A Little Thing That Helps

Do you know who Bryan Johnson is? I go on his IG profile often because it’s the best car crash on the internet. In case you don’t know who he is, he’s a “longevity bro,” i.e. a guy who has made “not dying” his entire personality. He spends $2 million a year on healthcare and lives by strict rules: He goes to bed at 8:30, he doesn’t drink alcohol or even TOUCH “unhealthy” food. He has, and I am not making this up, literally put a sensor on his dick to track his nighttime erections. FOR OPTIMIZATION.

How ya doing? Before we get further into friendship…I want to share the sweetest comment I received from reader and community member Keri Kelly. Your comments remind me I am not screaming into the void and that means…everything. And now, let’s get into it… I recently did a (small) reader survey and asked about the topics you want to work through and heal, so you can ENJOY YOUR ONE LIFE, and one of your comments felt so, SO close to my own experience that I decided to take it on today.

Fifteen years and seventy-six notebooks later, my best friend was right. Hi, Friend! Before we dive into today’s post about the morning ritual that saved my life, I wanted to tell you how moved I am by your responses to my post about having kids. I read and reply to every single comment so come talk to me! This one from Brittany Heer is so beautiful it gave me chills.

Truly, I need you to take this in. Hello, friend! Today I need to talk to you about something VERY important. That is, of course, my newfound love of Madonna. This entire post is a ploy to get you to listen to my Madonna playlist. Truly, I need you to take this in. The only real experience I had with Madonna’s music up until now was in eighth-grade honors English. Holland H.

I am THRILLED, actually a little over the moon, to tell you about the best lip balm I’ve ever purchased. It has SAVED my perma-chapped lips (why-God-why?), smells heavenly (but subtle!), AND IS A TINY LUXURY I CAN AFFORD. Yes, this is all real! I found it on a recent trip to Paris where part of the entire reason going was to buy and try every single beauty product I had ever dreamed of. That might sound extra to you, but in my defense, I am VERY extra.

I was truly FLOORED by the incredible comments you all left on last week’s post about whether I want kids, so I want to try something new today: A post where I learn about you. And we all learn about each other. I want to help you live your best f*cking life. Enter your email and come hang! Here’s what I’d love to know: This can be in a relationship, in standing up for yourself, or at work. The sky really is the limit here.

But today, I want to talk to you about something a little bit different. As many of you know, I just turned 40 (eee!) and naturally, LOTS of well-meaning (I think?) people are side-eyeing me and asking if I want kids. Let me tell you a story… Last year, I was at a conference, complaining to a relationship expert about being single. (The Boyfriend™ hadn’t entered the picture yet, obviously).

How ya doing? I’m in full spring-cleaning mode over here, which means I’m thinking about one of my favorite topics: your home, and what it says about how you feel about yourself. Today I want to share something I wrote about inBuy Yourself the F*cking Lilies that I use EVERY SINGLE DAY and think about more than almost any other ritual in the book. Because it’s not really about cleaning. It’s about how you treat yourself when no one’s watching. SAY WHAT? Buckle up to find out what I mean… Like, at all.

In case you missed it, I hosted a live journaling session for Inner Circle members that was all about spring cleaning, but not your closet. Your MIND. We inventoried what’s been cluttering our mental space, donated the things we’ve been white-knuckling for no good reason, and made a list of everything worth keeping. Then we mended something small. And we closed with a sentence we wrote on an index card and held up to the camera together. I cried a little! Just putting that out there.

I spent my entire 20s saying no to Coachella. Not because I was too cool for it. The opposite! I was a wee bit uptight and just couldn’t justify spending money on “experiences.” Why would I pay hundreds of dollars to stand in the desert and get charged $14 for a bottle of water? I thought. I told myself I was being responsible. But what I was actually doing? Saying no to my life. Reader, last weekend I finally went to Coachella to, very explicitly, redeem my youth.