I’m not writing you from a mountain top. That seems to be an unspoken social expectation. People get through things, find themselves in a better space, and then reach back to offer encouragement. If you’re a good capitalist you may even sneak in a profitable “How to…” manual for peace hungry crowds to cling to.
That pressure has been tethering these fingers to my sides for months now without my knowing. (context: I first put together this newsletter in August 2022) I kept anticipating a breather at least, from my own struggles I am currently surviving, to appropriately look back on the valley and reflect on it from a safe distance. *deep exhale* That’s bullshit. Being gifted that safe distance isn’t bullshit. It is precisely that, a gift, but holding that as a standard as some pre-requisite to write about, what are often, unspeakable things is bullshit. I exist in some long standing realities that cause me daily suffering and have no idea when any of those things will be either more manageable or cease to exist. What I have to offer, and the joy offering this to you brings me, can’t wait on that hypothetical day.
So this is me transparently resetting my expectations of what tone this newsletter will carry. At times there will be balancing levity with hard things, other times it will be a portrait of what posture I’m currently sitting in the dark with or an insight I’ve mapped but have yet to fully master myself. Regardless each piece I share - essay, poetry, or a microblogging moment - will hold reassurance that you’re not alone, you’re not exaggerating, and you absolutely deserve care.
Whether you are currently wading through difficult life terrain, are cradling a younger version of yourself that had to survive too much, or both, these writings will be good company for you. How could I possibly know that? Cause it takes a survivor of tragedies to know what words bring balms, when a pause is a breath of fresh air, and what words wrack already too tender wounds.
Here’s to a beginning while set in circumstances I never imagined writing this in. I commit to you that I won’t allow that unhelpful standard, of mountain top life status, be the reason I stop writing about our humanness amidst suffering.
From not a safe distance,
Esperanza Gene
"It takes a survivor of tragedies to know what words bring balms, when a pause is a breath of fresh air, and what words wrack already too tender wounds." - So beautifully written and relatable. I hope to see more writing from you!