I sit in a coffee shop, try not to cry, and rather than wait for the feeling to pass, I embrace, write, and see what comes out. A deep lover of Nora Ephron movies, pretending I’m Kathleen Kelly in You’ve Got Mail writing to NY152 before she learns NY152 is Joe Fox, I want to feel like old friends mid conversation, instead of what we actually are, people who don’t know each other and have never met. Perhaps as I write and you read, we’ll find solid ground together. In the spirit of HerHaus.
I tend to overshare—simultaneously my superpower and my kryptonite—but I believe the exchange of stories establishes intimacy and builds relationships. The word vomit equivalent of “I’ll show you mine, if you show me yours”. This stems from a deep desire to connect, feel less alone or weird, break the fourth wall, look directly into the camera and say, “Are you seeing this too? Isn’t this insane?” BECAUSE THIS LIFE IS BONKERS! Wonderfully, brilliantly, beautifully, and painfully
bonkers.
I walk an exhaustingly delicate tightrope of vulnerability with boundaries. My boyfriend frequently reminds me “Christina, you don’t owe anyone the details about your life,” but I don’t know how to be mysterious or surface level. The result is the confiding of strangers. Give me 10 minutes in a bar, and I will know the bartender’s name, his ex wife’s name, the grade of his children, and why he no longer uses a smartphone. I love these moments, these seemingly insignificant scenes of connection replanting me in my own Nora Ephron film. My charmingly messy life, the zellenial Meg Ryan equivalent complete with a score by The Cranberries.
Raised in the church, I believed the point of everything was “to be Christ-like,” open and ready to share the gospel with all you encounter. This is not the blog in which I map my christian upbringing, attempted deconstruction, and tepid return to some assemblage of faith through a series of transcendent yoga classes and batshit crazy life experiences. Instead, I ask myself “what’s the point?” followed by “does there have to be one?” Can things just simply be what they are without attaching weight or meaning to them?
One of my favorite romantic gestures is “just because” flowers. No birthday, anniversary, or apology necessary, I wanted to give you flowers just because.
Just because I love you.
Just because I saw them and thought of you.
But that childlike innocence can turn into adulthood paranoia.
A “just because” blog.
Just because I’m exhausted.
Just because I can’t handle being on TikTok right now.
Just because I need to log hours.
Just because sitting in a coffee shop, trying not to cry, writing makes me feel like this silly little world isn’t quite so big and quite so scary as it is.
Lindsay started HerHaus just because she saw a need for the women in her community. I’m fortunate enough to be in her path of totality. From vague hand gestures and hour long zoom meetings to a company about the hard, wild, wonderful realities of being a woman.
I challenge you to think about your own womanhood, removed of instagram reels, tiktoks, articles about cortisol, the should’s and shouldn’ts of feminism, and any other baggage attached to your idea of womanhood. Close your eyes and feel what it is to be a woman right here, right now, in your body, at this moment.
I’ll show you mine. Past the initial wave of exhaustion , pissiness of my boobs’ size, uncomfortability of my shoes, hate of the cellulite on my ass, I feel a wave of gratitude that wells up right behind my belly button. Religion, politics, and responsibilities aside, if you have the ability to sit still with yourself for even a moment, you’re pretty fuckinging lucky.
Maybe Nora Ephron was on to something when she wrote about New York in the fall and bouquets of sharpened pencils. I don’t believe in sweating the small stuff, but I do believe in noticing it. All the feelings of hurt or overwhelm. All the lessons to learn, all the wisdom to give. Maybe meeting each day with exhaustive gratitude is the point. Because maybe the point is to live this weird, wonderful life with as much love, laughter, and joy as possible. Just because we can.