no time for bad days
THANK YOU for making the first nah brah master class a success
Ms. Addie, my neighbor across the street goes to a center for the elderly every day. Every day a bus comes and picks her up at 7:15 in the morning and drops her back off at around 4:15 in the afternoon. Most days I hear when the bus pulls up because I work from home and I leave the front door open, screen closed, so I can still hear my neighbors talking and listening to music and I don’t feel so isolated. When I hear the bus pull up at the end of the day, I go outside and help her down the stairs if our other neighbor Ronnie hasn’t beaten me to it—we help her get situated when her daughters are still at work, which is most days.
Every day I ask her how her day was and every day she tells me the same thing.
“I make my days good. Ain’t got no time for bad days,” she says as she pushes her walker with her fanny pack hanging off of it, moving forward slowly, step by step. If it feels good outside, she’ll sit on the porch for a minute and I’ll sit on the stairs at her feet. She’ll ask me what I did with my day and before I can answer she’ll say, “Nothing, I bet,” and wave me away with her arm and a click of her tongue.
My Maw Maw used to say it was up to me if I was happy or not and I ought to be happy at least 90% of the time. I think about that every time Ms. Addie says she makes her days good—like we have the power to do that, just make our days good. Maw Maw said it was simple. Ms. Addie seems to think so, too.
When Maw Maw died five years ago, I told Ms. Addie I was just a grandkid in search of a grandmother, thinking she might be interested in stepping in, but she told me she didn’t claim me, never one to be too sentimental.
Another reason they remind me so much of each other.
I’m not going to lie—sometimes it’s real hard for me to make my days good. I’m very rarely at anything less than full throttle and my nervous system has a hard time regulating the intensity of my emotions and stress levels. In the past, my stress has manifested itself physically as shingles (twice, both times after really bad breakups), vertigo (in the midst of another really bad relationship), and most recently as an alcohol intolerance, which is by far the worst. My face gets red and itchy, and my eyelids start swelling up about three sips in, my nervous system telling me I’ve lost my goddamn mind if I think inflaming my brain even more with alcohol is a good idea, putting an end to it real quick. On the list of things I currently can’t drink is natural wine and High Life, which is a real shame.
Anything Barefoot goes down like butter.
Knowing this about myself, I try to intersperse my days with activities that chill me out. When I start feeling unmoored—when that low grade fever starts hitting because I can’t stop thinking and feeling so much—I’ll go for a walk, lay in the grass on the bayou, work in my garden, read, play solitaire, write, do yoga, walk my dog. My grounding activities, I call them. I put them all in a list in a spreadsheet so I can center myself and track my daily habits, check them off as I go along, color coding my progress, which is the highlight of my days. The most exciting thing that happened to me last week is figuring out how to put checkboxes in a Google Sheet.
Rarely at anything less than full throttle.
But the thing that helps me most is to be in community.* And that’s not even on the list! Mainly because it happens so organically every time I open my door. Shit, even when I don’t open my door, Ronnie will come and sit on my stoop and yell my dog’s name until he starts barking and I’m forced to come shoot the shit.
Ain’t got no time for bad days.
The reason I haven’t been able to drink High Lifes (Lives?) this week is because I went into overtime preparing for the first nah brah master class, which was this Wednesday (it was a success! I’ll tell you more about it soon). I was nervous as all hell and also blown away by the amount of work it took to get it all done. All the researching, making the presentation, putting together the program, and building out everything on the backend. It was a lot and also a perfect opportunity for my dick of a nervous system to assert its dominance.
But there was no need to be nervous, because starting that zoom was like opening my front door. Instant, grounding community.
I helped Ms. Addie get on the bus again the other day. I held her walker at the bottom of the stairs, ready to hand it over to the bus driver after he buckled her in. She said hello to all the other old folks then nodded at me and said, “That’s my white daughter.”
Thanks to all of you who are reading this and to everyone who joined in on the first master class. The growth of this community has been as organic and beautiful as any other community I’ve ever been a part of, and honestly wilder than my wildest dreams after years of feeling pretty alone in this political & personal journey of mine. Thank you for being here, thank you for helping me stay grounded, and thank you for being a part of my life.
It feels good to be claimed.
*I know I’ve been talking a lot about community lately, but it’s a real thing y’all
some nah brah business:
the second nah brah master class is open for registration!
And remember! If you can’t make it the day of, you will have access to the zoom recording to watch at your convenience later. Also, there’s a 50% discount for paid subscribers of this newsletter, so upgrade your subscription now and take advantage! If you’re already a paid subscriber, scroll to the end of this email for the discount code.
more nah brah business:
Introducing gift subscriptions! If you are a paid subscriber and you know someone who would appreciate this newsletter and want to support this work, you can gift them a subscription. It would be much appreciated.
If you have an abortion story that you would like to share, please do so here.
Get your nah brah merch here, brah! Another excellent way to support me!