A wee introduction... and where did all the sunshine go?
A wee introduction... and where did all the sunshine go?
Oh, hello. What are the chances of running into you here?
This is Love Letters š by Jen Kaarlo, a newsletter about looking for love in the big, bad city while being a bit too loud and overly verklempt.
If this bright red newsletter has landed in your inbox you can consider yourself one of my nearest and dearest. While I almost always have more than enough to gab about Iāve realised how Iāve stopped writing for longer than Iād like to admit.
I can chalk it up to any (or all of) the following:
Getting too consumed in the day job and binging reruns of Brooklyn99 at night
Wondering if anyone would even bother to read yet another email in their inbox
Recognising that while I talk a big game, I am in fact, afraid of online haters
Feeling that unless every aspect of this new project is perfect that it canāt go outā¦
Then I had one of those all too powerful shower thoughts and it was something along the lines of, āJen, this narrative is exhausting. Just do it, see where it lands, and go from there. Besides, you were just told by your friends how they appreciated how you saw the world.ā
Iām not sure if itās just me but I feel like Iāve shrunk in this pandemic world and am still trying to figure out where I belong nowā¦ and what I want to say. The sun may be shining and there isnāt a face mask in sight, but it now feels like a lot of us are coming to terms with how challenging the last two years have been.
While I wake up most mornings with boatloads of gratitude and optimism, I begrudgingly rolled out of bed today with the attitude of Oscar the Grouch. After making a monster coffee I determined I wouldnāt let my shit attitude get the best of me and decided to tap into why I was feeling this way. So, I made another coffee, put on a pair of jazzy metallic shorts, and went out into the heartbeat of the city.
It was the most amazing thing, I got to my co-working space and had a conversation that was no longer than ten minutes but totally invigorated me. And, it just so happened that I discovered others were feeling the same way as me. Iāve been calling it āPost-Pandemic PTSDā but never really spoke about it outside of my close friends and family.
I had been relating this subpar feeling to the time I walked from London to Brighton for a charity trek a handful of years ago. This journey was full of mixed emotions, but it was long and arduous. It wasnāt until about 10 hours after we crossed the finish line that I realised how physically and mentally taxing of an experience it had been. I was stronger for having gone through it and donāt regret the trip in the slightest, but Iām not keen on ever doing it again. I think of the years of Lady Ronaās reign as some of the best and worst of my life and I donāt regret what has unfolded since March 2020 but I do recognise itās been heavy like wearing an iron coat that was only amplified with an unrelenting state of anxiety.
So where does that leave us? I know the older I get the less I claim to know the answers, life is funny that way, isnāt it? But here are a few things Iām going to remind myself as we begin the next chapter and maybe theyāll be a tad useful to you as well:
This shit was big and itās okay to not have it all figured out.
If youāre sleepy and canāt quite open your eyes donāt beat yourself up for hitting the snooze button.
If that second serving of pasta is calling your name, go ahead and indulge in that tasty delight.
Itās okay to admit youāre lonely and need to ask for a hug.
How are you finding adjusting to post-pandemic life? How does this new, new, new normal feel? What canāt come back quick enough? Letās have a chinwag on Twitter.
Until next time and in the words of the one and only Walter Mercado āmucho, mucho amor.ā ā¤ļø