You know how after there’s a death, the first week or so is full of support and then people move on with with their lives? It feels like with Covid, March was the equivalent of that first week. My social media timelines were flooded with supportive memes about self-care (I clearly follow a lot of therapists) and conversations with friends and family centered around making sure we were all “okay.”  Fast forward seven months, a few weeks away from the election, and I’m feeling pulled to revisit the themes of March. Many of us are preparing for colder weather and losing the ability to shake off cabin fever with a socially-distanced outdoor hangout or long walk in a park.

It’s okay to feel lonely. 

There’s no shame in needing people and in needing human connection. This month I had the opportunity to sit down with Marvin Toliver, LCSW, from @melanatedsocialwork and lead him through a guided exercise on cultivating a sense of connection when we feel lonely. If you missed the live event, you can click here to watch. If you prefer to go at your own pace, scroll down for the written script. 

I chose the topic of loneliness because it’s a common experience, yet doesn’t get much air time. On social media, we are bombarded with images of folks connecting, or at least displaying their social capital. We can feel lonely in the process of a breakup, in a romantic relationship that isn’t meeting our needs, or really any time we aren’t getting enough experiences of connection. We feel connected when we feel seen, heard, understood, and celebrated.  It takes courage to risk showing ourselves to others, and it takes skill to communicate when we aren’t having our needs met.

I appreciate aesthetics, I appreciate self expression, and I appreciate joyful movement. But I don’t cook, do arts and crafts, or participate in sports of any kind. These are the kinds of qualities about me you’ll find in jokes made about me (with love) and stories told about me (i.e. remember when Amalia left a pizza in the oven overnight?). 

However, fast forward to one night this week when my partner, who does almost all of the cooking, was overwhelmed with work responsibilities and we had a fridge full of groceries needing to be used. I was motivated to support my partner and I was in the head space of not being quite sure what to do with myself, so I decided to give it a try.

All that I discovered might seem obvious to those of you who regularly prepare food. This was all new to me, and I hope everyone can find some time this week to be present in an activity that feels as nurturing as cooking this simple dish was for me. 

When Chani Nicholas released her book, You Born for This, at the start of 2020, I rushed to order a signed copy. I first became aware of her work as a graduate student, and have since found comfort in her emails, Instagram posts, and have even participated in a few of her courses. However, it wasn’t until early this month that I took the time to sit down with my journal and work my way through the self-paced guide to my own astrology chart. I finished the entire book in a matter of hours, and found myself wishing I didn’t have a signed copy so that I could have felt free to scribble in the margins and highlight everything of relevance. And a lot of it felt relevant. 

The insight into my chart felt relevant because it felt like someone was poetically and accurately explaining myself to me, paired with the message that these qualities are all components of my life’s purpose. The gifts and challenges of my chart are all part of the what, why, and how I show up in the world for myself and others. I’ve carried these insights with me throughout the days since, often remembering snippets of text that affirm the choices I make and the work I feel compelled to do.