Be careful what you wish for
Or, Do Not F*** With Intentions: A Cautionary Tale
Hi friends,
In my last newsletter, I wrote:
We come into this world being kicked out of our comfort zones—that’s the natural order of things. We’re not supposed to stay comfortable. Don’t look at me—it’s science.
HA HA HA!
When I tell you life has a sense of humour… 🥲
Just days after I wrote that, I was forced to move out of my apartment in a hurry with nothing but as much as I could carry, and my cats. Due to an overnight situation that made it unsafe for me to continue living there, I now find myself in my boyfriend’s parents’ guest bedroom looking for a brand new place to live. As anyone who has tried finding an apartment in Berlin knows… it might take a while.
(As an aside, some people reading this might recall me talking for years about how, ever since the day I moved into my apartment, I’ve had an intense and persistent fear that one day there would be a hammering on my door in the middle of the night, and that I would have to take my belongings and my cats and flee my home. I’m extremely creeped out to report that this is exactly what happened.)
It has been a shock, as so many of my major life changes have been. My apartment wasn’t just where I lived—it was my safe space, a sanctuary that has held me over three years of growth, loss, and healing. It was where I met myself and learned to really love myself, a space that witnessed me break, and come back stronger, many times over. When the world wasn’t a safe place, my apartment always was—until it wasn’t anymore.
Having that taken from me has been incredibly painful. I miss my home and everything it represented, but I’m also trying to recognise it as a painful-but-necessary step in the direction of whatever is meant for me.
I’ve found great comfort this past week in the words of Caroline Myss, who talks about suffering as, “The sense that certain things shouldn’t happen to you, and they did—as if you were excluded from the ordinary, everyday things of life, and you can’t get over it… ‘I can’t believe this happened to me’—who did you think it would happen to? Them?”
It’s helped me to think this way before. Every catastrophic thing that has happened in my life has been necessary for my growth, and brought me giant strides towards where I needed to be. After the last devastating loss I suffered (exactly a year ago today, what is life), I wallowed in self-pity for a while until one day I thought, “Of course that happened to me. Why wouldn’t it happen?”
If it hadn’t happened, I would have stayed stuck in stale patterns and a mindset that didn’t serve me. In hindsight, I have zero ambiguity about the fact that the loss was proportionate to the lesson I needed to learn, and I am vastly better off for it.
Besides which, I believe I asked for it—not in a self-flagellating, “I deserve this” kind of way, but I literally invited big change. Something else I said in the last newsletter was:
Something isn’t working, I—or some other voice in my soul—said. While the feeling that accompanied it was heavy, weighing me down in my bed, it also felt, distinctly, like relief; a new beginning.
At that time, I wrote in my journal—repeatedly, over the course of several days—my intention to release anything that wasn’t serving me, and my commitment to letting go of anything I didn’t need.
Well.
I’ve found intention-setting to be very powerful, and I’m usually surprised by what follows, but I didn’t quite expect it to be so dramatic and quite so fucking inconvenient. I would caution anyone to be very mindful about inviting upheaval into their life, and to be sure that they’re ready for it.
This is a turn of events I absolutely did not imagine—nor one would I have wished for. And yet, it’s undeniable that I’ve been more supported in this crisis than I could have reasonably expected: I didn’t have to stay in an unsafe environment a second longer than I wanted to, and could immediately move myself and my cats to a safe place where I’m welcome to stay as long as I need to. I feel beyond lucky that my boyfriend’s parents, who happen to be two of the nicest people I’ve ever met, stepped in to keep me safe. It’s allowed me to focus on gratitude for my circumstances, rather than despair.
The lesson for me here is a reminder that when we ask for what we need, we don’t always get it how we want it. In the same conversation I shared above, Caroline Myss also shared a great story about a man who didn’t get what he wanted, because he couldn’t have handled it. She said, “By not giving you what you think you want, He’s protected you from the worst of you, and given you the best of you.”
This certainly has given me a kick in the pants I needed to make some major changes that I probably was, frankly, too comfortable to make before. Now, I don’t have a choice but to take inventory of my life and reprioritise the fundamentals.
I also said last week (let’s just consider this newsletter a retrospective):
We can expect to lose things that keep us comfortable and don’t serve our highest good; things that we like, and are attached to, but are inextricably linked to a version of ourselves that’s stuck…
Who on Earth would voluntarily invite their life to fall to pieces? Only one who’s ready to get off their BS. I know I could be doing better…so I’ll opt for spending this week (or however long it takes) voluntarily being…pissed off and temporarily insane until I’m carried to the other side of it.
Welp. The universe works in mysterious ways, but also…not. Right now, as much as I am pissed off, I’m more humbled, sheepish, and sad.
But still, if you were on the corner of Schliemannstraße and Danziger Straße at around 20.00 last night, you might have seen me, covered in matcha (because, just earlier, I had taken my first sip of a much-coveted bubble tea after a 45-minute wait in line, only to have to splurt all over the front of my brand-new white t-shirt), struggle lamely with a shopping bag and my bike basket, before wailing “Why is everything HARD?” out loud, to the universe.
I’m not often given to fits of petulance, but it does feel a little like I might be dying by a thousand paper cuts right now.
Yesterday, I felt a familiar feeling descend on me that I immediately recognised as a sign that I needed to get home. If this also affects you, you might recognise it immediately, too.
When I’m under a great deal of stress and/or sensory overload (which happens quite easily), I get overwhelmed and become completely incapacitated; the sound in my ears becomes hollow and muffled, my vision swims, and I feel detached from my body and my environment. I’m unable to function or self-regulate; it’s as if my brain goes “see ya” and checks out, leaving my body to its own devices.
For a long time, I didn’t know what this was. Now, I believe this is called disassociation, and it happens to me quite regularly. It’s usually triggered by overstimulation—sound is the biggest culprit, but too much caffeine, interaction, or stress can do it too. It’s wildly inconvenient.
When I disassociate, it is physically unsafe for me to be anywhere other than alone, at home, until it passes. I’ve been caught outside several times when a dissociative episode hit; because my brain and my body are no longer communicating, crossing a road or riding a bike is hazardous.
I do things like go into public toilets and not lock the door behind me. I once got fined 120 Euros for failing to buy a train ticket; the train came and I just got on, on autopilot. Oops. Cooking is also out of the question—in this state, I mishandle knives and leave the stove on, so it’s safer just to order in and wait for it to pass.
It may be a pain in the ass, but it is not weakness of character—I’m certain of this because I am as strong as the strongest person I know. However, it does make many things difficult: like having a job, and relationships, and a social life, and responsibilities to people other than myself. For a long time, I believed that not being able to figure out how to hold these things down was selfish, and immature, and somehow deficient.
Trying to force these things because I felt like I should came at great cost to my mental and physical health, and now I’ve simply accepted it for what it is. I’ve picked the ones that are important: mental health and work, which are what I need to support myself without needing to rely on anyone else.
The upshot is that I have to live on my own terms, which I try to do respectfully and compassionately of myself and other people. I have to be cautious of over-committing, which is a people-pleaser’s favourite poison; I’ve learned what works for me and what doesn’t, and to say “no” to the latter. The people closest to me understand and respect this; it’s taken me a long time to become comfortable with letting the people who don’t understand and respect it not matter.
I accept myself as I am, but I do wonder: does what happens to me happen to other people who lead “regular”, healthy lives? I would say mine is a full and healthy life, just one that requires some management and balance. Is “regular” as it appears, or is there always something like this going on under the surface?
Things that helped this week
Julia Powell and her dog, Ella
Julia Powell is one of my favourite contemporary artists; her dog, Ella, recently passed away, and she penned this letter to her dearly departed companion. After a week of holding it together, her beautiful words gave me permission to fall apart—which I did, standing alone in a dark field, facing the sea. If you need a good, cathartic cry, I recommend reading this in a private moment.
DBT skills
We seem to hear more about CBT (cognitive behavioural therapy) than DBT (dialectical behavioural therapy). I think that’s because DBT was originally devised for borderline personality disorders, but I’ve found the tools so effective for anxiety management and emotional regulation.
I first started learning about it via this really informative podcast, and have since purchased this very helpful and practical workbook—which I suppose I really should dive into now.
Deleting Instagram
I finally did it, and it feels like freedom. I’ve been so much more lucid and aware for the past couple of weeks. The feeling I get from resurfacing from my phone always makes me feel like JD from Scrubs in this scene:
Undoubtedly, my brain will grasp for other distractions—it’s not a choice for everyone, but I feel that I need to unplug from media in order to plug in to the present, as Iyanla Vanzant describes meditation:
“When a televison is activated it will produce currents of sound that can be heard and light that can be seen. You, on the other hand, must turn off all currents of sound and light in order to get plugged in.”
Fiction
Reality was brutal this week, so I welcomed the supernatural. I inhaled this book by Octavia Butler and this one by Afia Atakora.
The latter, in particular—more magical realism than supernatural—was a really beautiful, moving work. Lines like, “Ain’t every woman’s daughter made from the death of the mama, somehow or another?”, “Seems to me if faith was tangible it wouldn’t be faith, would it?”, and “Folks who didn’t say plainly what they wanted harbored the most pernicious type of wanting” make me want to read everything Afia Atakora ever writes.
I also started reading Chani Nicholas’ book—I’m new to astrology, and am finding her intimate style really absorbing.
Personalised skincare
I just discovered Ave+Edam, and was sold on the certified-clean formula and ingredients like bakuchiol, niacinamide, and willowbark (if it don’t brighten my skin, I don’t want it).
I’ve just been using it for a few days but the Bye, Blemishes serum stopped a chin spot (the worst) in its tracks and my face looked super calm and radiant the morning after using Perfection Boost.
Because they’re personalised, they really work (take the skin test)—plus they’re a Berlin-based startup, and we <3 supporting our local ecosystem :)
All the therapy
My therapist practices a method which combines bodywork with traditional therapy to more effectively release emotional stress and trauma from the body—this is especially helpful my current situation, which frequently triggers anxiety.
By promoting awareness about why, where, and how I hold tension in my body, it also makes me better at self-healing (if you’ve read The Body Keeps the Score, then this probably makes sense) and managing stress on an ongoing basis.
My therapist doesn't live in Berlin anymore, but she’s here now for just a couple of weeks—even one session can be transformative, so let me know if you’d like her contact info.
Cats that helped this week
I don't think I’ve ever appreciated these two more than I have this past week.
Perhaps even before my own safety, getting them out of an unsafe environment was my first thought, and they’ve been absolute saints in adjusting to a new environment—although we’re so blessed to be safe and comfortable, if you know cats, you know they hate change and can make you really suffer for inflicting it upon them.
Here are a few snapshots of them in their new, albeit temporary, home—quite frankly looking extremely boujie.
Mr Munch: more ennui than ever (who’d have thought that was possible).
A regal setting befitting of Lady Olive.
Okay this is just full Aristocats.
The day I had to leave my apartment in a hurry with as much as I could carry, my mind turned to one particular moment from just the week prior. It was one of many moments of its kind that made me love my home so much, and this one was particularly special: it was a grey, peaceful day, and there was no noise from outside; the windows were thrown open, and cool, fresh air poured in as I sat in my favourite chair with a book, covered with a blanket.
It was so perfect that I took a photo—now I realise that was the last of those moments I would ever experience in my beloved flat, and I’m so grateful that I got to experience my home at its best just before my peaceful life there fell apart.
I’m even more grateful I have a photo to remember it by—the feeling of a perfect moment is an impossible thing to capture, but maybe you can imagine the cool air and stillness that made it so beautiful:
On that peaceful note, I wish you a beautiful Sunday.
XO,
P.S. I used to get a lot of my newsletter feedback, and have great exchanges, via Instagram—now that I’ve deleted it, feel free to respond directly to this newsletter if you get it via email, or drop a comment below. Always happy to hear from you!
I adore you Meera! Empathising with this beautiful post.
"Is “regular” as it appears, or is there always something like this going on under the surface?" - love that!