Holding On Tightly To Grief
In December I had a second miscarriage, four months after the first (and two weeks before Christmas). And both its discovery and its loss happened in the single span of the week my husband had COVID.
I didn’t mourn the loss of this pregnancy in the same way. I didn’t have time enough to grasp the reality of a new pregnancy before it was gone. And as my midwife warned, it proved a strong reminder of the first experience - which didn’t feel traumatic in the moment, but my mind-body-soul desperately wished to avoid the experience again.
Even so, my heart hurts lately, in that deep, painful way that makes me want to escape - with the anxious realization that I can’t. I understand, intellectually, that this feeling is here for me, purposeful in its embrace of my whole body.
And yet I’m resisting, intensely.
In December I had a second miscarriage, four months after the first (and two weeks before Christmas). And both its discovery and its loss happened in the single span of the week my husband had COVID.
I didn’t mourn the loss of this pregnancy in the same way. I didn’t have time enough to grasp the reality of a new pregnancy before it was gone. And as my midwife warned, it proved a strong reminder of the first experience - which didn’t feel traumatic in the moment, but my mind-body-soul desperately wished to avoid the experience again.
Even so, my heart hurts lately, in that deep, painful way that makes me want to escape - with the anxious realization that I can’t. I understand, intellectually, that this feeling is here for me, purposeful in its embrace of my whole body.
And yet I’m resisting, intensely.
The best metaphor I have to explain this feeling is within the experience of birthing my children - it’s that intensely painful moment called transition, right before it’s time to push, right before it’s time to meet your sweet babe. It hurts (a lot), and all you want to do is escape the pain!
But the only way to get “out” is to move “through.”
For me, both times, intense pain during transition has mixed with intense fear: I’m tired, I can’t do this anymore… but also I’m not ready yet, I’m not strong enough, and what if something goes wrong?
The thing is, I thought the grief I felt during the first miscarriage would be the worst of it. I thought everything after that would move in a mostly positive direction (and not a cyclical one).
Instead I'm cautiously noting every week that brings us closer to Easter: my due date.
Sometimes things do feel better. That’s the thing about feelings: they’re messily packed with good moments and hard ones. And regardless the number of hard moments, I can easily pinpoint a joyful one and another filled with laughter (mine or my girls').
I just have this sense that I’m moving through something big, like an involuntary metamorphosis. (Though, to be clear: are any metamorphosis-like transitions ever voluntary?)
I just thought it would feel differently, more sacred or something.
A butterfly’s “becoming” appears beautiful, magnificent, stunning! And maybe that’s what I was expecting: the instagram-worthy version. My “becoming” hurts. It's uncomfortable. I've asked for (and gratefully received) so much support, more than I thought I'd need; and I've felt all the feelings I've ever known, over again.
So why is it taking so long?
I think it’s because… I’m resisting the leap toward what’s next - even though I know it’s close.
Maybe it’s too close.
If I let go of what I know and what’s familiar…
If I release the pain…
Do I release the dream?
Do I release the baby-that-wasn’t?
(And what if the other side sucks, too? What if things don’t get better? What if the other side is worse?)
Part of me feels like the baby is still here, and time can standstill - as long as I hold tightly to this grief. But if I let go, I lose the baby (and the dream for the baby) completely… am I ready for that?
Fear of transition is what keeps me holding on too tightly. So how do I sit inside that fear? How do I show up to that fear, knowing it’s necessary (and not-forever)? How do I let go of what I’m feeling now to embrace what I might experience next?
thank you for reading,
xx
alycia buenger
Why I Quit Marketing On Social Media
Social media is considered “the” place to share your work on the internet, right? This is partly because nearly everyone uses social media (making it, quite literally, the biggest and farthest-reaching “social network”) and partly because it’s “free” …as long as you’re willing to sacrifice your time to the algorithm and some personal information for big-spending advertisers.
But marketing my work on social media has never worked for me. Not for my money-making work and not for my mind/body/soul.
And here’s why.
At the beginning of this month, I quit marketing my work on social media.
To be clear: this wasn’t a big stretch! I haven’t talked about my work much more than “randomly” (and social media has never helped me sign clients).
Still, it’s considered “the” place to share your work on the internet, right? This is partly because nearly everyone uses social media (making it, quite literally, the biggest and farthest-reaching “social network”) and partly because it’s “free” …as long as you’re willing to sacrifice your time to the algorithm and some personal information for big-spending advertisers.
But marketing my work on social media has never worked for me. Not for my money-making work and not for my mind/body/soul.
And here’s why -
#1. Finding clients through social media is rare within my industry.
I’m a writer and a copywriter. I work with people who use social media for marketing; but it doesn’t attract those same clients to my work.
Instead, and like many service providers, my work is primarily referral-based: If a previous client shares her results with a friend, that friend is more likely to reach out for help (v. an Instagram follower who finds my work through a hashtag browse).
Of course, this isn’t the case for every industry (even for every writer). And Instagram says it’s committed to supporting creators in 2022. But it seems to be the case for me!
#2. The life of a social media post (on Facebook and Instagram) is severely limited - sometimes to as little as one hour. Which makes it far less fruitful in the long-term.
If your post on Instagram doesn’t receive “good” engagement within the hour it's posted, the algorithm won’t share your post - even within your followers’ feeds! This means you have to post the right kind of image, with the right kind of words, at the right time of day just to have a chance for visibility.
Even the sound of this is exhausting to me.
And this doesn’t even touch on the topic of how distracted people are within that hour of your “best engagement” period! Even if someone sees or reads your post, it’s unlikely to make them stop and think… let alone follow and support.
Alternatively, Pinterest and YouTube allow for long-term searchable content. (These platforms are not considered social media, though I think it’s vital to point out their use of similar algorithms.)
And this, I think, is what I need right now (and what I’ll attempt to create with my non-social media marketing strategy): internet platforms used to archive my work, publicly.
Again, this isn’t the best strategy for every small business creative. Determining what works for you and why is quite individual. That’s a big part of my work with clients.
#3. To that point, social media requires a lot of creative energy to keep up with an endlessly changing algorithm.
This isn’t inherently bad; if you enjoy creating for social media platforms, it’s a great way to engage with people around the globe.
But if you’re like me and you don’t particularly enjoy creating Reels and regularly posting to Stories, creating for social media doesn’t provide the same kind of rejuvenative energy. (And really, that should be the goal: creating in ways that support you.)
Of course, some people have created intentional balance with social media. Many of my business friends and clients have created time-boundaries with social media (i.e. only spending one hour per day on all platforms) or social sabbaths (i.e. no social media on the weekends).
I’ve tried those things and failed (many times). Which leaves me with few options but to exit the platform - at least for now.
#4. The consumption of social media is well-documented to encourage unhealthy and unrealistic comparison that leaves us feeling more depressed and anxious. (Visit TheSocialDilemma.com to learn specifics.)
Of course, this wasn’t the original purpose of social media: it was designed to expand our social life in ways that in-person events can’t.
But with a business model that prioritizes big-spending advertisers and an algorithm that intentionally creates screen addiction, the original purpose for community-building platforms feels nearly long-gone.
Even without the research, my personal experience has changed lately.
At the beginning of the pandemic, social media helped me keep in touch with everyone I wasn’t seeing in-person. Now it feels like an easy distraction from the hard parts of life I sometimes want to avoid.
The decision to quit marketing my work on social media is one I’ve struggled to make for years.
Social media acts as my primary distraction to what-matters-most; and yet, it’s full of small business owners I choose to support and friendships I wouldn’t have otherwise: But how can I drop the parts about social media that I don’t like… and keep the good parts?
I couldn’t find a solution other than dropping social media entirely and engaging with friends and community in different ways - by visiting our local artist studio and directly writing to dear friends.
But I’m curious, whether you use social media or not: How have you grappled with your questions around these platforms?
until next week, alycia buenger
It's Never Too Late To Start
The Alchemist later became a mega-success. It’s been translated from Portuguese into 80+ languages and it’s spent a record-breaking 400 weeks on the New York Times bestseller list.
But Paulo Coelho’s bleak first-experience as a published writer gives me so much hope for not-yet possibilities in my own life now (particularly as someone who writes things).
One of my favorite authors (one of the most influential authors of my time! an author who’s been interviewed by Oprah!) was “forty-one and desperate” before he published his first book; and it was massively unsuccessful and generally ignored for years before anyone started reading it.
That didn’t stop him from writing it or publishing it (twice).
At least once every year I read The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho. Usually it’s during a time in my life when I’m craving divine connection to Something Bigger Than Me. (Lately, and throughout the pandemic, it’s all I want to read.)
The Alchemist is the story of Santiago, a shepherd boy, who pursues his Personal Legend across the desert and home again.
The “25th Anniversary Edition” is my favorite, because its Forward begins like this:
“When The Alchemist was first published twenty-five years ago in my native Brazil, no one noticed. A bookseller in the northeast corner of the country told me that only one person purchased a copy the first week of its release. It took another six months for the bookseller to unload a second copy–and that was to the same person who bought the first! And who knows how long it took to sell a third.
By the end of the year, it was clear to everyone that The Alchemist wasn’t working. My original publisher decided to cut me loose and cancelled our contract. They wiped their hands of the project and let me take the book with me. I was forty-one and desperate.”
The Alchemist later became a mega-success. It’s been translated from Portuguese into 80+ languages and it’s spent a record-breaking 400 weeks on the New York Times bestseller list.
But Paulo Coelho’s bleak first-experience as a published writer gives me so much hope for not-yet possibilities in my own life now (particularly as someone who writes things).
One of my favorite authors (one of the most influential authors of my time! an author who’s been interviewed by Oprah!) was “forty-one and desperate” before he published his first book; and it was massively unsuccessful and generally ignored for years before anyone started reading it.
That didn’t stop him from writing it or publishing it (twice).
Paulo Coelho says that’s because the story is HIM: “I never lost faith or wavered in my vision. Why? Because it was me in there, all of me, heart and soul.”
And, because “[t]he story of one person is the story of everyone, and one [wo]man’s quest is the quest of all humanity,” we’re still reading and relating to his words decades later.
I think, too, it’s because he was writing from a place of Inspired Trust In Something Big.
His heart speaks to my heart (speaks to your heart) because we’re inspired by the same Energy That Connects Us.
And that energy never runs out or goes away completely. Even if it takes awhile… Paulo Coelho demonstrates, over and over again, that it’s never too late to get started.
until next week, alycia buenger
Why I Keep Getting The Worst Advice
I recently signed up to receive business advice from a local group of volunteers, many of whom are retired from their own small companies or freelance work.
Aside from some possibly out-dated advice about marketing, I left with this feeling of unease in my belly.
My mentor suggested I eliminate anything from my website, my marketing, and my work that is not directly related to selling my copywriting services. Because that's what makes money; that's what prospective clients want to see.
And he is right. That's how a business makes money inside our current systems. Pick one thing, preferably the most lucrative, and “optimize” that thing until you can’t anymore.
And yet.
My work for other people, while I enjoy it immensely, is not the only thing I’d like to highlight - on my website or otherwise.
I recently signed up to receive business advice from a local group of volunteers, many of whom are retired from their own small companies or freelance work.
Aside from some possibly out-dated advice about marketing, I left with this feeling of unease in my belly.
My mentor suggested I eliminate anything from my website, my marketing, and my work that is not directly related to selling my copywriting services. Because that's what makes money; that's what prospective clients want to see.
And he is right. That's how a business makes money inside our current systems. Pick one thing, preferably the most lucrative, and “optimize” that thing until you can’t anymore.
And yet.
My work for other people, while I enjoy it immensely, is not the only thing I’d like to highlight - on my website or otherwise.
I also write essays to reframe conventional thinking.
I also practice and teach yoga and meditation.
I also talk endlessly about (good) books.
And I spend most of my days “deschooling” my kids (and myself).
I wouldn’t say I’m particularly complicated; but like everyone else I know, my work is complex and multi-faceted.
The thing is, though, I don't have anything to prove the real possibility that my multi-passionate method of advertising will work.
I have not experienced much in the way of financial success via my website, particularly since the start of the pandemic.
It’s just…
I don't want to squeeze my work into one money-making avenue. Even if that’s the one that will make the most money.
I don't want to eliminate everything else about me to advertise what I can do for other people - even though I love what I do for other people!
But underneath all these layers is the bigger (and better question):
Why do I keep seeking outside advice when I seem to know internally what I want and need?
There’s guilt: for not earning enough.
There’s fear: of missing my babies; of missing my Soul’s work.
There’s anger: about the guilt and the fear.
It reminds of this beautiful prayer within Paulo Coelho’s Brida. A witch named Wicca says,
“We feel guilty when we go out to work because we’re leaving our children in order to earn money to feed them. We feel guilty when we stay at home because it seems we’re not making the most of our freedom. We feel guilty about everything, because we have always been kept far from decision making and from power.”
Ah… there it is.
Within this system I have always been kept from my power. And that’s what I’m so desperate to change (that’s why I can’t seem to follow the rules without gut-wrenching dread that I’m sacrificing my Soul).
The catch here, though, is that now I know my power resides within my own body.
Yes, the system continues to work to my detriment. But I’m no longer kept from my power in the same way. It’s like I’ve been holding the key to the cage this whole time - but I’m also blindfolded, sometimes belittled (and I think someone keeps moving the locks).
deep inhale. deep exhale.
I can’t see the solution with complete clarity (yet); all I know is that I need to stop asking for outside advice.
Or maybe, I need to start asking myself for advice first.
xx, alycia buenger