Those of you who know me know that I am a Talker. It’s something I love and loathe about myself. Yes, I’m good at connecting with people. But also, it would be nice to have some capacity to know how I feel about a thing without having to verbalize it first.
In the interest of developing my capacity to button it more often, I decided to morph my Substack, which supported the release of my memoir, Men, Myself, & I: Revelations of an Open Marriage, into a newsletter. This way I can process what occurs to me without talking anyone’s ear off, because nearly every day I find myself pondering some aspect of being human and I want to explore it. Talking is how I’ve always done that…but what if I could write instead?
This week I’ve been thinking about my son turning 12 and the nature of time. Also, the epic failure (?) that was me contacting an ex-boyfriend out of the blue after 22 years, as well as the fear I have about starting my chaplain residency.
My work as a chaplain is another reason I want to write this newsletter. First, because there’s a lot to process. And second, because I believe what happens to one of us happens to all of us. And it could be any of us.
For example, last year I met a 40-year-old woman who spoke little English, whose healthy, 25-year-old daughter had just had a spontaneous stroke and was admitted to the ER without any brain activity. What will life look like for that mom, whose only child has since passed. How will she find services in her native language? How will she grieve?
There was a fifty-something wife who’d finally found true love after years in an abusive marriage. She was understandably hysterical upon arriving at the hospital with her husband, who was burned over 70% of his body due to a preventable accident at home. What will she interpret about her God, whom she perceives allowed that to happen to him? How will she maintain hope for her future…will she?
One of the hardest cases for me to reconcile was teenager who went on a joyride with her friend, not knowing her friend was on drugs. There was an accident, and she hasn’t been able to speak or walk normally since then. Her family lacks the resources to provide the care she needs. What does a full life look like for her now? What opportunities will she have to self-actualize? What will sustain her?
These stories might sound salacious; that is not my intent in sharing them. Rather, I hope readers will consider their own lives, and the fleeting nature of it all.
In addition to writing about my work as a chaplain, I will continue to share about my life as a single woman, mom, daughter, friend, sister, etc.
If you are interested in my memoir, Men, Myself, &I: Revelations of an Opened Marriage, it is now available on Kindle, Audible, and in print. If you read it, I would love if you would also review it—that will help me reach other interested readers.
If you aren’t a paying subscriber to this Substack, you can become one by clicking the link below. It’s $5/month, or you can pay $44 for the whole year.
My hope is that by relating stories of people’s lived experiences, in addition to my own, we will all become more mindful of the nature of life and learn to value it, and each other, more. My wish is that we would all become less fearful and more kind. And that we would recognize our shared experience of tender humanity to expand our sense of belonging.
Thank you for reading, for caring, and for sharing Tender Human with anyone you think would appreciate it.
With love and gratitude,
(*Identifying information will always be changed to protect confidentiality.)
So happy your are sharing your deep, beautiful words and thoughts. Your writing is so honest and alive.