.SOMETIMES RAW.

via The New Yorker

We learnt self-pity when we were young. It was a sunny Sunday afternoon; you were 9 years old. Your parents wouldn’t let you have any ice cream unless you did your maths homework. It was achingly unfair. Every other child in the world was playing football or watching television. No one else has such a mean mother. It was just awful. We are all, in theory, dead against self-pity. It seems deeply unattractive because it reveals egoism in its most basic form: the failure to put our own suffering into proper perspective against the larger backdrop of human history. We lament our tiny disasters and look coldly on the grand tragedies of the world. A problem with one’s fringe or a wrongly cooked steak dominates the mind while we ignore work conditions in China, for example.

No one likes to own up to self-pity. And yet, if we are honest, it’s something we feel quite often. And in fact, it’s often a rather sweet emotion. The fact is, we do deserve a great deal more pity than other people are ever very likely to bestow upon us. Life is, in truth, horrendously hard in many ways, even if one does have a top-notch data plan and an elegantly designed fridge. Our talents are never fairly recognised, our best years will necessarily drift away, and we won’t find all the love we need. We deserve pity, and there isn’t anyone else around to give it to us, so we have to give ourselves a fair dose. The operative cause might, from a lofty perspective, seem ridiculous – poor me, I will never drive a Ferrari; it’s so sad, I thought we were going to a Japanese restaurant, and they have booked a pub. But these are just the convenient opportunities for immersing ourselves in a much bigger issue: the fundamental sorrows of existence, for which we do genuinely deserve the most tender compassion.

Imagine what things would be like if we couldn’t pity ourselves. We would be in that far worse category of mental discomfort: depressed. The depressed person is someone who has lost the art of self-pity, who has become too rigorous with themselves. If you think of a parent comforting a child, they often spend hours on a very minor thing: a lost toy, the children’s party to which one was not invited. They are not being ridiculous; they are, in effect, teaching the child how to look after themselves and giving space to the important idea that “small” upsets can have very large internal consequences. Gradually, we learn to mimic this parental attitude with ourselves and come to feel sorry for ourselves when no one else will. It is not necessarily entirely rational, but it is a coping mechanism.

It is a first protective shell, which we develop in order to be able to manage some of the immense disappointments and frustrations that life throws at us. The defensive posture of self-pity is far from contemptible. It is touching and important. Many religions have given expression to this attitude by inventing deities who look with inexpressible pity upon human beings. In Catholicism, for instance, the Virgin Mary is often presented as weeping out of tenderness for the miseries of normal human life. Such kindly beings are really projections of our own need to be pitied.

Self-pity is compassion we extend to ourselves. A more mature aspect of the self turns to the weak and lost parts of the psyche and comforts them, strokes them, tells them it understands and that they are indeed lovely but misunderstood. It allows them to be, for a while, a bit babyish – since that is actually what they are. It provides the undemanding, confirming love that every baby, but far more importantly, every adult, needs to get through the anguish of existence.

The hope is that we can, for a while, turn away from current affairs towards the elevated, the silent, and the eternal. Normally, we are immersed in practical, self-justifying outlooks that are the hallmarks of what we could call “lower” consciousness. At such moments, the world reveals itself as quite different: a place of suffering and misguided effort, full of people striving to be heard and lashing out against others, but also a place of tenderness and longing, beauty and touching vulnerability. One’s own life feels less precious; one can contemplate being no longer present with tranquility. One’s interests are put aside, and one may imaginatively fuse with transient or natural things: trees, the wind, clouds, nature, or waves breaking on the shore. From this point of view, status is nothing, possessions don’t matter, and grievances lose their urgency. If certain people could encounter us at this point, they might be amazed at our transformation and at our newfound generosity and empathy.

Fusing with nature might help and is probably better than doomscrolling Instagram or the news while stress-eating chocolate. When I feel down, I return to (and share) my go-to strategies for resetting whenever things feel particularly heavy.

Unplug (No Really, Put the Phone Down)

We were not designed to mainline news and information 24/7. Try this: set a timer for 30 minutes of phone-free time. Go for a walk without it. Leave it in another room while you eat dinner. Delete the news apps or social media for a day or a weekend. Whatever helps you break the scroll-panic-scroll cycle. 

Focus on Your Actual Sphere of Influence

This takes practice but I’m trying to focus my attention on my actual sphere of influence – the tiny actions I can take each day that can make a real impact. This can be as tiny as being kind to the people I encounter at the grocery store, spending quality time with my kid before bed, or helping a friend.

Try a Flow State Activity 

Flow state is when you become so absorbed in an activity that your brain stops spinning and time disappears. For some people, it’s working on a giant puzzle, baking a pie from scratch, or getting lost in a craft project. I find flow when I’m cleaning out my closet or reorganizing a junk drawer. Figure out what works for you now, so you have it ready when you need it most.

Get Up and Move

When I had a hard time at work, I have a strong pull to stay on the couch, be grumpy, and eat foods that are terrible for my body. Sometimes I succumb, but whenever possible, I push myself to get outside and move – some fresh air and a walk around the neighborhood, a yoga class, jogging, or a walk with a friend. It always helps. 

Write Write Write

Writing has always been deeply therapeutic for me. It’s a way of cleaning out my brain, downloading the swirl, and (sometimes / often) gaining clarity and perspective. I just set a blank notebook on my desk and have started writing a few pages each morning when I wake up, but most often in the evening.

Be So Nice to Yourself

Don’t skip this one. When things get stressful, self-care can go straight out the window. Now is the time to practice good boundaries, self-compassion, stay hydrated, eat well, and rest up. 

Watch a Comfort Show

Sometimes you really do just need to curl up into a ball and fully check out. For those times, I recommend plugging into a great show or movie that feels like a warm hug. Taking all the recs.

So, to bring a bit of positivity to everything, focus on what you are doing with your life right now. How are your relationships going? What are your backup plans? What do you value and why? We should make the most of them when they arise and harvest their insights for the time when we require them most. And, the surest way to correct faulty thinking is the repetition of concise, constructive, harmonious thoughts. Now, cheer up, buttercup.

During my careers over the past 25 years, I’ve developed a few strong work beliefs. For example: Always have hard conversations in person, not over email. Take all your vacation, and stay home if you are sick. Everything takes forever, so factor in more time than you think you’ll need. Obviously, there are many others but what is the #1 career lesson I’ve learned and the thing I teach my colleagues to do? The big takeaway I hope my kid will absorb? Here it is, and once you do it, it becomes easy…

Say a kind and firm no.

I say no allllllll day long, and I have zero emotions around it. People want a lot of things, and that’s great! They should ask for them! I ask them for things, too! But that doesn’t mean we all owe each other everything, just because we want stuff. You need to guard your time and bandwidth, and it’s absolutely fine to say yes or no to whatever is asked of you.

Saying no does NOT mean you’re ungenerous or unkind to others; it simply means you are careful with what you agree to take on. And when you say no, you can say bigger yeses!

Here’s one way to think about it: You have a certain amount of “coins” of time and bandwidth per day, and it’s up to you how you spend them. You wouldn’t give money to everyone who asked, and in the same way, you don’t need to give your help or time or energy just because people ask. If someone wants you to look over their resume, and that takes two coins, do you have two coins to spare? If yes, go ahead and share those coins. But if not — if you’re saving those two coins for prepping for a meeting, or hanging out with your family, or even just staring at the ceiling — say a kind no. Your time and bandwidth are valuable and limited and 100% yours to spend.

For any recovering people pleasers: please know that people can absolutely handle the small disappointment of having you say no to their requests. Respect them and trust that they will be just fine! We believe in them! I once had a smart, wonderful friend who got twisted in knots because she listed an armoire on Facebook Marketplace, and a bunch of people replied, but she could only give the armoire to one of them. I assured her that those who did not get the armoire would be able to handle it. They could move forward, armoire-less, and still have a nice life. Plus, it’s not her — or your or my — responsibility to manage other people’s emotions, which is a lesson I’ve spent a lot of my life learning.

I think it’s especially important for women to learn to say no, easily and often, since we can often feel immense pressure to serve others. It gets easier and easier as you practice, and once you get good at it? Honestly, it feels like freedom.

Here are a few “no” phrases to have in your back pocket, if you need them:

Someone invites you to a party/dinner/event and you don’t have the bandwidth:

This sounds like so much fun, but sadly I’m not free!

I can’t make it that night, but please think of me next time.

I have unbreakable plans* that night, unfortunately, but have the best time.

Someone wants to crash at your place but you don’t have the bandwidth:

I can’t host this month, but I’d love to see you when you’re here.

I am not able to host right now, but want me to recommend a few cute Airbnbs?

I can’t host this month, but please reach out again in the future. I love you!

Someone wants you to help with their work, but you don’t have the bandwidth:

Sadly, I’m not doing any side projects at the moment because of time constraints, but thanks for thinking of me.

I promised myself I wouldn’t take on anything else right now (bc of other commitments), so I have to pass, but I hope it goes so well.

Unfortunately, I’m booked up with my own stuff right now, but I’d love to help next time if the timing works!

* taking a hot bath, going out for ice cream, or reading in bed all count as unbreakable plans

Sometimes you’ll hear people say, “Just say yes, and you’ll figure it out. Just take the opportunity.” I’m like, “No. You can say no. Maybe you should say no a lot.” I’ve said no so many times. If I hadn’t, I wouldn’t have a job. So many people ask you for things constantly. Just find a kind and gracious way to say no, and say it over and over and over until there’s something you feel will really bring you value or there’s a real reason for doing it. But definitely don’t say yes to everything. That’s bananas advice. Get good at saying no.

Thoughts? How do you feel about saying no?

via Bleubird

Greetings, and Happy New Year.

I hope your break was restorative in whatever way you needed most. Heartwarming, soul-mending, surrounded by the people you like and love, or at the very least, a moment of stillness and quiet. We have one last day with our tree in full glory before I begin operation breakdown, efficiently wiping all evidence of the holidays from our home. I’m usually sad to see it go, but I feel ready. Ready for normalcy, for routine, and for the small pleasure of things moving back where they belong.

I gave up on New Year’s resolutions many years ago. The demand for sudden, total self-improvement on January 1st seems absurd and somewhat punitive, and the guilt that follows when a novella of change attempted all at once inevitably fails is never worth the effort. Instead, I keep a small set of intentions that I return to or may need reinforcement. Without further ado…

Showing up for myself

I’m good at showing up for people I care about. I lend a hand or an ear or can offer advice when it’s needed and do it even on days I’d rather not. I take a certain pride in that. 

Where I struggle is in extending the same discipline to myself. This year, I want to keep my own promises with equal seriousness. If I say I’m going to do something, I do it. I take my own advice. I schedule the appointments, book the class, do the work, and show up for myself daily, without negotiation. 

Four things

This is a practice I started in 2024 and one I’ve come to rely on. It helps me get things done and, more importantly, show up for myself. Most days, it keeps me productive. On the harder ones, it keeps overwhelming from taking the wheel. My daily to-do list allows space for only four things. That’s it.

The first is nonnegotiable. Something that needs immediate attention, usually work-related or time-sensitive. It’s something that keeps my family and me on track or a step closer to whatever comes next. It sits at the top of the list because it can’t be ignored. It’s one thing. Do it. Do it first.

The second is the things I’ve been avoiding. The doctor’s appointment. Garden and house projects to come. A return that needs to be dropped off before the window closes. The phone call that will take an hour, when I feel like I don’t have an hour to spend. 

The third is mine. Call it self-care if you want. Time spent in the kitchen prepping meals to make the evenings run smoothly. Doing nothing but drinking a cup of tea and reading my book on the couch. The deep-tissue Thai massage my back’s been begging for. Finishing my writing. Meeting a friend for a hike. Something chosen deliberately as a reminder that life is not only what needs doing. 

Four: Planning and making 2026 a travel & explore year. Destinations like Paris, New York, and Japan are on the 100% list.

Four things. That’s it. Everything else waits down below, patiently for another day and another list of four. More often than not, ticking those four boxes leaves me feeling accomplished enough to keep going. And sometimes, that’s when the real work begins.

A daily recap

I’ve always been able to keep a proper diary, journal, or this blog for years. In 2026, I want to take it easy. My last book, The Average of all Possible Things, was published in 2025, and I’ve let go of whatever expectations I’d attached to book writing for now. Whatever happens will happen, but I won’t force anything. It is fine if it is just a small pause at the end of the day to take stock and write down a few words. No full sentences required. 

Here are my entries so far:

1/1/2026: Started the year laughing with friends. Hoping it ends the same. Bed at 2am, oops. fruit for breakfast. Watched Pretty in Pink (1986). Not hungover since I celebrate sobriety for 3 years, but still napped in the afternoon. A lovely lazy day. HNY!

2/1/2026: Worked on my blog. Feeling motivated to push myself and make this year my bitch. Planned a couple of vacations for 2026. Thought about attending an Ashtanga Yoga Retreat. Vitisted my bookstore and bought many books. Duh! Spent the afternoon/evening reading.

3/1/2026: Woke up at 9 am. Had a nice breakfast and chat with my parents. Quiet morning with the X-mas tree and family. Indoor Playground with Joel, my sister and her kids. Joel yelling and then crying. Going to bed early.

4/1/2026: Laundry is done. Favorite sweatshirt is clean. Bought curtains online. Wrote for hours. Made lunch and dinner with mom. A good day.

That is all for now, but I will be here sooner rather than later—I made a promise to myself. 😉 

Happy New Year, and as always, thank you for reading! Don’t take yourself and life too seriously.

xx

P.S. Please share a goal or intention of yours with the class. I love this shit!