Maybe not every hardship needs to be turned into a narrative of growth. Maybe some of it just is. Sometimes it just fcking sucks, and it’s just part of being human.
My deepest prayer is to get better and return to the work I love — sharing my story, saving lives, and building communities again. But I’m learning to trust that, like Suleika Jaouad, I can write through the pain and, when the clouds part, shape my thoughts into something lasting: a memoir for Barney that tells him who I am, what I’ve loved, what I’ve struggled with, and what I believe in.
This won’t be a very introspective email—I’m not feeling well. The main update is that my viral numbers have come down, which is encouraging.
Self-attunement is about listening inward, without losing the ability to stay present with others. Self-absorption, on the other hand, is a loop of over-focusing on oneself—which can lead to behaviors like distraction, defensiveness, interpreting, assuming, and judging. Both are common human experiences. However, one brings connection. The other builds walls.
Hope and realism aren’t opposites. I’m learning to carry them side by side.
I’m also learning that expansion and contraction will be part of my life from now on (and it always was, but I didn’t pay as much attention to it).
“This is so hard. Please help me get through this. Please get me to the other side. But please… can I just get a break?”
The message I got, surprisingly clear, was: ‘Fight through your writing.’ And suddenly, I felt better.
For the first time in 15 months, I’ve been able to meditate again—something I haven’t been able to do since delivering Barney.
Today the results came back. Worst case scenario: I am experiencing severe kidney rejection. But here’s the thing: my doctors are optimistic. They caught this early.
These moments—like my first shower and meal—were not the triumphant milestones I expected. Instead, they highlighted the unpredictability of my new normal and how my experience of anticipatory cognition has shifted.
I don’t think people talk enough about the fleeting nature of immense gratitude and the sadness that comes with its fading. It creeps up in a walk or a moment, where gratitude and the recognition that it’s leaving come together. We also don’t talk about the slow, gradual mourning that follows as the mundane day-to-day life returns.