Elissa, wow. Your skillfulness at holding and acknowledging the gravity of being alive in this world alongside the tenderness and compassion in connection... it validates pain and grief without losing - I want to say hope, but it feels too trite. Without losing... perspective. Reminders of the hands we hold throughout our lives. Thank you.
This is exactly what I needed today, Elissa. Thank you so much. Not only the recipe, but the recognition and languaging of what it is to live in this traumatized body and why we write so urgently and obsessively like we do.
Thank you for putting such eloquent words to feelings i have had and feel. i am in the final stages of editing my memoir and you described so perfectly why Ive spent so many years unraveling my life with words...... "We do it to uncoil our stories, to know our truths, to understand who we are through the specter of who we, and the people around us, once were. To make order from chaos. " Thank you for reminding me I am safe. You are my helper.
So many of us are getting so tired. It's almost like a collective exhaustion. Lots of women I know (of a certain age) are really taking the bull by the horns and saying 'NO THANKS!' Life is ridiculously busy, and how in the name of all that is good are we in December already!? Didn't we just do Christmas? And then the madness of this time of year - the frenzied shopping, the crazy spending, the overeating and over-drinking and the over-everything.
Simplicity is the answer.
Appreciate those people we love.
Take time for ourselves.
And eat humbly.
I love your miso soup recipe. I had an amazing bowl of ramen the other week that was like an inside hug.
Savory food is a comfort to me, especially now as the world smolders, and my love and I are traveling, without a home base. Dislocation of a kind I thought no longer possible. So I thank you again for your clarity and the gift of this recipe..
Just beautiful, and spoke to me where I am currently. I have plans for miso and rice for breakfast now, and will think of this place and my own home which grounds me. 💜
Oh, yay, this is so very good... Just waking up from surgery from a grand mal seizure during which I nearly decapitated myself on our “Oh-look-it’s-deadly! Let’s buy it!” coffee table that I thought was so cute on Amazon. I will be wired shut for the next six weeks, so soups are perf. The phrase "Am I safe here?" has morphed into "Am I safe in here? Or in me?" Before they send you home, the swallowing therapist(?) bestows upon you these dead-sharp clippers... Little helpers in case you find yourself alone and choking and need to cut the wiring. They are sinister to regard, you could easily see them as inciting objects in an Ottessa Moshfegh story. Right now, the bones of a story live on my stack, but they are more satire and rage and lack the gravity you achieve so effortlessly here.
You remind me I am scared beyond words of having a medical emergency requiring long term care. All our savings went to providing mental healthcare for our son. We are destitute, living in a house we can't afford, not knowing what to hope for.
So easy to withdraw from others when you know that your opinions differ so violently. You feel as though you have to guard every word.Hard to trust others and it is a lonely way to exist. “Look for the helpers”. Wonderful advice.
Elissa, wow. Your skillfulness at holding and acknowledging the gravity of being alive in this world alongside the tenderness and compassion in connection... it validates pain and grief without losing - I want to say hope, but it feels too trite. Without losing... perspective. Reminders of the hands we hold throughout our lives. Thank you.
This one went right to my heart, right to my bones. Every word. Thank you. And I love miso soup! Will try this recipe.
Feeling the same way. But there are many of us and we’ll take each other by the hand and walk forward and say yes, we do belong here.
True and beautiful
Beautiful & brilliant!
This is exactly what I needed today, Elissa. Thank you so much. Not only the recipe, but the recognition and languaging of what it is to live in this traumatized body and why we write so urgently and obsessively like we do.
Thank you for putting such eloquent words to feelings i have had and feel. i am in the final stages of editing my memoir and you described so perfectly why Ive spent so many years unraveling my life with words...... "We do it to uncoil our stories, to know our truths, to understand who we are through the specter of who we, and the people around us, once were. To make order from chaos. " Thank you for reminding me I am safe. You are my helper.
So many of us are getting so tired. It's almost like a collective exhaustion. Lots of women I know (of a certain age) are really taking the bull by the horns and saying 'NO THANKS!' Life is ridiculously busy, and how in the name of all that is good are we in December already!? Didn't we just do Christmas? And then the madness of this time of year - the frenzied shopping, the crazy spending, the overeating and over-drinking and the over-everything.
Simplicity is the answer.
Appreciate those people we love.
Take time for ourselves.
And eat humbly.
I love your miso soup recipe. I had an amazing bowl of ramen the other week that was like an inside hug.
Thanks for your words.
Have a blessed Christmas xx
Savory food is a comfort to me, especially now as the world smolders, and my love and I are traveling, without a home base. Dislocation of a kind I thought no longer possible. So I thank you again for your clarity and the gift of this recipe..
I felt every word of this. Thank you. ❤️
Beautiful. I ache with you. Too much of everything and yet... eating rice or a bowl of soup with loved ones can set things right for a moment.
Just beautiful, and spoke to me where I am currently. I have plans for miso and rice for breakfast now, and will think of this place and my own home which grounds me. 💜
Thank you. I loved reading this. And thank you for reintroducing me to the word 'feeble'. It's been years since I've used.
Oh, yay, this is so very good... Just waking up from surgery from a grand mal seizure during which I nearly decapitated myself on our “Oh-look-it’s-deadly! Let’s buy it!” coffee table that I thought was so cute on Amazon. I will be wired shut for the next six weeks, so soups are perf. The phrase "Am I safe here?" has morphed into "Am I safe in here? Or in me?" Before they send you home, the swallowing therapist(?) bestows upon you these dead-sharp clippers... Little helpers in case you find yourself alone and choking and need to cut the wiring. They are sinister to regard, you could easily see them as inciting objects in an Ottessa Moshfegh story. Right now, the bones of a story live on my stack, but they are more satire and rage and lack the gravity you achieve so effortlessly here.
I can't even.... such beautiful writing.
You remind me I am scared beyond words of having a medical emergency requiring long term care. All our savings went to providing mental healthcare for our son. We are destitute, living in a house we can't afford, not knowing what to hope for.
I’m so sorry
So easy to withdraw from others when you know that your opinions differ so violently. You feel as though you have to guard every word.Hard to trust others and it is a lonely way to exist. “Look for the helpers”. Wonderful advice.
And even when your opinions don’t differ, or only barely. We live in fighting times.