The Nora McInerny Kind of Beautiful Ones

 Oh, Gigi.

Thank you, from Louisville. Thank you for being so so vulnerable and real. I was SO mad. I was at a 10. I didn’t know you until today. I didn't know "How" I was. And I was TERRIBLE, thanks for asking. I am part of TheTerribleClub.

I overshare. It took me a week of insomnia and, like, until I was today years old to understand that, simply put, the way I write is just literally how I process. And, man. It’s fast.

It’s not easy! My brain is active to the point of affliction. It isn't a flaw -- nor is it something to flaunt.

But, this is why I have struggled. This is that thing that is the very hell of my fiery damnation here on earth. I thought maybe Chronic Illness was too difficult to speak about, because of the stigma. But, it dawned on me after one of my all-nighters, that I wasn't only afraid of the stigma from the world around me, but also the stigma around how I saw myself.

I want to be the BEST me I can be, and I have the space to explore that because of things like privilege/ luck and support. Is it MY job to care about how this tone of voice “lands” within my conservatism heavy, more traditional community? No. Because I’m not Gigi. I'm not Nora. I'm not Breonna, nor am I as polished and impassioned as her champion, and Louisville's favorite poet, Hannah Drake.

I’m going to decompress / put crap in boxes / do what Nora does.

My Soulmates and parents can’t always understand me. I get moody. But they love me, support me, and want me to be happy, fulfilled and to accept love and be OKAY. But if you’re me on a good day, you want to process it with a deep dive. Whatever it is -- Write it. Call YO therapist, like, now. (Maybe Joey told Ellyn to warn me that red flags exist, but that Rabia is too busy to talk right now... She and Collin Miller both liked a couple of my tweets. This is so, so cool. But this is not as good as it gets. It's not as good as it's going to get.)

Passion feels like danger because it’s really hard to ADVOCATE. I cant be Hannah Drake because I’m not Breonna Taylor. What is this, though? What is bubbling within me?

Is it Donald Trump rage? Too much Tucker Carlson?? January 6th hearings? Or COVID. Or stress.

For so long now, I needed to find my own voice. I can talk your ear off if I’m amped up. But maybe we don’t communicate enough, or you’re just too busy to talk.

Breathe. I can relax. I don’t have to word vomit my problems onto my friend Patrick while he is trying to help other authors. Instead. I can slow down. Slow down.

I've had a Manic Monday. I am trying new sleep meds. What else do you want to know? I struggle because I am a WOMAN, just like Nora and Rabia and everyone f-ing else.

As an aside, I love cussing but I hate to be crude. Self says, Be professional! It's Your Initial Post of Your NEW BIG BLOG. It could become a tv show. A documentary. The basis for a podcast. A new blog could lead me to a calm, productive writing career. I don’t want to sound condescending to my readers. Hey, I am new at this. And maybe I'm dreaming to big. Secretly, maybe, just maybe, I can dream as big as I want. Let the Women Do the Work.

It’s not that hard to compartmentalize my pain. I don’t have to do things a certain way. I’m human and lost sometimes. And also?

I'm #bipolar.

Sometimes, I'm terrible. Thanks, Nora, for asking. And thanks again Gigi, for helping me get the jawbreaker out of my head.