Coming Back
Because you always have the opportunity to begin again.
Some of my most painful, vivid memories are of moments when I was too embarrassed to return. Often running away, avoiding, and quitting came with an extra helping of shame and guilt. When the relief wore off, these feelings would get stuck in my throat next to the words I couldn’t string together. Words I desperately needed to make sense of myself and the moment. I now better understand how and why my body, tense and squeamish, would rather turn away than towards uncertainty, more potential hurt, and judgment. Awareness does not mean it gets easier to do and while I have excavated the words, the feelings linger.
To this day, I am so glad my high school soccer coach refused to let me quit. She helped me extract some of those trapped words rather than bury them with a decade of joyful club soccer experience. As a fresh high schooler, she waited as I learned to say how scared I was to play in front of people I knew, next to girls taller and stronger than I would ever be. Travel soccer was easy–you're anonymous, another high ponytail, cleats, and natural talent. That didn't take trial and error. I was either good or I wasn't; I had no clue how to fail and return to face the people I believed I let down. Especially when they were behind me in math class or down the hall.
As I tried to sneakily hand in my jersey, no questions asked, my coach invited me into a conversation. One I really tried to avoid. Instead we sat in discomfort and drafted a plan for me to rock “left bench” while I acclimated to the bigger fields, crowds, and intensity. This story does not end with me scoring a Brandi Chastain penalty kick or even a starting position, but I was there. It was incredibly scary at times. I made so many mistakes in front of people I really cared about. My body and ego sore and bruised. I was there.
I was not always as lucky to find patience and guidance in embarrassment, fear, shame, and doubt and so I have often walked away. From hobbies, friendships, conversations, activities. Like my craft drawer expanding with discarded knitting needles, mod podge, and acrylics, my shame grew. I now know that much of this came from being so deeply scared of embarrassing myself, giving others an opportunity to change their story about me–I am not talented, consistent, eloquent, or cool enough. “Enough” is a big word for me and I am grateful for the many times someone held my hand through the pain of coming back. Confronting the thing I was bad at or the person I was unkind to–so that I can do that now.
With a firmer footing in worthiness, I am coming back to this newsletter after many months and attempts to restart. I have drafts on soup and chopping and gardening; yet your inboxes are empty. I notice all the feelings I shared above when it came to soccer, maintaining real friendships, and most thematically–cooking.
Cooking is where I practice this most often. Sometimes after a hiatus, a vacation or a few too many food deliveries, and other times to a recipe or ingredient I am trying to better understand. I recently really messed up cooking some zucchini that I grew and I felt so deeply wasteful and careless. I didn't want to do that ever again–but I will. So I am returning with the opportunity to start again, to fail, and come back over and over.
Until then! Here is my humble pie with an extra scoop of ice cream. Including some food adjacent things I have been enjoying recently.
A brilliant friend, Olivia Crandall, was published in the most recent edition of Cake Zine where she wrote about pie as a metaphor for rejection on Love Island (we love a food metaphor). Please consider checking out her “low stakes-high joy projects” and hire her for all things creative, writing, and branding!
Sally Siragusa is wrapping up many weeks in Europe where she wrote about food and music in her newsletter, A Little Bit About a Lot. I especially enjoyed the Portal Sandwich review! Check out her work and hire her so she can keep writing and publish her fiction!
My dearest friend, Emily, has guided me through many painful emotions and taught me so much about what it means to be a friend. The most joyous bits and the messiest. She recently sent me two books that were incredibly captivating stories featuring food literature. It should come as no surprise that I really enjoy seeing the relationship of people and food and culture and history crafted into these fictional stories. I set them down feeling inspired to come back to my own words. Check out Black Cake by Charmaine Wilkerson and Maame by Jessica George for more.
I am exploring some more concrete ideas about what words I want to put here so if you can think of any you would like to see in your inbox a few times a month find me at emma@acrowdedtable.net.