend we bring? Anything you’d like me to bring you from the mainland?

I was smacked in the face with questions about why the hell we were moving there. I was told to stay back in Michigan. Honestly? Truth be told, rightfully so. I should have done my due diligence and been more educated about COVID numbers, as well as the complex issues surrounding people moving here. 

Once I explained we both had jobs (some people move here without jobs and treat the ‘aina and ohana disrespectfully) and my husband was a physician, it seemed to warm the room a bit more. Doctors are needed here as many don’t stay long due to many factors including resources, an overburdened system and sometimes missing their families back on the mainland.

What I was also naive about at the time is the deep-rooted, truthful history of Hawaii that I didn’t learn in school. It’s absolutely without a doubt my job to educate myself on the Kingdom of Hawaii; the culture, people and very valid fears they have of people who look like me when we come here.

As things open up more, I’m ready to immerse myself in that education. As I’ve stated previously, the best advice I ever got in all my advocacy work is simply this: shut up, sit back and listen. I’ve learned so much since being here by doing just that.

But, whew. That Facebook post was quite the reality check. Maybe the Aloha spirit is a thing reserved for tourists?

I found out quickly it wasn’t. 

A woman saw my post on Facebook and reached out to me mentioning her husband was a doctor too. Turns out, we met him while interviewing and he actually works with my huband! The first day we landed, without a way to return our rental car (we weren’t allowed to Uber to get us to our new rental home because of COVID restrictions), they showed up on our doorstep, N95 masks and all, asked for the keys and returned it without hesitation. They even brought us alcohol. ALOOOOOOHA indeed.

She’s now my pal that comes around to pick fruit off our trees to bake tasty treats or brew beer and funny enough, they live down the road from our new home.

Through the power of Instagram, I also met one of the kindest people in the world. I started following Living Hilo Style before we even moved because HELLO, she posts a lot about the delicious food in our new home. 

We started chatting via DM and she offered the best recommendations for restaurants, delivery, parks to hang out at and even a bakery to get the hubster’s birthday pie. When I saw she was volunteering at vaccine clinics, something I wanted to do but was told I needed a medical background, I asked if they needed more volunteers and they did! So we got to meet in person, where she’s introduced me to–hand to heart–some of the best people. I’ve had so many laughs at the clinics and met so many wonderful people in our community that it really reminded me why an introvert like me can benefit from meeting wonderful people.

The Aloha spirit is indeed alive and well.

As I sit out on our back lanai (that’s what we call our back deck now, you know?) listening to the birds chip and the sun peek through palm trees (oh my god we have palm trees!), I’m having another pinch me moment.

My forever work buddy (and laziest intern alive) enjoys his new view too.

They happen quite often here.

So many times the hubster and I will be driving, sitting silently and peering out the window at our beautiful town, until one of us says, “Can you believe we live here?”

“No, I can’t.”

I’m just so damn grateful that we do.

Here’s to many more pinch me moments.

Talking Story: The Art of Storytelling

By

I used to perform commercials in the mirror as a kid. Usually during my bedtime routine and usually to the annoyance of one of my parents. Perhaps as an act to avoid bedtime? Who? Me? Who knows. 

“Brushing your teeth can help make them sparkly. Plus, your dentist will be happy with you.”

“Did you know singing your ABCs while washing your hands makes sure they are clean?”

“You’re not fully clean unless you’re Zest-fully clean.”*insert elder Millennial advertisement reference here*

My creative shenanigans continued into Tween-dom where I’d write scripts for different plays and my siblings or childhood friends would then perform outside in our backyard. Many were hysterical performances that would surely have been worthy of an Oscar in screenwriting if memory serves me correctly.

In high school and college, short stories, speeches and even essays were one of the better ways for me to properly and effectively express myself. It often felt like leaving a paper trail of my heart’s sentiments for any one who wanted to read. 

This very website started as a way for me to show my demo reel and the videos I produced once I finished broadcasting school. (It was originally named Caroline Made This as any of the OG readers will remember.) As it always does, writing and storytelling pulled me enough to add the Blog tab to my website and, as fate would have it, that’s how many of you found me here. 

Including my previous job!

After over a decade in advertising and now with a newly minted video broadcasting diploma under my belt, I was offered a copywriting job partly based on my writing skills from this very website. 

A job that took me from a copywriter to senior copywriter to running a department and then leaving to start my own business.

From my writing.

From my storytelling.

It seems the art of storytelling has been etched in my soul for a lifetime.

We flew to Hawaii in January of 2020 so the hubster could interview for a position that he was eventually offered here. 

Yes, right before the entire world shut down. 

Our first few days were a whirlwind. We had interviews in 3 different hospitals across the island. (Yes, they asked spouses to come along for them because ultimately, the spouses are the reason why most doctor families will leave Hawaii. They want to make sure we’re happy too. We get interviewed too. NO PRESSURE!) Then a real estate agent showed us around different areas. Then we drove around to check out what we could. Usually by the time we got back to the hotel, we were wiped out, sinking our heavy heads into the pillows, considering how one major decision will set off a domino effect for the rest of our lives. 

When we finally had a day off to digest things and sit down, we decided to head to a famous local fish market that was down the road from our hotel that I had read about. After we picked up our poke, we went outside to find a table to sit. It was a busy hour so the tables were all occupied. 

The hubster and I were just about to say, let’s go eat it back at the hotel before we heard a voice say,“Hey, there’s room here.”  

We saw an older gentleman gesture to two empty seats at his table. He had been speaking with a lady at a table next to him, so I assumed that he knew her and he would move his seat next to her once we sat down.

As we both sat down and opened up our poke to examine it’s local deliciousness, the man asked us which kind we got. He told us the one he was eating he watched come straight off the boat this morning and then laughed.

He continued talking to the woman at the next table until she got up and said goodbye, offering him a kind smile while saying, “It was nice to talk story with you. Maybe I’ll see you next time.”

He immediately turned back to us and started chatting.

Wait. He didn’t know her?

They just talked and then he offered us a seat at his table?

I was immediately brought back to my time in Bangkok or Hong Kong or London or Tokyo, where you make your way to an empty spot at a table and just order your drinks, even if you don’t know the people seated next to you.

“This place is awesome,”I thought.

He continued to chat with us about fishing and asked why we were in town. We told him we were considering moving here and he didn’t blink. Just chatted about the weather and warm waves. 

He calmly left when he was finished with his food, wishing us a good stay, telling us he hoped we’d enjoy his hometown.

Even as friendly Midwesterners, the hubster and I generally keep to ourselves when traveling. Sure, we’re friendly, but our overall feeling is we’re visitors; it’s best to remain observant of cultures, traditions, behaviors and then proceed with caution, often only when asked or invited.

Being in Hawaii felt like a scene out of the Truman Show. Everyone offered a kind smile and talked story with us. Would we hit the end of the ocean on our way home and find out this was a TV set all along? 

I can happily attest that didn’t happen.

In fact, we moved to this wonderful place!

A place that, now, when people come over to our home, they talk story with us in our hallway by the front door before leaving.

It’s not small talk either.

You know, the kind of small talk that makes introverts’ skin crawl. That kind of chatter is just filled with the everyday pleasantries of how they are doing or what the weather is like.

Nope, not talking story.

While talking story can still be quick conversations, I’ve enjoyed them so much more than the small talk of brushing shoulders with an acquaintance in the moment.

Talking story in our hallway has become part of our home. From the painter telling us how many grandchildren he was excited to see later that week, to a contractor sharing his tips for adjusting to the move here and then our neighbor gently teaching us how to pronounce the names of crossroads we live at while explaining who they were named after and how important they are here.

It’s not too intrusive.

It’s just the right amount of genuine interest.

It’s a sincere connection.

Talking story is a gentle kindness.

It’s the sort of storytelling this world needs. 

Mean Doesn’t Win.

By

In my happy place: London with an iced coffee.

“All I ask is one thing, and I’m asking this particularly of young people that watch: Please do not be cynical. I hate cynicism. For the record, it’s my least favorite quality — it doesn’t lead anywhere. Nobody in life gets exactly what they thought they were going to get. But if you work really hard and you’re kind, amazing things will happen. I’m telling you, amazing things will happen.”

– Conan O’brien during his last show

I realize this quote is probably a pop culture phenomenon now, but it has been sitting on my desk since the moment I decided to leave Corporate America and start my own business.

It sticks with me for many reasons, but the real heart-tugger portion is more about not getting exactly what you thought they were going to get.

For those that aren’t Conan fans, this was the last few lines he spoke on his very last, short lived tenure at the “Tonight Show.” It couldn’t have been an easy night for him. He had chosen to step down from his dream job as host when NBC decided to change the timeslot to make room for a Jay Leno program–a move that many fans, including Conan, thought would ruin the show.

He still spoke eloquently about his very valid disappointment, but left with his head held high. He wouldn’t let this hand of cards turn him into a miserable, cynical turd. Something that easily happens to each one of us, including myself.

I’ve experienced both sides of this: watching miserable people continue their tedious tirade of convincing everyone this world is awful and also being so deep in negativity myself that I catch myself thinking the absolute worst of people.

As women, we’re taught, from a young age to need to fight to be heard, noticed and given credit where credit is due in office settings. I’ve certainly seen a shift over the years, but it’s still not great. We still need to wave our hands and demand to take up the space we deserve. Often this creates unnecessary, internal catty competition; sometimes seeped in jealousy.

While in the midst of a full-on mean girls campaign at the expense of my name and reputation in an office many moons ago, I had to work hard at reminding myself that miserable souls do miserable things. I had to remind myself that the truth eventually shows itself, even if it takes months or years. I’m talking, deep-dive meditation, writing in my journal, hitting the dammit doll on the desk and not punching people in the face kind-of-hard-work.

Background: In what felt like the blink of an eye, kind connections and conversations, turned into keyboards furiously tapping when I walked in, messages minimized when I walked by and the distinct feeling that I was being actively iced out and made fun of. (My suspicions were later confirmed by other coworkers who eventually left the company as well.)

Eye rolls. Critical information withheld. Inaccurate information provided. Lies told to superiors.

It was awful.

Don’t be fooled into thinking I did nothing and sat idly by. I did stick up for myself at one point and stood up to one of the office bullies to remind her I knew of her shenanigans. I talked to management. I asked for help. I kept records and notes.

But, in the meantime, I kept my head down. Did the work.

Flew to NYC to pitch Louis Vuitton. Kept my head down more. Did the work some more.

Saved every penny we could. Kept my head down more. Did the work some more.

Won an international client and got zero credit for it. Continued to keep my head down. Worked. Focused on those in the office that collaborated well.

Maintained awesome connections with talented, creative souls in the office (even to this day). Worked some more. Saved some more. Kept my head down still.

One of my close girlfriends reminded me to “enjoy the jealousy,” walk in with my head held high and happily wave in their direction; knowing full well they would think I was dumb for seemingly not knowing what was going on, but knowing in my heart they are the sad ones instead. (Oh if it were only that easy.)

You know what’s saddest of all about it? That kind of cynicism and misery is such an awful way to live.

In fact, they picked apart this very blog. You know, the one which evolved into my own copywriting business.

From the bottom of my heart, I sincerely hope they are doing well. Really, truly, hand-to-heart. Why in the hell would I feel otherwise? Who would want to carry that spiteful burden?

I also hope, again from the bottom of my heart, they aren’t circling their next prey, ousting them and then treating their very presence like a virus no one wants to get.

Do better.

After saving some more, working some more and keeping my head down the day finally came.

I turned in my resignation and didn’t look back except to tell this story so others know they aren’t alone.

All I ask is one thing, and I’m asking this particularly of young people that watch: Please do not be cynical. I hate cynicism. For the record, it’s my least favorite quality — it doesn’t lead anywhere.

In its most general sense, and mental illness aside, it’s your job not to be a cynical jerk. It’s the easy route to gossip and to unleash cynical tropes about how someone may be different than you.

I’ve been caught up and whirled into the negativity at times, spewing out seemingly harmless jokes about others or believing a person was personally out to get me or not doing their best.

Was I correct sometimes? Yes. Was I incorrect sometimes? Yes. But, still, what a crap way to live and believe in others.

I once read–it was probably Brené Brown, yes 100% it was her–that it’s so much easier to believe everyone around you is just doing their best. Trusting that, believing that, will lead to so much less work on your shoulders to criticize and instead, help.

Nobody in life gets exactly what they thought they were going to get.

There’s a scene in the often overlooked but awesome movie, Contact.

Laugh all you want, it’s a great flick!

Jodie Foster’s character, Dr. Ellie Arroway, has worked for decades as a scientist and finds strong evidence of extraterrestrial life. The moment she’s brought in to tell the world about it from the White House, her archnemesis literally steps in and steals the show. This was also the guy who tried to shut down her project and didn’t have great things to say to her about her work. He took her work, called it his own and got all the accolades.

I viscerally remember crying in the theaters at this scene. And it seems like such an innocuous one, no?

But even at that point in my young life, I had experienced people mocking me or stealing my work to copy and claim as their own. And man, that’s such a gut punch.

Dr. Arroway didn’t get what she thought she was going to get; what she deserved to get.

*raises fists*

How many times have you felt that too? Knowing with every fiber of your being that you deserved the credit, promotion or pay raise. It’s infuriating!

“But if you work really hard and you’re kind, amazing things will happen. I’m telling you, amazing things will happen.”

Life often presents itself with a choice:

kindness

or

cynicism.

You know those people I mentioned above? They chose cynicism. They chose mean. They chose gossip.

Dr. Arroway continued to be her kind-self, as awful and frustrating as it was to watch from afar that the ahole got to do what she had worked towards.

You know what ended up happening to her archnemesis? He died.

Do I need to be that dramatic? No, but man, it sure gets the picture across, no?

*insert halo*

She eventually got to go on her mission too!

Mean didn’t win. The cynics didn’t win.

The truth will always, always, always–repeat after me–ALWAYS come out.

I’m sitting in my office running my own business pantsless from Hawaii about to go take a break and sit by the ocean. Who’s the real winner now?

There are so many times throughout our day we are tested and asked for a reaction of kindness. From that rude cashier to the jerk in the office.

Does that mean being taken advantage of? Heck no! Sometimes the most kind thing you can do is to set boundaries.

Goddammit Brené Brown, you’ve seeped into my soul.

But to respond, coming from a place of kindness, being yourself and sticking to the ethics you most value is a beautiful thing.

The Conan quote may seem like TV fodder. It may, at worst, even seem cliché. But for me, it’s a reminder that working hard and being kind go hand-in-freaking-hand.

Mean doesn’t win.

Mean doesn’t play the long game.

Mean is temporary.

You don’t need to dim the light of others to shine yourself.

The real victors are the kind ones.

That kind light will always be bright enough.

A Battle Cry: 2020 Hasn’t Crushed Us.

By

Don’t get me wrong, 2020 has pummeled us. 

2020 has held my head under water, yanked it back out by my hair and allowed me just enough air to catch my breath, right before shoving me back under again. 

But, I won’t let it take me down. I’m a formidable contender, you know? 

Whatever fight I have left in me will body roll 2020 out of it’s death grip, tossing it in the vast ocean of this relentless year. I will walk away from it, soaked, downtrodden but ready to toss my wet hair with the ferocity and precision of a sorority girl shooting another TikTok video.

Nope, 2020 won’t crush me. 

It’s in that browbeaten walk back to shore that perhaps I have the epiphany that makes this year not worth it necessarily, but one where we can all beat our chests and shake our fists up at the sky screaming–I made it! Maybe a little worse for the wear. Maybe more heartbroken than last year. Maybe grief stricken. But, we made it. 

2020 was perhaps the reminder we needed. 

Here’s your reminder: We can do hard things. 

I won’t fill you feed with toxic positivity that we all learned something about life when so many of our fellow Americans have lost theirs. I won’t downplay what a terrible year this was either. It was awful. 

But I will offer what little I know about the heart of a protector.

You. The protector.

When we were told to stay home, we protected our families.

When we were told school was canceled, we protected our children,

When we were told hundreds of thousands of our citizens were dying, we protected our neighborhoods.

When we were told to wear masks, we protected our communities.

When we were told voters were being suppressed, we protected our democracy.

When we were told we had to stay home more, adjust our schedules more, move more and more further away from when we’d be going back to normal, we protected our sanity with self-care.

When we were told we wouldn’t have presidential results for weeks, maybe months, we protected our wine. Just me? I digress…

We had to slam the brakes of our normal lives and watch 2020 turn into a slow, catastrophic car wreck, while using our powerful “mom arm” technique, protecting our passenger and maybe yelling, “Not today, Satan!”

We’ve protected ourselves from the clutches of a relentless year.

We should be proud. 

You should be proud.

I should also mention that this doesn’t mean 2020 has given me gut punches that would lead anybody with the wind knocked out of them, laying in the fetal position, questioning life.

After over a decade of sweat, tears, late nights and therapy sessions, mixed in with saving lives and caffeine IV drips, my husband finished his ER residency amongst the backdrop of a pandemic that took the lives of patients in a way he’d never seen.

Even now, today, nearly 10 months later, in quiet moments, like a soldier reliving his worst days of battle, he mentions just how scary those first months were. When no one had seen the likes of a virus like this. When patients came in struggling to breathe and died hours later in front of a team of brilliant minds. All of that, through all of it, he quietly put his head down and finished up the work and then waved goodbye to 4 years of his EM residency 6 months later. 

There was no big family graduation party. No huge blowout for this monumental feat. 

Less than a week later, we packed our home and moved over 4,500 miles away during a global pandemic. 

There was no huge going away party. No way to say goodbye to everyone in one, tear-filled party. (Although I did get to say goodbye in smaller groups.)

Now we’re in the middle of paradise, the reward for the sacrifices and work from the last decade. And while we do not regret our move, it’s been woefully lonely at times; unable to meet new people, join groups or even be able to connect with the people I love at times because of the time difference.

Not to mention the trips canceled, the birthdays missed, the holidays best-avoided and all the hugs desperately needed.

2020 is like perpetually drinking orange juice just after you’ve brushed your teeth.

I was watching a show last week–okay, it was the Real Housewives–and was reminded just how naive we were in those first few weeks of this pandemic and from that, just how far we’ve come. In a bizarre moment, it was almost endearing to see how people regulated their toilet paper use and thought the kids would only be home from school for a month.

I audibly giggled. 

Yes, I know that’s a trauma response.

In a sick way, it has numbed us. We rarely blink at that statistics nowadays.

I encourage you to remember the early days, when we lived in absolute fear. The good fear; the fear that gives you pause not to touch a hot pan. We “only” thought 200,000 people could die and hearing that sent chills down our spines.

Now we’re at over 300,000 lives lost. 

I urge you to read that statistic with the heart you started this year with, the one who clamored for normalcy in the first few weeks of our stay-at-home orders. 

It’s shocking. It’s unbelievable. It’s gut wrenching.

And we’ve trudged through it. Adjusted our new normal. Braced for what is to come next while simultaneously hoping things just miraculously change.

Now is absolutely not the time to suggest what we can accomplish with the last weeks of this ungodly year. 

There are no trophies for who is the most productive right now. Plus, productivity looks different depending on the day. 

Sometimes it looks and feels like the rumblings of our past normal day-to-day life, only to be gut punched with the reminder of another patient diagnosed, another life lost or 100,000 new cases in one day while people protest wearing masks and call those of us who believe in science, sheeple. 

Sometimes it looks like taking a shower, putting on pants and simply checking off things that need to get done in order to carry you onto the next day. Even if that looks like feeding yourself something nutritious. 

It is not the time to assess your motivation for weight loss, your dedication to the gym or the drive to earn more money. 

Now is the time to be kind to yourself.

Like many of you, my weight has fluctuated throughout the pandemic. Right now, I’m grateful for still being able to get out and run. My pants may feel a bit snugger, but I’m not binge-eating my feelings (a win in my book). Some days I feel like my routine resembles the pre-pandemic gym days and I feel great. Some weeks, I don’t want to get off my office chair or couch. My business initially took a hit, worried me and now I’m having to schedule work out for weeks because I’m so busy. 

The ebbs and flows of 2020 are real.

That sort of fluctuation is exhausting. 

But, I want to remind you how remarkable that is. How remarkable you are. 

We’ve been handed unprecedented daily tragedies. 

Extraordinary circumstances.

Unparalleled stress.

Do not dismiss that! 

2020 has not crushed me or you. 

We’ve done more than survived–we’ve overcome.

Decency Won. Disinformation Persists.

By

We just reached 242,000 deaths from COVID-19 tonight and it feels personal. It is personal.

I easily could have been in that number. My husband, especially, could have been in that number. 

As the majority of Americans are breathing a sigh of relief that an administration that catastrophically failed to protect 200,000+ of our citizens is done, what I’m hearing from those that still voted for it, is astonishing. 

“Good luck getting a vaccine under Biden’s administration.”

“Good luck with your stimulus check now that McConnell won’t work with those socialist Dems.”

“Good luck with rioting and looting and burning down our cities.”

Who would wish that on another person? Who would legitimately want things to not work out for our fellow citizens? Why is that sort of animosity for your neighbor acceptable? What about ‘Love thy neighbor’?

I didn’t vote for a man. I voted for an office. I voted for dignity. I voted for better. For all of us.

I voted so you could have better healthcare.

So you could have equal representation under the law.

So your relatives from Muslim countries could meet their new grandkid.

I voted so you could have better education.

So you could have better access to testing for COVID-19.

So you could return to “life as normal” sooner rather than later.

I voted so science could dictate guidelines and conspiracy theories didn’t.

I voted so we could take care of each other.

So my black and brown friends know that I believe their lives matter.

So our future doesn’t seem so grim.

Because ultimately, I want all of us to do better and be better. 

I’ve learned through the last few years that facts, processes, procedures and the will of the American people are not enough for some. I’ve also learned that debating with those who want to refute the sky being blue is a pointless endeavor.

The age of disinformation persists. It’s ugly. It nearly brought the downfall of our democracy. It doesn’t deter from Biden’s win.

It will not just magically go away to some new social media channel. But, I can do my best to provide relevant, factual information to those willing to learn more or adjust the hill they are willing to die on.

Dave Chappelle hosted Saturday Night Live this past weekend.

As a side note, I’m always in awe of how quickly creators can change scripts based on current events. As networks declared Joe Biden the President-elect, they had only hours to come up with new skits and scripts. 

Chappelle certainly has a knack for stinging comedy that reflects the current temperature of the country and he did not disappoint with his opening monologue, something I rewatched again last night. 

“Remember when I was here four years ago, how bad that felt? Remember that half the country right now still feels that way,” he said.

“Remember for the first time in the history of America, the life expectancy of white people is dropping because of heroin, suicide.”

“All these white people that feel that anguish, that pain, they’re mad because they think nobody cares. Maybe they don’t. Let me tell you something: I know how that feels, I promise you, I know how that feels. A police officer, every time you put your uniform on, you feel like you got a target on your back. You’re appalled by the ingratitude when you would risk your life to save them. Oh man, believe me. Believe me, I know how that feels. Everyone knows how that feels.”

“But here’s the difference between me and you: You guys hate each other for that. And I don’t hate anybody. I just hate that feeling. That’s what I fight through. That’s what I suggest you fight through. You’ve got to find a way to live your life and forgive each other. You’ve got to find a way to find a way to find joy in your existence, in spite of the feeling.”

That struck me. Hard. 

I will not go on a diatribe about allowing racists to get away with saying their morals and the way they view another person is just a “difference of opinion.” 

“It is not our differences that divide us. It is our inability to recognize, accept, and celebrate those differences.

Audre Lorde

But I will offer you this – in the throes of election anxiety this past summer and perhaps offering a glimpse into how nervous I was moving to an island during the middle of a pandemic, I sat in the middle of a Target parking lot talking to my therapist about how I felt over the phone.

That’s nothing revealing, Caroline. She’s your therapist. You pay her to talk about your damn feelings.

Ah, yes. But more specifically, I talked about how he makes me feel.

I admitted to her and myself that the way he speaks about minorities, the way he disregards women, the way he callously shrugs at lives lost, makes me feel something I don’t often feel.

Hate. 

And I hated him for it. 

It drudged up feelings I, quite literally, have never felt before.

And ohhhhhh, I hated him for that. 

I hated me for it.

These were emotions I didn’t know how to deal with because I hadn’t felt them before and before I could accurately express that it felt gross, my therapist reminded me why.

“Because this isn’t you. You don’t like how it feels, because it isn’t you.”

Damn, I’m glad I pay people who are smarter than me to break things down.

I didn’t like it because on a visceral level, I knew these hateful feelings would devour me whole if I continued down that powerful path. You can be fueled by justice but not by hate for another person.

“I imagine one of the reasons people cling to their hates so stubbornly is because they sense, once hate is gone, they will be forced to deal with pain.”

James Baldwin, The Fire Next Time

So, I stopped and reminded myself of what was and wasn’t in my control. To deal with the pain his actions were causing.

As we’ve all learned, we can’t control a madman destined to prop his narcissistic self up on the back of the very country in which he calls himself the leader. 

I can have some sense of control with how proactive and reactive I am to his hate.

That’s when I decided to write. Oh, and did I write and write and write.  

That’s when I broke my years-long social media hiatus of talking about Trump and the election specifically. 

I went back and forth about how much of it was yelling into an echo chamber and reminded myself that if even one person didn’t feel so alone in who they were voting for, then it was worth it. 

And boy, was it worth it.

I caught a glimpse of democracy in action. People reaching out expressing their respectful opinions. Friends busting through comfort zones with a nod for the nudge talking about it gave them. Freedom lovers volunteering their precious time to get out the vote.

What I saw was others standing up to hate in their own ways. 

Because those of us who do remember how it felt four years ago, did not want to feel that way ever again and even on the very basic of levels, we know how the other side is feeling today. 

(That statement does not repudiate the hateful rhetoric that is often spewed by people who mimic their leader.)

But what I’m hoping it does, is remind us of the fear we felt that day and how much worse it could have been again after this election. Know–whether right or wrong–others are very much feeling that way today.

And I want better for them. Which is why I voted the way I did. 

You will not catch me raising a Biden flag outside our household. You won’t see a “Biden 2020 – Fuck Your Feelings” bumper sticker on the back of my car. I won’t be wearing a t-shirt painting broad strokes of an entire party by using buzzwords like communist or socialist. 

I will not let hate enter my bones because others are responding hatefully today. I will continue to talk out about the atrocities. Continue to speak about marginalized communities. 

But the hate ends here. With me. With you. With what we continue to do, day after day.

This doesn’t mean that when they go low, we don’t fight back. 

It means our mission doesn’t end here.

Let their hate and disinformation define them.

Let our response and movement define us.