This post is so helpful. I’m in Los Angeles, but in an area that is unaffected by the fires except for smoke that wafts in and out day by day. I wrote a whole newsletter article about how I’m feeling and then put it in the trash because I felt so conflicted about sharing my feelings. This post encourages me to reconsider, to push through my uncomfortable feelings, and figure out what I really want/need to say at this strange, surreal moment. Thank you
I hope you will, Emmy. Like I said above, I almost did the same with my FB post. But then I posted and it's gotten a lot of comments from people I haven't heard from in a long time—like the dad of a friend of mine from childhood. You just never know who you'll touch and connect with. Drag that thing out of the trash, my friend!
Brooke, You are right about going beyond the phrase “no words can describe.”One must find the courage and the words to express the shock and horror of what is really behind this phrase so others can understand. And that is a challenge.
Beautiful! This is universally encouraging and applicable across so many of the domains of our lives. Personally, thank you. Your words strike deep emotions and invite me to dig even further.
I too feel disappointed when someone says “no words” when referring to a death or other profound tragedy. I get it, the inadequacy in the face of the immensity of feeling. Your piece is a beautiful and compassionate encouragement to get over it, dig through to what we as humans are so good at—experiencing and expressing.
I found your post to be thought-provoking, Brooke. Reflecting on the moments I've struggled the most to find words lives in the present tense of trauma. My words never felt big enough or clear enough to explain what my eyes were seeing or my heart was feeling. The past tense of trauma, when it's safely in the rearview window, seems to loosen the grip on my words. My body relaxes, my mind slows and the words return to me. I'm not sure if that is a universal truth, but that is how I experience it.
Only now am I learning to be vulnerable enough to loosen the (self-imposed) expectations of making my words "enough" to just write something in the present moment.
This is the last, best, most helpful and inspiring thing I needed to hear before heading into a 3-day solo writing retreat to make headway on my memoir project. 🙏🏼
I really appreciated what you wrote. For me, I haven't been able to work on my memoir this past week, and I'm taking a break from publishing my weekly newsletter tomorrow, because I'm in management/crisis mode caring for my in-laws who lost everything in their "forever home" in the Palisades, plus helping my 26-year-old daughter recover from a complex surgery she had last week due to a ski accident. My brain is focused on scanning housing listings for my in-laws (they're in a hotel now, and the reality they're homeless is setting in) while staying attuned to the news and alerts on the Watch Duty app, and supporting my husband who's in LA and worn out and emotional from his parents' situation. I go to LA on Thursday to help my daughter, who'll be on crutches for months, transition from our home in Colorado back to her home there, which also stresses me out, but I'm eager to get there and spend time with my in-laws in person. The point is, I can't focus on myself and my stories now. My heart is not in my writing. It'll be there waiting for me when we get past the first phase of this—when danger has subsided and my in-laws have housing—but for now, it feels like a privilege I can't afford.
Sooo helpful! Yes, the LA fires are a colossal catastrophe and so close to home. I'm in Nocal but I lived in LA for a number of yrs. It's full of memories. Brilliant things happened there and very bad things too. But this event drives home for me (yet again!) how close any of us are at any given moment to life threatening disasters. And it reminds me today to never ever take for granted this one precious life and all my blessings and gifts. 🙏🏻 Relative to writing, this I needed to hear; "In other words, you’re showing people two things—how you feel, and how you write about how you feel. Both things can be scary as shit to do!" Exactly! You're totally exposed in both ways! 👍🏻
This post is so helpful. I’m in Los Angeles, but in an area that is unaffected by the fires except for smoke that wafts in and out day by day. I wrote a whole newsletter article about how I’m feeling and then put it in the trash because I felt so conflicted about sharing my feelings. This post encourages me to reconsider, to push through my uncomfortable feelings, and figure out what I really want/need to say at this strange, surreal moment. Thank you
I hope you will, Emmy. Like I said above, I almost did the same with my FB post. But then I posted and it's gotten a lot of comments from people I haven't heard from in a long time—like the dad of a friend of mine from childhood. You just never know who you'll touch and connect with. Drag that thing out of the trash, my friend!
Your Sunday posts are always something I look forward to. Thank you for today's encouragement - it definitely landed over here.
I'm glad, Phaedra. I appreciate you reading on Sundays!
Brooke, You are right about going beyond the phrase “no words can describe.”One must find the courage and the words to express the shock and horror of what is really behind this phrase so others can understand. And that is a challenge.
It is indeed a challenge. Really hard, and hard to push past our judgments of not doing it well enough too.
Also to subject oneself to the judgments of others.
This is an important reminder for me in my writing life. Thank you, Brooke.
You make such an important point. Thanks for sharing this. Ugh, it's utter devastation.
Yes. Brilliant.
oh man! thank you for this. every time I get to hard place writing about a huge loss, I'll remember this. xx
Beautiful! This is universally encouraging and applicable across so many of the domains of our lives. Personally, thank you. Your words strike deep emotions and invite me to dig even further.
I too feel disappointed when someone says “no words” when referring to a death or other profound tragedy. I get it, the inadequacy in the face of the immensity of feeling. Your piece is a beautiful and compassionate encouragement to get over it, dig through to what we as humans are so good at—experiencing and expressing.
Stunning. Pure stunning.
Nailed it.
I found your post to be thought-provoking, Brooke. Reflecting on the moments I've struggled the most to find words lives in the present tense of trauma. My words never felt big enough or clear enough to explain what my eyes were seeing or my heart was feeling. The past tense of trauma, when it's safely in the rearview window, seems to loosen the grip on my words. My body relaxes, my mind slows and the words return to me. I'm not sure if that is a universal truth, but that is how I experience it.
Only now am I learning to be vulnerable enough to loosen the (self-imposed) expectations of making my words "enough" to just write something in the present moment.
I'm glad it was helpful, Jo. It's very hard when you're living it. I like the idea of loosening the expectations. Yes, yes, yes.
This is the last, best, most helpful and inspiring thing I needed to hear before heading into a 3-day solo writing retreat to make headway on my memoir project. 🙏🏼
Have a wonderful retreat, Catherine!
I really appreciated what you wrote. For me, I haven't been able to work on my memoir this past week, and I'm taking a break from publishing my weekly newsletter tomorrow, because I'm in management/crisis mode caring for my in-laws who lost everything in their "forever home" in the Palisades, plus helping my 26-year-old daughter recover from a complex surgery she had last week due to a ski accident. My brain is focused on scanning housing listings for my in-laws (they're in a hotel now, and the reality they're homeless is setting in) while staying attuned to the news and alerts on the Watch Duty app, and supporting my husband who's in LA and worn out and emotional from his parents' situation. I go to LA on Thursday to help my daughter, who'll be on crutches for months, transition from our home in Colorado back to her home there, which also stresses me out, but I'm eager to get there and spend time with my in-laws in person. The point is, I can't focus on myself and my stories now. My heart is not in my writing. It'll be there waiting for me when we get past the first phase of this—when danger has subsided and my in-laws have housing—but for now, it feels like a privilege I can't afford.
It will be waiting for you, yes. We have to be where we can be. Thinking about you.
Following your craft chat lesson on expressing your feelings last year, I’ve been trying to dig deep. It can help to meditate.
Sooo helpful! Yes, the LA fires are a colossal catastrophe and so close to home. I'm in Nocal but I lived in LA for a number of yrs. It's full of memories. Brilliant things happened there and very bad things too. But this event drives home for me (yet again!) how close any of us are at any given moment to life threatening disasters. And it reminds me today to never ever take for granted this one precious life and all my blessings and gifts. 🙏🏻 Relative to writing, this I needed to hear; "In other words, you’re showing people two things—how you feel, and how you write about how you feel. Both things can be scary as shit to do!" Exactly! You're totally exposed in both ways! 👍🏻