Yes, 2020 was a shit show.
There was significant change, mind-boggling loss, and a collective grief that we will continue to experience for the forseeable future.
The COVID-19 pandemic has brought to the surface many unpleasant things about our society, especially which bodies we consider to be valuable and which ones we're willing to sacrifice.
And still, there was some good to come out of this year.
I have a fraught relationship with the word 'health'. I cringe every time I hear it. I hate writing it or saying it out loud.
Of course, it's not the actual 6-letter word that annoys me. It's the way we use it:
As a weapon against people who don't have the 'right' bodies
To persuade us to buy things we don't really need.
To deny people access to resources and care
What if you could start off the new year feeling like you are enough already?
What if you realized that there's no need for a new diet, a new workout plan, or any other body-shrinking strategy?
The idea that we can start off a new year being satisfied with ourselves is a radical one because we’ve been made to believe that we're not enough and that we should constantly search outside of ourselves for worthiness and validation.
This is inspired by a post I read by Isabel Abbott about how we speak about writing. How it's romanticized, angst-ified, or treated like a thing that can be done only when the right muses are whispering in your ear.
But writing can be ordinary. It can just be a thing like any other thing. It can be like it is now for me...sitting at the dining room table, legs crossed, knees soon to be hurting, and listening to the clothes get tossed around in the dryer.
I like this idea of writing the ordinary...of listening to my life and putting what I hear on to a blank page.
The ordinary can be interesting. It can be a place of newness and discovery.