My Sweet Dumb Brain

I’ve been living a small life lately. That was the thought I had sitting three rows from the top of Mercedes-Benz Stadium with tears running down my face. Kickoff was still hours away. I am a careful person. A planner. Thrifty, sometimes to a fault. I’m an introvert. A homebody. Sometimes shy. I like to read and write—to live in my head. These are the things I tell myself. For the most part, they’ve served me well. But sometimes they keep me small. Sometimes they leave me lonely.

The first time I stepped into a Social Security office was in 2017, on a warm, muggy morning in St. Petersburg, Florida. I was 31 and freshly widowed. My friend Nicki came along but was promptly sent outside with her iced coffee; beverages were strictly prohibited. That’s how I wound up alone at the window when my name was called. The worker gave me a pamphlet, a sad smile, and a check for $255. “Do you have any questions?” she asked.

Psst — are you the type of person who subscribes to newsletters hoping for a glimpse of someone else’s dirty laundry? Well, behind today’s paywall is a literal dirty laundry room. It’s... kind of embarrassing. If you become a paid subscriber, you can see what it looks like now! On Thursday evening, I got together with two friends for no other reason than to sit on a porch and catch up.

Readers of Haley Nahman’s (very excellent) Maybe Baby may already be familiar with a concept a recent guest writer shared: the three tiers of fun. According to this framework, fun falls into three categories: Tier 1: You do something, and it is fun. Tier 2: You do something, and it’s not fun at the time, but becomes fun in retrospect. Tier 3: You do something, and it is neither fun at the time nor fun in retrospect, but it isfun(ny) to tell other people about later. Dating as a widow?

I'm forever learning to let go. Hi, friends. I know some readers don’t always want to read about parenthood. If that’s you, feel free to skip this one. How many breakfasts will I make? I began writing this early Sunday morning, right after I woke up. I’m typing as quickly as I can from bed, racing against the internal clock that will soon wake my daughter. Before long, she’ll be here too, curled up next to me. I’ll have no choice but to stop what I’m doing and snuggle her back.

If you’ve ever dipped into the comments section of this newsletter, there’s a good chance you’ve run into Hannah Iris. Hannah almost always leaves a comment on My Sweet Dumb Brain posts, and those comments reveal a lot about the person she is. She’s thoughtful and conscientious, self-reflective and funny, and genuinely cares about other people’s well-being. She’s also gotten really good at noticing the bright spots in her own life.

Two weeks ago, on a warm spring morning, the air smelled like smoke. More accurately, it smelled like a bonfire made from more than just wood. There was a whiff of burning plastic. Of toxic chemicals. Of smoldering rubber. I noticed it on the walk home after dropping off my child at her outdoor preschool. By the time I got back, I had a pounding headache. I checked the local news for answers. Billy checked social media. Within seconds, we had the same explanation: wildfires.

I, a woman who is 41 years and one dayold, am writing to you with a confession: I still struggle with the birthday blues. For me, they look a lot like the grief that creeps in ahead of a death anniversary or the emotional upheaval before my period. I get moody and introspective — pretty low, at times — questioning all the big things in life. Then, the day arrives and… I’m fine! What was I so upset about, anyway? I’m blessed. Lucky to be alive.

Hello, friends! Today is my birthday. It falls on a Monday, perhaps the worst day for a birthday, but all’s well. I celebrated over the weekend, and today I get to kick off the next…

As you might suspect, it can be a challenge to write a weekly newsletter while also working on a book. (While also parenting and freelancing, and the list goes on. We all have our lists!) Over the past couple of days, after a stretch of feeling stuck and uninspired, I’ve hit a real turning point with my novel in progress. Which is great! I’ll be riding this wave of motivation and focus for as long as I can. There’s a downside, of course.