The Many Iterations of Taking Care of Each Other (and Ourselves)

Hello,

It’s so good to be writing to you. I’ve thought to send an update many times over the past 2 months, but as you can imagine, life has been extremely full here. Much of my community has survived an incredibly devastating hurricane. When I updated you last, I still had no idea the level of destruction that had occurred here. It’s become clear now, and the pain of it all feels unbearable when you look for too long. My 4 year old has asked me “Mama, how will they get the trash out of the trees? How will they get the trucks out of the river?” He expresses all of this in his play, and I hear him say things like “oh sorry, that place floated away. That place is gone now. Their house is gone.” Asheville will never be the same, and those of us who experienced it will not be either. I have witnessed people rally together and support one another, work toward a common goal of making sure we are all okay. It reminds me of the goodness of humanity.

Outside of that, we have also just experienced an election cycle that has felt devastating for many. As a social worker, my work is rooted in social justice. As I write this, I feel somber but the flame in me that burns for us, for our collective, for our healing, burns so brightly in me. But I also worry. I have been trying to balance these experiences, allow them to move through me as they will. I try to recognize what I have control over and what I don’t, and extend my support in every way possible while also knowing that the road ahead is long. I worry for my children and yours, and you of course. The grief I feel for our earth, for the impact these next years will have on the future, threatens to swallow me whole multiple times a day. The destruction from Hurricane Helene was nearly doubled as a result of climate change. My partner and I have tearful conversations about what we feel compelled to teach our children so they will be as equipped as possible to cope with what will come their way. We also realize that what we model for them in our daily lives is what will be most instilled in them. So we connect with our neighbors and check on our friends, go to the market and support local farmers and cook meals at home, fill the Beloved street pantries when we can, and speak to one another with respect, and repair when we don’t. Chop wood, carry water. I don’t know if it will help and I don’t know if it will keep them safe but still, I try.

My partner reminds me that there is still beauty here and our job is to enjoy it, to remind ourselves of why we feel so much pain—because we love it that much. So I’ve been asking myself, what makes life worth living? What makes something worth saving? The morning after election day, I saw this quote from Rebecca Solnit and I’ve read it 100 times, at least:

“The fact that we cannot save everything does not mean we cannot save anything and everything we can save is worth saving."

I also believe in us. I believe in our love for one another. I believe that many of us can and will act and behave in ways that are generous and unselfish, caring and kind. I also know that when our brains and bodies are afraid, it’s much more difficult to do that. The disorientation and disorganization we may experience in the coming months and years will create conditions where we feel we have to choose our safety or choose our relationships. That’s the core of fearful avoidance. It will take intentional effort to stay in connection, to stay in security. I plan to be here to support you in that, and help you root into your integrity and values and show up in ways that you are proud of. We can work together on that.

I have decided to let it all change me. I am practicing letting go of what I thought would be. I’m letting go of my agenda in many ways, and working on showing up for what is right in front of me. There is grief in this practice, but also a freedom. I won’t hold on to something that is outdated and unhelpful in order to feel like I have more control than I do.

With that, I have some updates about my practice! Beginning in mid-December, I will be accepting Aetna insurance for therapy. I’m very excited about this transition, and looking forward to making my practice more accessible for folks who would like to use their insurance benefits. I am also accepting new coaching clients in the new year. If you would like to connect about either of these opportunities, please respond to this email and let me know, and I will get back to you soon.

After much deliberation, I have also decided to let go of my office space and move to a fully virtual practice. So much good work has been done in that space, and I am also craving a better work-life balance with two small children. I want my office to be full and busy and supportive of more good work, so I’m passing it along to someone who will do just that.

Finally, I had the opportunity to be interviewed by the wonderful, brilliant Kate Mosher on her podcast The Realm of Possibilities. Our episode is called Tending the Fires of Connection: Attachment, Repair, and Finding Joy. It was such a grounded and clear conversation, and I enjoyed my time with her immensely. I would love for you to check it out.

I also want to take a moment to thank you for your support over these past two months. Your kindness, care, and financial contributions to my work have meant so much to me. To each of you who reached out or participated in Buy Me a Coffee, THANK YOU. Thank you thank you. Big hugs to you.

This newsletter finds me in the midst of transformation. I realize that the ways my work has changed may no longer be in alignment for you. At any time, I invite you to unsubscribe if that is the case and free up some space in your inbox. Thank you for having been here, and thank you for sticking around if you choose to do so.

I am looking forward to connecting with you again soon! Please let me know if you have questions or feedback. I hope you are taking good care of yourself during these long nights and are feeling cozy.

Love,

Elizabeth