Not many people could make stalkers relatable, but Nora Ephron could!

It’s always Nancy Meyers this, Nancy Meyers that — but HOT TAKE: I find Nancy Meyers movies/aesthetic a little too saccharine for my taste. I can absolutely picture myself in a coffee shop with Meg Ryan, rolling our eyes about Cameron Diaz not being able to cry in The Holiday.

Don’t get me wrong, we both secretly love the movie, we’re just a tiny bit cynical. After all, we’re Nora Ephron heroines — we’re complicated!

The Nora Ephron heroine is a hopeless romantic with her guard up. She has witnessed and/or experienced it all. She struggles to be taken seriously in a male-dominated society, but she still follows her gut and stays true to herself. This often leads to anxiety, heartache, and questionable decisions (like flying to Seattle to stalk a man from a radio show!)

Here’s what we can learn from Nora Ephron and her Megs Ryan.

Romanticize everything.

At the first sign of a chill in the air, throw on a sweater or wrap yourself in a scarf. Take a leisurely stroll to the nearest coffee shop for an autumnal latte while listening to Stevie Nicks. Take pictures of the leaves, stop and smell the pumpkins, and immerse yourself in the natural beauty of the season.

Decorate for Christmas while drinking hot cocoa and listening to Christmas music.

Watch old movies and cry into your popcorn.

Everything is romantic if you do it with intention!

Be difficult, challenging even.

Do not take anything at face value, and don’t let anyone get away with their bullshit. If a man says something stupid, check him on it. If someone makes fun of you for something you love, CALL THEM OUT. We do not suffer fools.

We do not accept crumbs, or settle for our circumstances. We want big, beautiful lives and we won’t stop until we get them. We will not reduce anything about ourselves to be more pleasing or attractive to a man!

BUT WE WILL ALSO FEEL SAD THAT SOCIETY MADE US OUTLIERS. Why can’t we just be normal?

Sit with someone and not talk.

Invest your time in people who make you feel so at ease that you can just sit together and not talk. Whether you’re both reading, watching television, or sitting at a cafe people watching (and judging). Don’t put any effort into hosting, just have people over as they are. Wear pajamas, eat junk food, drink too much wine, and fill your social battery without leaving the house.

Have a good cry.

The human experience is beautiful, even when it’s heartbreaking.

Lose yourself in an inappropriate crush.

A stranger on the internet? The man who literally destroyed your business? A STRANGER ON THE INTERNET PRETENDING HE’S NOT THE GUY DESTROYING YOUR BUSINESS? All were good options for Kathleen Kelly in You’ve Got Mail!

Learn everything about them, including their address, and look it up on Google Maps. Imagine your life together — what cool spots in his neighborhood would be your date night go-to? Where are you going for bagels on Sunday? Make a Pinterest board for your wedding! Write your signature (with his last name) in cursive!

It doesn’t matter if you’re engaged to Bill Pullman, IT’S ALL IN GOOD FUN!

Basically —

The Nora Ephron heroine is romantic and cynical. Difficult and vulnerable. Independent and wanting to be loved. She has good judgment, yet makes insane decisions. She wants a beautiful life and is painfully aware that life isn’t always beautiful.

You know her. I know her. We both might even be her.

And thank God! Because we’re much more interesting for it!

Characters Who Aren’t From Nora Ephron Movies But Could Be

1. Elaine from Seinfeld

2. Denise Huxtable from The Cosby Show

3. Matilda from Matilda

4. Lucy from While You Were Sleeping

5. Mark Darcy from Bridget Jones’ Diary

6. The Hot Priest from Fleabag

7. Mary Oliver

8. Jessica Fletcher from Murder She Wrote

9. Fran Fine from The Nanny (she’d totally be a best friend)

10. Whitney Houston

Who else?!!?!?

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In Closing

I’m feeling the shift of the season. The mornings are cooler and I’m feeling the urge to nest. I love cozy season! I’m going to decorate for fall this week. My vibe is going to be Witchy Little Women… obviously.

I’ll be adding & updating all my holiday decor here. It’s one place where I feel credentialed as an influencer. That, and neurodivergent needs.

Also, did anyone watch Death of the Pastor’s Wife on Netflix?? If you’re interested in more, I recommend the True Sunlight podcast. They’ve been on the case for two years!

Have a great week!

H&G (Hi & Goodbye),
Patty

“I’ve just had another difficult conversation with L where I left feeling on edge and uncomfortable. I worry that we will never find common ground. I have put a lot of effort into the relationship - but it seems that unless I completely flex to him and agree with everything he says, then we will never move forward. I am struggling with showing up and feeling comfortable being myself, it has been exhausting trying to be someone he wants me to be.”

His boss supported me and we entered mediation, where he argued every point I made and yelled at me in front of the mediator while I cried. It felt like marriage counseling. The organization ultimately decided that there was nothing they could do aside from feedback and I promptly gave my notice.

I didn’t want to go, I loved that job. I just couldn’t work for an authoritative leader who literally yelled at women and called them liars.

I was proud of that decision, but it catapulted me into a depressive episode. Everything I thought I had known about authenticity and leadership was thrown out the window, and “the system” I trusted did not protect or validate me. Unless he was physically harming me, they couldn’t justify that I was in an unsafe environment.

Side note: Psychological safety at work is essential—especially amid crisis

But feedback is a GIFT!

I work in HR so I know that feedback is a gift.

A gift that I would often like to “accidentally” leave behind at a White Elephant gift exchange, but a gift nonetheless.

Here are some other gifts I’ve received throughout my career:

“Your company-wide emails always make me laugh, but some people might not appreciate your use of the F word.”

and

“Say ‘room’ again,”

“Room.” (pronounced rum)

“You say that weird.”

and

“You could never work anywhere else in Germany!”

Got it. I’ve been hearing the same message time-over-time: conform to cultural standards of women.

I’m a pretty self-aware person, and have learned to “play the game” and “be more professional” over time, but I also have this annoying trait where I HAVE TO BE MYSELF AT ALL TIMES. Warts and all!

Thankfully, I have also received feedback that my authenticity is an asset. But it’s clear that there’s a line, and I am walking it. All women are walking it!

• Be warm, or else you’re a frigid bitch!!!

• Challenge the status quo, but yield to authority

• Be compassionate, but remember that people are merely boxes in an org chart

• Bring new ideas to the table! Unless someone takes it personally or isn’t ready for change and now they feel bad and it’s all your fault :(

This creates ridiculous pressure to mask parts of identity, over-edit our communication, and constantly question if we’re too much / not enough.

What happens when the mask slips?

I’m on vacation this week because I’ve been feeling burnt out. I was waking up at 2am every day with work-related stress and couldn’t fall back asleep. I was starting to get “snippy” in meetings, everyone was annoying me, and I felt overwhelmed by the smallest of tasks.

My manager was very supportive, but I think she was surprised. I was still driving projects, getting work done, facilitating, and showing up to meetings with a smile on my face and a joke on the tip of my tongue!

I didn’t appear unwell, but what’s the other option?

Through years of (explicit and implicit) feedback and one recent experience, I’ve been taught to power through, deal with emotions in private, be happy, be confident, and go with the flow.

Otherwise, I will be judged and labeled “emotional” or “resistant” or “unable to keep up with the pace”. That would jeopardize my career and reputation. I don’t want to risk that, so I put concealer on my eye bags and persevere!

It’s bigger than a workplace problem.

Unless you’ve been living under a rock1 — the Lindsay Clancy trial is underway in Plymouth county, Massachusetts. (TW: suicide, child death)

When I first heard the basic information, it was easy for me to label her as a monster.

Then postpartum depression and “possibly” postpartum psychosis entered the chat and I was like, “That’s unfortunate, but there MUST have been signs! She could have got help!”

After hearing the extent of the situation, many of us (women especially) are actively understanding the scope of what went wrong. She was battling a mental health crisis that was exacerbated by overmedication, and still trying to be present well so she would be taken seriously.

As an armchair juror, I have watched weeks of testimonies and have come to a sad realization.

Women are taught to constantly edit, soften, and mask themselves to remain acceptable — and then we become so good at performing “fine” that we create a society that does not believe us even when we tell it we're anything but fine.

Lindsay was rejected from psychiatric treatment, denied help by the suicide prevention hotline twice, taken on and off various medications without medical inquiry, had her concerns ignored, and despite this all being brought into evidence by the prosecution, they’re arguing that she did this deliberately because she didn’t look like this:

We are told our whole lives to NOT LOOK LIKE THE VILLAGE WITCH even in the most dire circumstances, and then we get penalized and blamed for NOT LOOKING LIKE THE VILLAGE WITCH!

We can’t win. And it’s making me sad. It certainly isn’t helping me relax this week!!

I suppose we can’t fix society, misogyny, or women’s healthcare overnight. But you know who could?

Taking the feedback.

We’re damned if we do, damned if we don’t — so let’s stop worrying about getting it right. Let’s show up as we are and let others perceive us. Let’s not hide what’s going on, let’s say what we actively feel. Let’s believe others, notice the signs, ask questions, and create environments where people feel safe to be honest and not fear retribution.

You want hysterical? I’ll show you hysterical!!!

FIVE THINGS

1. I’m reading this modern retelling of Pride and Prejudice: Eligible by Curtis Sittenfeld. Not usually my thing, outside of cheesy Hallmark movies, but it’s good!

2. I want this Widow’s Bay t-shirt. The next Martha’s Vineyard!

3. My sister and I went to New Hampshire this week and listened to A Spy Among Friends and now we’re watching the show. The act of being a spy is so crazy to me.

4. This witchy phone case might heal me.

5. Everything you need to hike your anxiety away!

In the before times (pre-pandemic), I had a friend who frequently made mean comments about me. She rarely did it when we were alone, instead choosing to say them loudly and proudly in front of everyone in the room.

I’m paraphrasing because my memory is shot, but these are real examples burned into my brain:

“Patty, can you pull the back of my bathing suit up over my back fat? She gets it, it’s a fat girl thing.”

or

“D, can you tell YOUR friend Patty to stop doing [x]?”

or

“If you didn’t want me to take and send pictures of you sleeping with your butt showing, you shouldn’t have passed out drunk on our couch.”

Most people laughed, and I did too, but it never quite felt like I was in on the joke. I could tell when her jokes were coming from a place of love, and when it was pure disdain. Regardless of the intention, the impact was, “I don’t feel like I belong here.”

It all came to a head on our last trip together. The two of us were sharing a room and she slept there one night before choosing to sleep in the living room — without air conditioning — the rest of the trip. She never addressed it with me, so I was left anxious, unsettled, and very sad.1

On the last night, I approached my friend who brought me into the group and told him how I felt. My intention was to seek advice for how to approach the situation with her, but he told me I was wrong and she’d never said anything to him about it2, but I could just ask her.

I decided that maybe I was being crazy, so I didn’t address it. But he eventually told her, and somehow it got blown out of proportion3 and we all never spoke again.

Even though I knew, even then, that it had nothing to do with me, I’ve still carried the label she attached to me — that I was messy — for years.

Messy: careless, untidy, disorganized, chaotic, clumsy, sloppy, unkempt, insensitive, WRONG.

It’s not the first time I’ve heard it.

I grew up in comedy, many jokes have been made at my expense! For spraining my ankles multiple times (clumsy), getting too emotional and sentimental when I drink (sloppy), making bad decisions when it comes to men (chaotic), being impulsive (careless), and not listening or following directions (disorganized).

The compounded interest of these jokes led to me feeling like I was just made wrong.

Yet, the more I distance myself from that world, and people who make me feel bad about myself, I realize… BLESS THIS GOD DAMN MESS.

Many of the reasons people made fun of me are ACTUALLY strengths of mine. They’re the reasons I am a strong performer at work, and why other people enjoy being my friend or having me on their team. Sure, the addition of alcohol didn’t always help, but now that I drink less socially, I am the same person!

I still fall all the time, overshare, get emotional, make impulsive decisions, go with my gut, follow my heart, learn lessons the hard way, kiss questionable men (DJs, pilots, body builders… YOU NAME ‘EM!), and CLAM SLAM AN EMPTY DANCE FLOOR IN MY VICTORIAN NIGHTGOWN.

Being neurodivergent doesn’t help, because I think and move very fast and sometimes forget (or purposefully ignore) social norms. I am going to challenge, and do my best to change, the status quo. Some people don’t like that because they don’t want anything to change. Whether it’s because they currently hold the power, or because they’re afraid of something new.

I am quick-witted, clever, articulate, audacious, defiant, and easy to connect with — and those are not traits inherently prized in a woman. So, when I think of all the people who made “jokes” at my expense, I realize that I was likely threatening something within them. Their ego, their place, their power, their trusted system, etc.

And I get it, I’ve been there too! So I forgive them, and I am reclaiming my messiness.

Messy: curious, open-minded, funny, positive, engaging, audacious, empathetic, loving, welcoming, imaginative, willing, hopeful, free, enthusiastic, and FUN.

Of course, there are things I’ve had to learn like listening, and slowing down, organization, and gauging appropriate situations for challenge. But overall, I am proud what I bring to the MESSY ASS TABLE THAT IS LIFE.

FIVE THINGS

1. I am going to London in September and I can’t wait to go back to sketch. It’s the most fun!!

2. These press-on nails consistently last me TWO WEEKS and they don’t damage my nails. I prefer the short styles, but love an almond for a special event.

3. Pillow Talk, starring Doris Day and Rock Hudson, is one of the funniest ‘50s movies I’ve seen. It’s like You’ve Got Mail, except he’s not trying to destroy her business. It really holds up, except for the whole premise about party lines. Thelma Ritter steals the show!

4. I’ve been wearing these adidas satin shorts every day. I’m slowly reverting back to my pre-teen self. The only downside is no pockets.

5. IMO, Quince sheets are just as good as Parachute. I can’t buy expensive sheets anymore because my dog rips them up. :(

I took next week off because I am burnt the F out from causing so much chaos and destruction at work. It’s time to go play as hard as I work! And by that, I mean religiously follow the Lindsay Clancy trial on Court TV.

ANYONE ELSE?!?! DUDE WTF?!?!

I love you always forever,
Patty

“Can I have a glass of Pinot Grigio with ice on the side?”

“Sure, which side?”

- hilarious bartender at my hotel in Portland, Maine

My summer bucket list is just to spend time in every New England state.

While staying in Maine last week for work, I forced myself out of the comfort of my hotel room to have dinner at one of my favorite restaurants, Wayside Tavern.

I brought my book (All About Love), ordered a steak and a cosmo and settled in to have the evening of my life when a woman came in and sat on my right side. She was a local, everybody knew her name, she ordered some sort of pink drink with vodka, then took out her computer to write.

I loved her. I wanted to be her.

We shared polite conversation about steak (obviously) when a few minutes later, another woman came in and sat to my left.

“We had the same idea tonight!” She said, whipping a large book out of her bag.

“I know! Apparently it’s ladies night!” I said, acknowledging the small bar full of ladies.

“Cheers ladies!” The local said, raising her glass.

I honestly don’t know how it happened, but we quickly became best friends. The manuscript was left untouched, the books remained unread. We gabbed about books, Portland, work, life, everything. We eventually got booted from the bar because there were other reservations.

They moved us to the waiting area and we continued to chat for what felt like hours. Long enough for the local woman to fall off her stool from laughter… or maybe because she was a little bit drunk.

I learned that she’s 66, lives in Portland’s West End with her husband and they feel like newlyweds again after selling their house in the suburbs. She writes fiction, and would love to travel to Iceland.

The woman to my right was my age — we both just turned 40 — and she’s a Sagittarius accountant who truly, deeply loves excel. But, she was a theater kid and took an improv intensive where she was forced to pretend she was dying of the plague for ONE HOUR.

And the instructor didn’t even debrief it!!!!

I returned to my hotel that evening a little buzzed, and high off the energy of good conversation with interesting women. It was so refreshing. Women are so refreshing.

So often when I travel and sit alone at bars, it’s lonely salesmen who engage me in conversation...

WHICH BRINGS ME TO NIGHT TWO.

I was feeling less social this night after a long day of facilitation. I was going to order room service, but I felt I needed a transition away from my computer.

I really just wanted to read at the hotel bar this time, so I sat at the very end, almost tucked away, so I wouldn’t be perceived as someone interested in speaking.

But, then the bartender made that very unexpected joke and I had to fucking say something.

“That was good. I’m writing it down in my notebook for the book I’m writing.” I said, literally writing it as I spoke.

“Are you writing a book?” A bar patron asked.

What a complicated question. Like, yes, but also no. But also, I was being facetious? How do you explain all of that to someone who doesn’t know you and therefore doesn’t understand your weird personality?

“I might someday!” I said.

Then, the guy sitting between us decided we were all there together. 🙄

He talked to/at both of us about his propane job on railway cars, his frequent travels to Maine from Connecticut, his ex-wife, his current girlfriend, his dog, taxes (???), and his Vegas high-roller status from playing SLOTS.

I heard the other guy was a pilot for American Airlines, and that’s about it. Neither of us could get a word in.

It was the exact opposite of the magic from the night before.

Pilot left to take a call, and that’s when Propane decided to tell me that I was a very beautiful woman.

Side-note: Men love to tell me I’m beautiful in a way that insinuates my beauty is untraditional and most people would find me hideous, but THEY don’t. Even my ex would tell me that I was “unassuming” all the time. Does anyone else experience that??

🙄

When Pilot came back, I made “help me” eyes at him. I don’t trust men, but for some reason, I trusted him more.

I closed out my tab, so the guys did too. As Propane was waiting for his bill, Pilot ushered me towards the stairwell so we wouldn’t have to take the elevator with him. We were dying laughing climbing the stairs, as if we just escaped our death.

We exchanged numbers, and found out we had the same name. He was Patrick, but goes by Pat. I’m Patricia, I go by Patty.

So, naturally, when he texted me to keep hanging out — I invited him up to my room, but MADE IT CLEAR that I was make-up free, in pajamas, and that he shouldn’t expect ANY FUNNY BUSINESS.

We watched Arrested Development and talked in our pajamas for two hours. Then, literally as he was leaving, there was A LITTLE FUNNY BUSINESS, okay?!?!? We just kissed!!

I’m no prude, but he’s a pilot. He’s gotta be creeping his way into girl’s hotel rooms to watch old sitcoms with them all across the country!

The next day, I wasn’t sure if I had been bamboozled. Did Propane come off creepy to me because he had no self-awareness and directly hit on me? Did Pilot play the long-game by looking like the hero compared to him? Was I being too harsh, or were they both the worst? Did you know Captain Sully — who landed the plane in the Hudson River — got FIRED for ruining the plane??!!?

Can a woman sit at a hotel bar with men and not have to worry about all of this?!?!!? I just wanted to read my traumatic book about love!

Next time, I’m still opting to sit at the bar — because I genuinely love the magic of connecting with strangers — but I think I’ll opt for the seat closest to a woman. They’re safe, interesting, and almost always a much better time!

At the very least, I think I’ll avoid chain hotel bars with lonely, transient men. I don’t think we’re looking for the same type of ✨ mAGiCaL CoNNeCtiOn ✨.

FIVE THINGS

1. After this interview with Jake Johnson, I wouldn’t mind sitting next to him at a bar. He seems like a really fun time! He IS Nick, his New Girl character.

2. I really like this Rare Beauty soft pinch lip oil stick. It’s a lipstick, but also a gloss? And it dries like a stain? So many things in one. I’m also a weirdo who only supports Selena, so I have never tried a Rhode product despite all the hype.

3. This is the kind of spooky Halloween decor I would keep up all year.

4. Currently listening to this & reading this. Very different vibes.

5. I bookmarked this newsletter with the best search terms for vintage tees.

My next New England adventure is to Provincetown, MA this weekend. I feel very safe in P-Town!

xoxoxoxoxo,
Patty

I know I’m not alone because “going analog” is everywhere right now. The Atlantic even launched a podcast called, “Touch Grass” — which I can’t wait to listen to.

We’re going through perimenopause, we’re overusing AI, we’re overstimulated by social media, we’re watching the simulation that is Love Island every day and actually investing in the couples. (idk am I coming around to Melanie and Sincere?)

SO — a month ago, I learned that you can “Brick” your phone with an app. I’ve heard feedback that apps are less effective because you can turn them off whenever you want. However, with the Foqos app – you can’t! *not an ad

I cut a bar code off a granola bar box (you can use a QR code, or any bar code) and taped it to a magnet on my fridge. I set my schedule for NO social media 6am-6pm every week day. Other than an allotted 15-minute break, I can’t access Instagram, Threads, TikTok, Reddit, or Facebook for 12 hours every day.

Beginner thoughts:

“I can’t believe how often I open my phone and immediately go to open Instagram.”

“What do I do when I’m making lunch now that I can’t use that as TikTok time?”

“Even Reddit? Why’d I do this to myself????”

Within a few days though, I just kind of forgot.

Eventually, I stopped grabbing for my phone because I knew it was off-limits. I have ZERO notifications on my phone, other than phone calls, so I was less distracted by it. I even stopped checking texts as often, which is a good thing for me because I have ADHD and get lost in them.

I have too many funny friends and I could do bits all damn day.

What I’ve been doing instead:

Working. Like, I actually focus on work. 😂 I cannot believe how much I can get done in a day.

Actually, the only time I turned it off early is because MY MANAGER sent me the West Wilson whiteboard TikTok and I had to watch. So, if I get dinged for productivity it’s HER FAULT.

Listening to audiobooks while I clean, drive, and walk. I’m on my THIRD audiobook in as many weeks. I’ve been having trouble focusing on reading all year(s?) and I realize it’s because there’s so many other quicker distractions. I appreciate short-form content, but it’s been so nice to dive into a story and feel eager to go back to it.

Books I’ve listened to:

• Yesteryear by Caro Claire Burke (4/5)

• My Husbands Wife by Alice Feeney (3.5/5)

• Guided: The Secret Path to an Illuminated Life by Laura Lynne Jackson (4/5)

• Chasing Beauty: The Life of Isabella Stewart Gardner by Natalie Dykstra *currently listening

Reading actual books! I love a physical book, or even reading on my Kindle, but my brain has felt so fried. I’ve been taking books to the dog park, or throwing down a picnic blanket in a park to read — I’ve even been going to bed early just to read.

Books I’ve read:

• A New Earth by Eckhart Tolle (4.5/5)

• Theo of Golden by Allen Levi (10/5, gimme 14 more of them)

• All About Love by bell hooks *currently reading

Journaling. It’s nearly impossible for me to read a physical book without a notebook by my side. That’s probably why it’s taking me so long to finish books. I love to jot down quotes or thoughts that resonate.

Taking a writing class. Earlier in the year, I signed up for a writing class through Off Assignment on Monday nights not thinking that 7-9:30pm on a Monday night is not my best time in terms of energy. The class is recorded, so I’ve been working through every Monday’s class in chunks throughout the week. Although I miss the “participant” element, I feel like I’m more invested and soaking in the content more.

Writing. Obviously, that’s part of the class as there have been assignments. Sometimes I write for this newsletter, but sometimes I write just for me. I even printed out a hard copy of a novel I wrote three years ago to read it and edit it by hand. 😧

Napping. I’ve been taking a lot of naps. My eyes get tired when I read! Also, I’m tired!

Using my red light mask! I got it two weeks ago and I’ve used it every single morning for the timed 12-minutes! I could watch TV, or read, write, etc. but I usually just close my eyes and sit there while the mask vibrates. It’s my attempt at meditating.

Talking to people out and about. Instead of scrolling, I talk to people in lines, at the dog park, while shopping, etc. I mean, I’m not a fucking weirdo about it, but I engage strangers a lot more and you know what? It does brighten my day, and theirs!

Paying attention. I read a quote that said, “Pets are just a chapter in our lives, but we’re their whole book. Make every page count.” Obviously, I cried, so I’ve been walking without headphones and paying more attention to my pets — even when I’m trying to go to sleep and the damn CAT won’t stop trying to play FETCH with a hair tie!!!!

Intentionally texting. Like I said, I could get caught up in texts all day. I’ve preferred actively opening up my Messages and intentionally engaging with friends rather than responding quickly and then disappearing again and forgetting to go back.

Where I’m still struggling:

Anxious scrolling. In the moments when I feel anti-social and anxious, being on my phone is my way of having my guard up. I’ve used the “15-minute break” feature for this a few days while at the dog park. It doesn’t make me feel better, but I try to make those 15 minutes count!

Getting too obsessed with the dopamine. Sometimes, I’ll go on Instagram during the evening, catch up on all the memes I’ve been sent throughout the day, and then GO SCROLLING. I also feel like I’m posting on Stories more because I have all this pent up energy from lack of content throughout the day. Those little likes and hearts and clicks are really addicting.

What do I do with all these FUNNY POST IDEAS? I’ll think of ideas throughout the day and have nowhere to post them!!! Sometimes, I’ll post it on Substack just for the “engagement” of it all. Other times, I’ll write the idea in my Notes and forget about it or go to post it later and realize it’s not that funny. 😂

Social media AS websites. Some places have replaced actual websites with their social media. Sometimes it’s hard to find hours of coffee shops or updated information without access to social media.

What’s next:

I’m going to keep doing it!

It has been way easier than I thought, and I don’t feel deprived or out of touch because I have dedicated hours in the day where I am able to access the apps. I feel way more present, enriched, and even healthier in a way?

I definitely maybe have less brain fog. My MRI scan would look more like this now:

Except I’m still very tired!!! Time for another nap.

I hope this inspires you to get off socials and get back to living. Smell the air! Feel the flowers! Eat your cheeses! Recommend me a book to read!

You can do whatever you like… just don’t let the good life pass you by.

All my lovin’,
Patty

Today’s post is part of my new I’m Learnding series where I unpack learnings from little life experiences that click things into place. In each edition, I’ll share an idea that changed the way I think, how I put it into practice, and what happened next. Sometimes it works, other times… everything’s copy!!!

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I knew something was wrong before I even saw the body.

I woke up the same way I do every morning — tired and not ready to start another day. Billie (dog) greeted me excitedly from the end of the bed, wagging her tail and whining for belly scratches. Holly (cat), however, missed her cue (my turning off the fan) to jump up and greet me.

She had been acting really weird, almost possessed, the day before, so I anxiously got out of bed to find her. As soon as I left the bedroom, there she was. Staring intently at Billie’s empty bowl of food.

Or… was it empty?

“Holly! What are you doing????” I said, like a woman in a horror movie who knows what’s about to happen.

Then I saw it.

A tail, draped over the side of the bowl.

Mice are one of my biggest irrational fears, second only to city fire escapes unlatching and killing me instantly. (I have never seen that happen, I just know that it could.)

On the unforgettable night of September 11, 2001, I couldn’t fall asleep. Not because of what had happened that day, but because I saw a mouse in my bedroom. I slept on the living room couch because apparently they couldn’t get me there? I didn’t sleep in my own bedroom for months.

Which is how long the mice haunted my family. I’d see faint glimpses of them running against the floor boards, we’d hear them squeaking when they got stuck in traps, and even witnessed one mouse biting its own tail off to escape. (Well, I didn’t personally witness that, I watched my crying sister witness it.)

After hearing me talk to my friends about the mice, my father yelled at me. He told me not to tell people because they would think we’re dirty, gross people. Except, my friends were over every single day and they knew we weren’t. Mice are just like… a thing?

A common thing I’m very much afraid of.

So, there I stood — horrified — while my cat playfully murdered one of those things.

I remained frozen in the entryway for what felt like hours, as she carted the carcass around in her mouth. I couldn’t stop staring because I was afraid she’d leave it somewhere and I wouldn’t be able to find it.

Then, I heard a voice in the back of my mind.

“What do you think is going to happen? Why are you so afraid?”

Good question, voice. I guess I’m afraid because:

• I don’t like to see animals die, even if I don’t like them!

• What if Holly carries it into my bed and drops it on me when I’m sleeping?!?!

• What if it doesn’t die and I have to listen to it suffer all day and eventually just put it out of its misery?

• What if there are thousands more where that one came from?

• They’re slimy and gross and DIRTY!!!

But, what if that doesn’t happen?

I’ve been practicing an exercise lately when I have anxiety. I write every story I could possibly create about what could go wrong, and either realize it’s not that big of a deal or think through how I’d respond.

In my coaching work, I use visualizations all the time — especially to help people mentally picture BEST case scenarios. People typically see themselves fulfilled in their work, independent, lively, etc.

But sometimes, I want to ruin the party by asking a follow up question, “And what if that doesn’t happen?” to help people mentally test their own resilience.

It’s fun to visualize the good stuff — success, freedom, joy — but it’s much harder to connect the dots between that future and the reality of today. It’s hard to take action, it’s very easy to daydream.

I’m noticing that a huge cause of suffering is the dissonance between what we want and what we don’t have. We focus our energy on some future state of perfection, without acknowledging where we are today or using that energy to get us through the current moment.

“I want THAT and I won’t be happy until I achieve THAT.”

Or,

“I don’t want to be going through THIS right now, I want THIS to end right now.”

OK, AND WHAT IF THAT DOESN’T HAPPEN?

What will you do then?

I don’t ask this because I don’t believe in people, or even myself… I ask because I want to bring attention to the fact that lives don’t always go as planned. I think it’s helpful to anticipate that. When we spend too much time focused on a future state that doesn’t yet exist, it’s harder to exist in the present — or recover when things go awry.

To some, failure is not an option and the sheer reminder of its existence is all the motivation they need. Others might like finding strategies for handling obstacles, or identifying the non-negotiables of their future state. Like, okay, it’s fine if I live in a shack as long as it’s with a Lawrence brother.

The neuroscience behind this is name it to tame it. When you name your fears and worst case scenarios, it helps you tame the emotions around them. We basically don’t have control over anything, and the more we understand that, the more we realize that we’re going to be okay.

In THIS PARTICULAR case, I calmed down and knew I would be okay. The worst that would happen is I’d have to get rid of a dead mouse, but I’d be okay. It wouldn’t be fun, and I’d rather be anywhere else, but I walked through my fear and I survived.

And you will too.

But, unfortunately, that mouse didn’t 😩

1. Pay attention to your thoughts and notice when you’re spiraling about something.

2. PAUSE.

3. Ask yourself, “What’s the worst that could happen?”

4. Go there. Name it. NAME IT ALL.

5. Keep asking, “then what?” and keep answering the question, even when the answers get really uncomfortable.

6. Write down, or mentally note, all the options you have or ways you’ll survive the scenario.

Other things: This puffy picnic blanket is the best purchase I’ve made for summer 2026. All weekend, while recovering from a stomach bug, I threw it down in shady parks and read Theo of Golden (which is so, so good.)

Happy Honda-days!,
Patty

Most days, I bring Billie to the dog park. It’s a beautiful little spot (albeit, covered in dog poop) right next to a pond — lots of trees for shade, benches to sit on, and water fowl to laugh at because they’re all such assholes.

I enjoy going there to sit and read, or chat with other dog owners whose names I don’t know because I only ask the names of their dogs. As I’ve been navigating chronic stress issues, it’s become a very peaceful part of my day.

UNTIL RECENTLY.

This man started going around the same time as me. He has a high-energy Jack Russell terrier named Rudy. He’s pretty cute. The dog, not the man. The man is, in fact, gruff and quiet and not cute at all.

Since he’s been coming around, I’ve learned some lore. That he uses his cane to get dogs away from him, he once worked in international banking, and that he can’t walk much so he angrily screams “RUDY!” for what feels like hours when he’s ready to leave.

He’s sort of like the neighbor in Home Alone, or Crazy Pete in Now and Then. (90s kids movies had a lot of stranger danger, huh?) Just one of those guys people avoid out of fear and whisper about behind their back.

That is, until, I confronted him TO HIS FACE!

It was a gorgeous, 80-degree day. I was chatting with Jeanne (dog mother of my best friends, Bert and Ernie) while sipping on an iced coffee — living my best life. Suddenly, there was a kerfuffle with other dogs. Ravioli (a golden retriever) played too hard with Rudy and spooked him a little bit.

Ravioli’s owner rushed over and pulled him off immediately, but Rudy’s owner was still not pleased.

“If your dog goes after my dog again, I will take his head off.”

The woman stared back at him in stunned silence.

“What did you just say?!?” she asked, confused.

As they continued to spar, with him saying increasingly horrible things, I felt like the woman needed help exiting the situation. So, I inserted myself.

“Her dog is restrained and everyone is okay, I think she gets it. You can stop now.”

“How about you mind your own business?” he said.

“You just told someone you were going to cut their dog’s head off.”

“No, I didn’t. I said I was going to take the dog’s head off.”

“Would love to know how that’s any different.”

Then he told me to calm down, and I got activated. I hardly remember what I said, but I believe I went on and on about how we’re a community and we shouldn’t treat each other like that, and he told ME to calm down while he’s threatening women… blah blah blah. But in a very stern tone!

“You know what? You’re right. Does that make you feel better? You’re right.”

He repeated “You’re right” dismissively until I shut up. I turned to walk back to my peaceful little bench, but then got in one last word:

“Good luck getting Rudy to leave today. Yesterday, I helped you leash him and several of us have picked up his poop for you, but if you’re going to talk to people like that, then we’re not going to help you anymore.”

And I did just that. I sat on that bench, and I refused to help him as he struggled to leash Rudy. Jeanne wanted to help so badly, because it was getting really awkward, but I wouldn’t let her.

HE NEEDED TO LEARN THE CONSEQUENCES OF HIS OWN ACTIONS!!!!

I left the park feeling proud of myself for standing up to a bully and stepping in to defend someone who was being treated unfairly.

BUT THEN.

I started to feel really bad.

Of course, what he said was horrific. But clearly something deeper was going on there.

I’m currently reading A New Earth by Eckhart Tolle and he writes a lot about the “pain-body” which is who reacts in those triggering moments. Not our true selves, but our pain selves.

He says,

“Almost every human body is under a great deal of strain and stress, not because it is threatened by some external factor but from within the mind. The body has an ego attached to it, and it cannot help but respond to all the dysfunctional thought patterns that make up the ego.”

Dog Park Guy is suffering. Physically, of course, but he is likely suffering emotionally as well. The ego loves to build up a story about who we are, and it’s almost never positive. We carry all that baggage around with us long enough until we lose ourselves and BECOME OUR BAGGAGE.

SO…

I apologized.

A week later, I walked in the park and greeted an excited Rudy. He turned around and saw it was me.

“Hi, how are you?” I said.

“Good, and you?” He responded.

“Good… I wanted to apologize for our last interaction.”

I sat down next to him on the bench.

“I was just trying to help, but then I got triggered and just made it worse. I realize that you must be dealing with a lot of pain and stress, and it’s hard to manage reactions when you’re in that space.”

He was quiet for a couple of seconds before turning to me:

“I would like to apologize as well. What I said was wrong, and being in pain is no excuse to treat people that way.”

We ended up talking for an hour or so, and I learned that he has lived all over the world, his kids are currently living in Austria while they finish school, his ex-wife is living in Hungary, and that he is a super intelligent, kind man with a lot of serious health issues.

As I sat there and listened, I noticed that he started to say hello to people as they came in, and told the people leaving to have a nice day.

Is it really that simple? Do we just need to have more compassion for others? Do we just need to be more kind and listen to each other? Is community and connection the key to releasing all that baggage?

I don’t know… but what I do know is —

I GOT AN APOLOGY FROM A MAN!!!!

Just kidding.

BUT, it did feel good. And it opened the door for connection! Sometimes, we just have to swallow our pride and make the first move.

1. How The West Was Done by Hunter Harris. I am so ready to move on from this Summer House drama and not see West on my screen any longer.

2. The styling cream with a wand that really works for baby hairs.

3. Seth Meyers is Forced to Play Trivia While Admitting He's Getting Dumber. I love Seth and Ike’s relationship. They’ve been friends forever and it SHOWS!

4. A free way to “brick” your phone – it works!!! (thanks for the tip, !) I’ve been doing it all week from 6am - 5pm and it’s pretty interesting how often I reach for my phone and aimlessly open an app.

5. These shorts are really comfortable even though I feel like I’m trying too hard to look young in them.

It’s been a while. I have been writing so much — in my voice notes to myself, in work notebooks, in various untitled Google docs — yet I can’t finish a damn thought. I’m overstimulated, and I am trying too hard to make it “perfect” or even just “right”.

So, let’s just have some coffee and chat.

In this state of unrest, I’ve had a severe case of the shoppies. And the eaties. And the drinkies. But those aren’t as fun or cute to talk about — although, these Haribo gummies are my new favorite.

Here’s just a highlight at SOME of the things I’ve bought:

1. Damson Madder checked mini dress for $100 less on Farfetch.

2. Jelly shoes.

3. A penguin-covered picnic blanket.

4. A work tote. I already have 23,000.

5. 32 Capybara stickers. I can’t figure out where to put them. I am VERY weird about stickers. I don’t want to waste them, and I’m afraid I’ll hate where I put it. So they just sit there.

6. A work basket. For when the work tote just won’t do.

I know that I am using shopping to fill a void. The problem is, I don’t know what that void is. Sometimes, that’s the joy of depression. You’re sad, unfulfilled, and exhausted… but you can’t put your finger on why.

I’m also reading Eckhart Tolle’s A New Earth. I’m reading it slowly and listening to the Oprah series where she breaks down each chapter with Eckhart. Say what you want about Oprah, but the woman can facilitate material in human terms.

A New Earth is about ego, humans being completely identified with the voices in their head, their own minds.

“The content you identify with is conditioned by your environment, your upbringing, and surrounding culture.”

Basically, let me try to Oprah this, I often identify myself as a Bostonian raised in a traditional Irish-Catholic family. I’m a New Englander through-and-through. I’m a woman in comedy. I’m unmarried, single, childless, etc. I’m a dog mom! A crazy cat lady! I’m a certified leadership coach. A younger sister. A Taurus. I’m very white and unfortunately straight.

Those are all my “identities”. They are answers to the question, “Who am I?” but they are not who I really am.

Just like those 32 Capybara stickers I bought, they are words/labels I peel off a sheet and place on my body! Why? Because, WHO AM I IF I’M NOT THOSE THINGS?

When any of those roles get threatened, I get mad/sad/angry/upset/etc. I resist, I dig my claws in, I force them to be real and true — because they’re all I have! They are what make me important, damnit!

So, if they’re not all I have… if they’re NOT what make me important, then what’s left?

“Mastery of life is not a question of control, but of finding a balance between human and Being.”

I don’t know what that means.

I am overstimulated all the time, including right now because MY HANDS ARE STICKY.

I go to work and I feel very passionate about what I do. Sometimes, I end the workday angry or frustrated because there are too many people involved in decision-making. That anger and frustration carries over into my evening, it affects my mood, and ultimately keeps me in a cycle of stress and anxiety. Which, now that I’m 40, is impacting my health.

As in, my body stops working sometimes and my blood pressure is very high.

But it’s not just work, it’s everything. I want to be good at everything I do - a good worker, a good friend, a good sister, a good performer, a good writer, etc. But why?

What actually happens if I drop a ball?

What actually happens when we outgrow old roles, labels, and stories that we’ve identified with for our whole lives?

I love my cute, new Damson Madder dress. Even though I only ordered it because it satisfied my ego’s need to be cute!!!

The dress, however, has not solved any of my problems. Neither has any of the other things I have done for the sake of one of my various identities: losing weight, blonding my hair, doing shows, writing this Substack, posting on social media, etc.

Some of them bring me joy, and that is enough for me! But I don’t want to spend my entire life TRYING TO FIT INTO BOXES I PUT MYSELF IN in an attempt to control someone else’s perception of me, and soothe my own ego.

I know, I’m sorry, I just talked about myself forever, but does any of this hit for you? Is this relatable? Are we all in a constant state of HUH?

Are you still there?

Oh, have I been drinking my coffee and talking into the void again?

Gotcha.

I’ll… I’ll just go.

Thanks for listening!

I turned 40 last week! I’m not mad about it. I really enjoyed my 30s, but they were pretty tumultuous. Actually, I think my 30s were more difficult than my 20s because I lost my naivety. I was no longer The Fool, or the ingénue. I was an adult woman with expectations and reality got more serious.

I am not expecting this next decade to be easy — or even easier — by any means. However, I can say that I’m feeling much more at peace with who I am and how I show up in the world. I’m still stressed & depressed, but I’m also blessed?

Idk. I’m sorry for sounding like a mug from HomeGoods.

1. If you decide to go to college, minor in a topic you’re extremely interested in, even though it will do nothing for your career and nobody cares when you drop useless art history terms like CARYATID or CHIAROSCURO.

2. Move to a new state until you know your way around.

3. Lie to your parents about having a place to stay and take the $15 Fung-Wah bus to NYC with strangers for nerdy comedy reasons.

4. Trust your gut.

5. … but also, fuck around and find out sometimes.

6. Rescue a dog, even though it’s scary and exhausting at first.

7. Watch Arrested Development and 30 Rock.

8. Focus more on influence than power at work. (AKA be likable, not feared)

9. Be kind, even when you’re not being nice.

10. Take classes you want to take (e.g. improv, yoga, pilates, ceramics, etc.) even though they’re intimidating. You’re allowed to be new at something.

11. STAY TRUE TO YOURSELF. Even if people tease or disagree with you.

12. Realize that nobody is looking at you… nobody cares about you! In a good way!

13. Stay in touch with your friends — consider them, let them know when you’re thinking of them, and show them that you care.

14. BE A MAXIMALIST. Decorate your home with all the things that bring you joy.

15. Take advantage of corporate work trips and see other parts of the country/world on someone else’s dime. I’ve eaten dinner at an old church in Delaware, bought socks at a mall in Croatia, rode a bike through traffic in Germany, and ate “the best Chinese food in Ireland” in Limerick.

16. Make yourself uncomfortable frequently. Or, as Mother Beddingfield said, “Release your inhibitions, FEEL THE RAIN ON YOUR SKIN”

17. Hide vegetables in things so you can eat healthier. A good, blended tomato sauce hides so many gross veggies!!!

18. Get diagnosed and go to therapy.

19. Learn to manage your reactions, and take accountability for how you make others feel when you can’t.

20. Look people in the eye and listen to them. Not to respond, but to understand them more.

1. Sprain your ankle once ‘cause you’ll never stop spraining it.

2. Get a tattoo that says “No regrets” in French.

3. Doubt your capabilities. One time, my dad became a florist out of NOWHERE. If a white man can do it…

4. Settle for a job you only have lukewarm feelings for.

5. Beg someone to love you or stay with you.

6. Allow your past to become your identity.

7. Drive drunk.

8. Avoid difficult conversations.

9. Let one failure speak for all future risks.

10. Ignore symptoms, or let doctors make you feel like your symptoms aren’t real just because they should know more than you.

11. Blame yourself for what you didn’t know or understand yet.

12. Listen to your inner critic. They are biased against you.

13. Try to be the cool girl, especially for a guy… or your yoga instructor!!

14. Get whooping cough in high school. I know that’s hard to control, and I still have no clue how it happened to me, but don’t do it. It’s not cool to cough so hard until you puke IN HIGH SCHOOL. It’s not cool for your friends to yell, “THERE SHE GOES!” or “WATCH OUT!” whenever I started to cough!!!!!

15. Put your phone in your bra on an upside down roller coaster.

16. Feel bad for being vulnerable and saying how you feel, even if it doesn’t land or gets misconstrued or isn’t reciprocated or is taken on a cross-country road trip to prove you’re lying????

17. Trust a big butt and a smile.

18. Believe the labels you give yourself, like “undisciplined” or “too much” or “will never make it to the Olympics”.

19. Be surprised when society, or “the system”, doesn’t work in your favor. Business interest is always favored in a capitalist society.

20. Confuse assumptions and perceptions with the truth.

BUT STILL, TRUST YOUR GUT!!! ALWAYS.

1. I got my aura photo taken at HausWitch in Salem last week. Apparently, I am intuitive and psychic and I have a Victorian ghost at my side at all times.

2. The Nitro Bar in Rhode Island deserves its TikTok fame. I had an anniversary cake latte with FROSTING ON IT.

3. 1928 Beacon Hill was one of the best restaurants I’ve been to in a while. The food and drinks were great, but the atmosphere was even better. AND THE COMPANY!

4. I collect doll ornaments, so I had to buy this, this, this, this, and this at the Newport Mansions!!!

5. Found this Damson Madder dress for $100 less on Farfetch. Am I getting scammed? Only time will tell. I’ll save it for my next list of Don’ts.

Have a good life,
Patty xo

My mother decided she wanted to do Mother’s Day on Saturday this year — at the World Class Longhorn Steakhouse — so I had Mother’s Day to myself this year.

I woke up to nothing!!!! Not the faintest whiff of coffee brewing or the sizzling of bacon in a hot pan. There was only a dog at the end of the bed stirring anxiously because the cat was lying on my back.

“It’s not my fault!” I exclaimed, as she kicked me and rolled over for attention.

“I can’t get up! I am very scared right now!”

I have been struggling with deep fatigue and a bit of the morbs lately (could be PMDD, could be MS — we’ll never know), so I woke up against my will to tend to my motherly duties (walking, feeding, watering the animals) before retreating to my big comfy chair to watch 20/20 and nap for two more hours.

BUT!

I set an alarm for 9:30am so I wouldn’t waste yet another Sunday drifting in and out of consciousness. I have never been one to deny myself exactly what I want in that exact moment, but I probably should…. right?

It certainly has not felt good spending entire weekends inside, especially as the weather has gotten nicer. Doing nothing satisfies my tired soul and body… but it makes my brain feel bad. AND I’M TIRED OF IT.

I have decided to take a play out of my oft-ignored book, My Own Advice, and motivate myself through 🍪 TIME CHUNKS 🍪

WHAT

Time chunking (more commonly referred to as time blocking, but chunking is arguably a better/funnier word) is a productivity method for when you don’t have the motivation. I have ADHD so I almost never have motivation! Time chunking helps work with your neurotypical brain to get stuff done and not feel like garbage.

Feels like this:

🍪 CHUNK 1 — Errands (10-12pm)

My alarm goes off at 9:30, and I am oddly ready to rise. (Could be the two-hour nap, could be the ADHD stimulant — something else we’ll never know.)

I quickly get ready to HIT THE STREETS! And by streets, I mean HomeGoods. The best one is perfectly located near all the places I need to go, but has the worst parking lot in existence. You’ve gotta get there early to avoid mental breakdowns.

I shop for all the important things I needed: a storage cabinet shaped like a doll house, a book that looks like Little Women but is actually an empty box, sheets, accent pillows, a bunch of random hooks??, and a framed picture of a cat.

🍬 CHUNK REWARD: I stop at Starbucks on my way home for one of those big pink refresher drinks that I have to order in advance and avoid eye contact when I pick up because I’m embarrassed.

🍪 CHUNK 2 — Into the Woods (12-2pm)

Typically, here is where I would collapse back on the couch. BUT, I have another chunk to tend to.

I love to stack a habit (combine something you need to do with something you like to do). As soon as I get home, I leash up the dog and head back out the door.

Billie and I drive ~5 minutes to the nearest forest to romanticize our lives. The birds are birding, people are kayaking, and I watch two young boys take a break from fishing to eat peanut butter and Fluff sandwiches. My heart grows two sizes bigger.

Then, we run into my sister… in the woods! When Billie realizes it’s her, she runs full speed ahead to “show her love” (excitedly jump on her and knock her down).

Unfortunately, she will not let her herd walk in different directions, so Betsy has to walk us back to the car, and then go for her walk. Look, it just makes it easier when we give in to her weird demands, okay????

🍬 CHUNK REWARD: I have one of those good walks where my mood turns around (ugh, it always does) and I think of a million fun ideas.

🍪 CHUNK 3 — Chores (2-3pm)

I want to sit and relax so, so bad but I HAVE SO MANY RANDOM HOOKS TO HANG.

I set an alarm for 60 minutes and I decide to do whatever I can get done in that amount of time.

I cut up a rotisserie chicken for the week, take out the trash, vacuum all the common areas, clean the kitchen, put together a shoe rack, and hang one single hook.

When the alarm goes off, I could keep going… but I don’t. IT’S MOTHER’S DAY. LET ME LIVE MY LIFE.

🍬 CHUNK REWARD: I finished Lena Dunham’s audiobook! I have many thoughts. Mostly positive.

🍪 CHUNK 4 — F’ Around Time (3-5pm)

Finally, I’m back where I belong: big comfy chair.

After hours of hard labor, I don’t feel any guilt or shame about fucking around and doing nothing. It’s funny how that works.

I put on old episodes of The Critic on YouTube while I catch up on newsletters, blogs, and get lost in a series of open tabs. My happy place.

My arthritic hands start to ache from all the scrolling and typing, so that means it’s time to transition into my next chunk.

🍬 CHUNK REWARD: The chunk IS the reward! Also, remember The Critic? Jon Lovitz is so funny.

The rest of the day’s chunks were pretty standard:

• Dog & Dinner (5-6) I throw a stick outside on my front lawn while my dog catches it then prances around with it. Then we had our dinners.

• Socialize & Unwind (6-8) My sister and I catch up on Hacks and finish the one-season show, Our Lady Jane. My sister is a Tudor-expert so her chunk reward was telling me all the historically inaccurate details about a show where humans transform into animals.

• Night Chores (8-8:15) I brush my teeth (the worst) and do my skincare. (Chunk Reward: TikTok scrolling!)

• Wind Down (8:15-?) I climb into bed to read, but I can’t land on a book. Instead, I watch a documentary — I am obsessed with Trust Me: The False Prophet right now. Like, give me all the unedited content!!!!

👉 THE POINT IS

Discipline is a TRAP.

It works for some, but not for all.

My father wakes up every single morning at the same time and does the same exact routine. It doesn’t matter if he’s going anywhere or not — that man is showered, groomed, and dressed for the day by 6am.

Despite being a former Marine, he’s the least disciplined person I know. (He used to come home drunk, with Wendy’s, in the middle of the night and WAKE HIS YOUNG CHILDREN UP to eat it.) It is the sustained habit that propels him into his routine. Not discipline.

Don’t get me wrong, there WILL be days when the stress-induced chronic illness and pain takes over and I must allow myself to chill. More often than not, it’s overwhelm that keeps me seated. Breaking time into manageable chunks with little dopamine treats helps me wrap my brain around tasks.

Basically, we’re all the same damn kids who once required snack breaks, gold stars, and whole-ass pizza parties for finishing a book.

P.s. For anyone in the Boston area… I’m throwing a 40th birthday party and it’s a show you must pay to attend! Yay!!!

It’s next Friday May 22nd at 9:15pm (I know, I’m sorry) at The Rockwell in Davis Square, Somerville. It’s starring all of my incredibly talented friends from 20 years of performing improv (including former students AND my first teacher!) I would really love a full crowd to see you there! xo

🍪🍬🎟️ TICKETS.

Ok that’s enough,
Patty

Obviously this means that I just don’t sign into Teams. I CAN’T. DON’T NEED IT. WORK IS DONE FOR THE DAY. YOU’RE ASKING TOO MUCH FROM ME.

It has made me think of all the other “barriers to entry” or moments of friction that prevent me from taking action. I know we’re all about "FRICTION-MAXXING” right now (which I’m genuinely a fan of) but this is just…

RIDICULOUS FRICTION:

1. If I have to call to make, or cancel, an appointment.

2. Returning anything that requires printing a label at home and using PACKING TAPE. That $180 pair of jeans is family now.

3. If an ad pops up immediately when visiting a website, EVEN IF IT’S OFFERING ME A DISCOUNT, I’m outtie 5000.

4. When a podcast episode has 4-5 minutes of ads at the beginning, goodbye. Really wanted to hear your take on the recent Summer House drama, but I’ll have to settle for easy to access, shitty takes on TikTok.

5. When using a new bottle of shampoo in the shower, and it has one of those safety covers on it but it has no little tabs and your hands are wet and you can’t use your teeth because then you’ll get shampoo in your mouth and ALSO because your dental hygiene best friend told you to stop using your teeth to open things so you just scrape the remnants of the last bottle and barely wash your hair.

6. Doing my laundry requires coins and is located in the basement. I’ve bought new underwear twice.

7. When shipping isn’t free, or costs as much as the item I’m buying, I’m either not buying that item… or I’m buying 15 other items to get free shipping. Girl math.

8. Service calls. When I lived in LA, my shower knob broke off and I used A WRENCH to turn the shower on and off for years. Years.

9. One of my CLOSEST FRIENDS told me he was in town last night at the ungodly hour of 7:30PM and you couldn’t pay me to put makeup on, get dressed, and Uber into the city just to spend quality time with someone I love??!?

   

10. Also, 17 messages is too overwhelming so I will open the chat thread to get rid of the notification, but I simply cannot read them all.

11. Difficult fruits and veggies that aren’t pre-cut (e.g. mango, watermelon, squash.) In fact, I only peel the skins off potatoes when it’s a special occasion.

12. IF WE’RE BEING HONEST… I sometimes don’t eat dinner because the prep is too daunting.

13. If going on dates requires meeting new people??????????

14. When a pair of boots has shoelaces as its primary way of fastening… that’s cute. Shoelaces should be decorative at this point. Throw me a back or side-zipper!

15. Movies over two hours long. Stop it. Editing exists for a reason.

SOME OK FRICTION:

1. Reading a book with my eyeballs instead of listening to an audiobook at 1.7x the speed… every now and then.

2. Sitting on a bench overlooking the water without headphones.

3. Taking a workout class in studio rather than in my bedroom with two animals fighting for my attention on the mat.

4. Getting outside for 10-15 minutes first thing every morning (to take the dog out, otherwise I wouldn’t be doing this BECAUSE IT’S CRAZY, but I do like the fresh air.)

5. Driving 15 miles for good ice cream made on a farm instead of going to a local ice cream purveyor.

867-5309,
Patty

Dear Substack,

Why does every (top-selling) Substack look, sound, and feel exactly the same? The links, topics, guests, suggestions, graphics, etc. are all. the. same. I see that it’s working, and I’m happy that people are finding success on the platform. It makes me like there is success to be had on the platform.

But the downside, and my general life crisis, is that the only way to be successful is the follow the ONE format.

I understand that there are certain rules to follow, and that — to steal a great lyric from the musical, Gypsy — you’ve gotta get a gimmick. But is there a way to stand out and build a following without eventually falling into the trap of doing the exact same thing everyone else is doing?

I’m sorry to be crass, but right now — Substack feels like everyone is sucking each other’s dicks to climb to the top.

Dear Big Entertainment,

Why does everyone require a following before even getting a meeting? We all know that a following doesn’t mean great content, or a FRESH AUTHENTIC VOICE. It means dollars in your pockets!!! Or, the bank, I don’t think anyone actually carries physical money anymore.

I once dated a guy who would show me videos of some strange guy on YouTube eating and drinking disgusting shit and he had like a million followers. Is that guy deserving of a book deal? And does that book feel good to promote?

Personally, I’d be afraid of the people showing up to those book signings or fan events. I know, I dated a fan! He was a weirdo!

Dear Workplace Authenticity Police,

A friend of mine recently received feedback from a colleague that she should be more respectful to authority. I’m paraphrasing, but essentially that was the message.

Both of us were flabbergasted by the feedback. She is a young, white women, and this was a white male in a senior role. She is authentic to who she is, and deeply defends her values. I’d say the same about myself. I am not your typical “corporate girlie”. However, I didn’t receive the same feedback as she did. Despite pushing back on things I felt strongly about, my feedback was more about the “unique perspective” I brought to the project.

I know that women walk a fine line in the workplace. We have to be tough, but kind. Assertive, but soft. Authentic, but not so much that it’s a distraction. So, yes, I know that there is a right and wrong way to be true-to-yourself in the workplace, but what’s the key differentiator? Is it attractiveness? Likability?

It reminds me of a story from Tina Fey’s Bossypants where Jimmy Fallon told Amy Poehler to stop doing something gross because it wasn’t cute. She responded, “I don’t fucking care if you like it.”

It’s one of the stickiest stories I’ve ever read, and immediately made me love Amy Poehler.

… but would a woman have been able to speak to a (tenured, male) cast member like that if it weren’t Amy Poehler?

Even though SNL is barely a real workplace, I don’t know if it would fly if someone like Jenny Slate (who got fired after one season) said it because she was less notable at the time, and arguably less warm and likable than Amy.

Dear Ken Burns,

Where are all the documentaries on women?

Believe me when I say that I’m a huge fan. Since December, I have watched:

• The American Revolution

• Prohibition

• The U.S. and the Holocaust

• Henry David Thoreau

• Leonardo DaVinci

• Hemingway

• Benjamin Franklin

• The Roosevelts

• Jazz

• The Civil War

There are some interesting stories of women portrayed in those films (e.g. Abigail Adams, Lois Long, and Eleanor Roosevelt) but where are the full documentaries on WOMEN?

We’ve got Hemingway, what about Gertrude Stein?

Mark Twain is a great humor writer, but so was Jane Austen!

And don’t get me started on Thoreau (who DID NOT ACTUALLY LIVE OFF-GRID IN A CABIN FOR TWO YEARS), what about Louisa May Alcott? She ACTUALLY lived off-grid with her weird father’s cult, she moved to NYC, she was a nurse during the Civil War, she raised her sister’s child, and she published books as a woman!

I guess you’re not the only person responsible for documentaries… so I’m sorry to put all of this on you. But you’re probably the most respected, and you make a great film. Let me know if you need my help.

I know that I’m a woman, and I may be difficult, but it’s okay because I’m kinda likable sometimes!

Every time I see a Piantedosi roll, I think of The Boxcar Children.

When I was a kid, my mother would take me to the Piantedosi factory (it’s a Boston thing) and the workers would give me a fresh roll while we waited in line. I’d slowly eat it, savoring every morsel, like a hungry orphan living in a boxcar.

Similarly, I think of Claudia from The Babysitter’s Club whenever I see a Hershey kiss. (She hid them inside of her book!!!!) I think of Amelia Bedelia any time I see a lemon meringue pie. And I think of The Secret Garden when I see ANY garden behind a fence. Which is most gardens!

Isn’t it funny how some books leave their marks on us?

They (important writers) say that good writers are also good readers. Each writer has a “curriculum” of their own that helped form their voice, sharpen their perspective, and hone their craft.

I recently made a list of books that might be on my curriculum, and wow — it will likely be studied by mental health professionals for years to come.

I’m no psychologist, but I’m assuming that books likely stamp on our subconscious for the same reasons that certain life experiences do. Like,

• Emotional intensity - the brain connects emotionally intense periods (e.g. fear, anticipation, wonder, excitement, etc.) with importance.

• Identity relevance - it supplies the vocabulary for unidentified feelings and it’s easier to connect its meaning to personal experience and identity.

• Timing - when you read the book and what you were going through at the time.

• Repetition - actively seeking out similar themes/characters, less opposing points of view.

At first, I didn’t see an overt connection or red thread through all the titles. But of course there are themes peeking through. They show that I was a deeply feeling kid, and SURPRISE! I’ve grown into a deeply feeling adult.

So deeply feeling that it might actually help if they put this list up at the library with a note that says, “If your child is reading these books, they will likely be diagnosed with anxiety and depression soon.”

Ultimately, my “curriculum” shows that I am fascinated by deeply feeling people and how they survive — physically, spiritually and emotionally. Unfortunately, not everyone makes it. But it doesn’t mean they didn’t fight the good fight while going through it.

On Love

• Little Women - Louisa May Alcott

• Normal People - Sally Rooney

• Pride and Prejudice - Jane Austen

These books helped me understand, and long for, deep connection. Most of these relationships aren’t perfect by any means, but their vulnerability and honesty resonated deeply. Chemistry isn’t everything in a relationship, but it’s so hard to find in real life. Which makes real chemistry and longing hard to perfect on the page.

When you do experience it, on the good days, it actually feels like magic. Magic that changes everything, magic that potentially RUINS YOU FOR LIFE.

Lizzy and Darcy, Marianne and Connell… even Jo and Laurie! They might be toxic in the long-run, but man, there is nothing quite like reading authors who fully understand and know how to capture that tension.

Trauma & Pain

• The Bell Jar - Sylvia Plath

• Wishful Drinking - Carrie Fisher

I held off reading Sylvia Plath for the longest time, and with good reason. When I ultimately read The Bell Jar, it felt like I was reading my inner dialogue. She describes depression with such accuracy. On paper, her character (very much based on herself) has it all — a magazine internship, friends at a boarding house in NYC, so many writing opportunities — and yet, she doesn’t feel excited about any of it.

Carrie Fisher has a much different approach to writing about her trauma, but behind the jokes you can feel her pain. Similarly, the “highlight” of her career, Star Wars, is one of the loneliest and hardest times of her life. I deeply relate to being on top of the world and wishing you could celebrate, but finding it difficult to muster any joy.

Resilience

• Number the Stars - Lois Lowry

• The Diary of Anne Frank - Anne Frank

• A Gentleman in Moscow - Amor Towles

• All The Light We Cannot See - Anthony Doerr

Yes, three of these books take place during World War II / The Holocaust. One takes place in World War I, though! I do have a thing for that time period, and these books are perfect examples of what stories I’m so attracted to.

Each book shows us different perspectives of the war(s). In Number the Stars, we experience the Nazis invasion of Denmark through the eyes of a young girl with a Jewish best friend. Anne Frank shows us her “normal” life in hiding in the Netherlands. All the Light We Cannot See brings us to France, where a blind girl relies on a single book and the radio. A Gentleman in Moscow takes place during the Bolshevik revolution where an aristocrat is spared his life but is forcibly imprisoned in a hotel.

In one way, these books highlight my affinity for deep diving a topic from EVERY SINGLE ANGLE and should have alerted someone that I have ADHD. But, in another way, they showed me all the ways one can make the best out of dire situations. Some choose acts of heroism, some don’t have that option.

They have stuck with me for so long because they showed me that resilience doesn’t always look like a phoenix rising from the ashes, or seeking vengeance on the bad guys. Sometimes, it’s keeping a diary to mark the days, striking up conversations with strangers, tuning into a consistent radio program, or reading the same book over and over.

When the world is chaotic and it feels like there is nothing we can do about it, sometimes all we can do is ground ourselves in small rituals and find joy and hope wherever we can.

Intelligent, Interesting Women

• Bossypants - Tina Fey

• Eat Pray Love - Elizabeth Gilbert

• I Feel Bad About My Neck - Nora Ephron

In a world where you can be anything, be interesting!!! I grew up in a society that praised a woman’s looks over everything else (just me?).

These particular authors not only made me feel seen — they showed me that there is so much more to women than beauty. They had CLEAR perspectives, they were HONEST about their feelings, they CHALLENGED the status quo, they took risks and made sacrifices and didn’t just accept their circumstances.

And, they turned it all into art. Different types of art, but ART NONETHELESS.

What would be on your curriculum?

At one point, I’d have added Harry Potter (specifically Prisoner of Azkaban) but now every time I see a rat I just think of how Scabbers was J.K. Rowling the whole time.

5 things

1. The new season of Jury Duty: The Company Retreat is so good. I cried my eyes out watching the last episode. It’s kind of awkward, because it’s sort of a prank show… but they’re all SO human and make real connections. I wish they would turn this cast into a real sitcom.

2. Two audiobooks I just finished: Lady Tremaine (liked, but didn’t love… I feel like it went a bit off the rails?) and The Road To Tender Hearts (LOVED!!)

3. A book I recently read (outside of my usual genre) that I loved: Once There Were Wolves by Charlotte McConaghy. It had everything: wolves, twins, dangerous and risky situations, family trauma, and Scotland!

4. What I’m eating: As an Uncrustable connoisseur, the Trader Joe’s version IS SO GOOD.

5. New decor: This Irish Need Not Apply poster is now the first thing you see when you walk in my door. It’s funny ‘cause it was real and I’m Irish! Ha ha ha ha haha hahahaha.

It has been hot and humid in Boston this week, and I’m not ready. I’m a book worm!!! I thrive in blanket weather!! Also, I need an Allegra STAT!!!

Live your best life!
Patty

Unless you’re living under a rock — or living a normal, healthy life — you’ve probably heard about the most recent Bravo scandal on Summer House.

I love Bravo reality TV, but Summer House is a favorite because of the women. The men are notoriously terrible, but the women are whip smart, funny, and they never put up with men’s bullshit.

Well, except for Amanda. She put up with lots of bullshit. So, in a way, it’s not surprising that she’s being scrutinized for falling into a relationship with her best friend (and cast-mate’s) ex (also a cast-mate) seemingly within seconds of separating from her ex-husband (and cast-mate!) of 10 years.

I, too, am disappointed in Amanda — a woman I’ve never met but feel personally victimized by. I am forever Team Ciara. But unfortunately, I was also fooled by West. I was gutted when he humiliated Ciara with his press tour. And yet, I was thrilled when the two of them started to rekindle their feelings on the season that’s currently airing.

FOOLED AGAIN BY THE CHARMING MAN WITH GOOD MANNERS AND A GREAT MRS. DOUBTFIRE COSTUME!!!

Kyle, Amanda’s ex-husband, is asking the fans to ease off Amanda and wondering why people aren’t being hard on West. I don’t disagree, I can’t imagine being in her position so publicly right now, but I have unfortunately been there.

I allowed myself to fall in love with a man that broke the heart of my close friend and roommate. She told me exactly who he was, and I didn’t believe her. He also repeatedly told me who he was, and I chose not to believe him.

Naturally, he never had to deal with any consequences of his actions. The fallout only happened between me and my roommate, two emotionally vulnerable women who were charmed and manipulated by a seemingly great man.

I was lying in another man’s bed when I realized he had a thing for me.

It was 6am and he texted me telling me to wear a coat that day because it was chilly outside. It was early October, the weather was starting to turn, and he “just thought I should know”.

I thought it was so sweet. The guy I was dating would never send me a message like that. His text caught me off guard, and it made me want to keep talking to him. I was 24 and a late-bloomer, the bar for “good men” was very low back then.

From then on, our stream of communication was constant. Early morning texts, email chains throughout the day, sending tame selfies of each other’s faces at night. He’d shower me with compliments, even calling me his dream girl.

He told me about the first time he ever noticed me. He had arrived early for an improv class, and I was on stage auditioning for a cast. He peaked through the blinds and thought I was cute.

I remembered the first time I saw him too. I was attending a show with a date and I saw him across the room holding an entire pitcher of beer. I liked his glasses, his style, and his overall vibe. Then, my roommate sat down next to him and I suddenly knew exactly who he was.

The student from her improv class she spent every night talking to on the phone. The guy I accidentally caught her hooking up with in our hallway. The moody guy who would eat a raw potato for dinner because he said he didn’t deserve to heat it up1???? (🚩🚩🚩🚩🚩🚩)

The guy who eventually broke her heart.

“That was so long ago”, I told myself as our flirting started to evolve.

“She lives on a cruise ship now!2 She has a boyfriend! She wouldn’t care! We’re theater kids, everyone hooks up with each other!”

The sheer amount of justifications I made showed how guilty I felt. But for some reason, I couldn’t pull away.

I broke things off with the guy I was dating because he was genuinely the worst, but also because I clearly had feelings for someone else.

When I let him know that, he told me he was in a relationship.

I was bummed. I assumed I had misconstrued his kindness for flirting, or got something wrong. I assumed it was my fault, never thinking about the fact that he actively pursued me while he was in a relationship.

It was clear that he had no plans to exit that relationship, nor did he have plans to cease communication with me.

About a month later, they broke up. He picked me up the next day to bring me to his apartment. We exchanged our first kiss at a stoplight, he put his hand on my thigh as he drove a stick shift, we were mostly silent and giggly.

When we entered his place, it was covered in lit candles and Otis Redding was playing. He knew he was my favorite. It was the most romantic evening of my life.

After he dropped me back at home the next day, I was head over heels. I ran right to my best friend and gushed about my night. I thought we were in love and would begin a romantic relationship.

Instead, we continued hanging out but I was asked to keep it quiet. He was a very private person, he said, and we ran in the same circles. We performed together. He didn’t want to complicate things. Etc. (🚩🚩🚩)

I was crushed, but figured he just needed time. After all, his words were telling me how important I was to him, how adored I was…. why not take them at face value?

Then, he got back together with his girlfriend a few weeks later. Looking back, I’m shocked that he told me. But, I don’t think he made it a week before resuming our situation.

I’ll spare you the whole story, for now, but I imagine you already know where it goes.

We continued hooking up while he had a girlfriend, I naturally thought it was because he LOVED ME and COULDN’T LET ME GO. They eventually broke up, he still didn’t want to date me. I still didn’t get it. We continued hooking up, and I genuinely thought we’d “get together in the end”. (Spoiler alert: We didn’t.)

My roommate returned from her cruise and our mutual friend told her that I was hanging out with him. Needless to say, she was very mad. We lived in a VERY SMALL apartment — we had curtains for doors and our heat source was THE OVEN — you could cut the tension with a knife.

The night after she found out, a big group of our friends went to our local bar. I was walking ahead of her with a friend and she started screaming mean things about me in the street while our friends tried to stifle their laughter. To be fair, she can say the most heinous things and they are always hilarious. So although it felt cruel, I get why they were laughing.

I was mortified, but I didn’t know what to do. I knew I had hurt her, and I genuinely felt awful, but I was scared to approach her about it. I also didn’t want to go home and hide.

So, I let her humiliate me. I felt that I deserved it. I broke the girl code. I was a bad friend and a horrible person. I would take my public beating and deal with the fallout later.

When we finally talked the next day, she accepted my apology and we decided it wasn’t worth fighting over. Although it was a shitty experience, I knew that I made a bad choice and had to deal with the consequences.

I’m grateful that I had built enough trust with her, and our friends, that they were all able to show me grace and let it go. What they didn’t realize, or maybe they did, is that I was already suffering plenty.

This man was obsessed with me one day, and ignoring me the next. He’d bring his girlfriend to our shows and whisper comments in my ear about the heels I was wearing, referring to them as “reunion shoes”. He’d tell me that I was “it” for him, that our chemistry and connection was unlike anything he’d ever experienced with anyone else. Then, he’d be unresponsive for days and would get mad at my annoyance.

I almost lost my friends and reputation, and I had nothing to show for it.

It’s not an excuse, but I wish I had more self-esteem back then. I was in my 20s, performing comedy for a living, and living in the same neighborhood as all of my friends. I was LIVING THE DREAM!

Instead, I attributed my value to my fuckability. When he was giving me attention, I was the coolest, smartest, prettiest girl in the world. When he wasn’t, I was born a street rat, I will die a street rat, and only my fleas will mourn me.

It’s something I’m still working on; I struggle in general with caring too much about other people’s perceptions of me. But my self-esteem grows a bit stronger every time I choose myself and my values over shitty, questionable behavior for a little bit of attention.

Amanda will be fine. There will be fallout, her reputation will take a hit, and she will struggle with her mental health. But, hopefully she’ll go to therapy and force herself to face some hard truths. An important one being that she is a human being, capable of doing human stuff like making mistakes and bad decisions.

And she, too, is capable of getting got by a CHARMING MAN WITH GOOD MANNERS AND A GREAT MRS. DOUBTFIRE COSTUME.

Never forget… the Last Fuckable Day sketch.

I just made a fool of myself in front of Ashley C. Ford.

It was week three of a “Writing Rage” class I was taking through Off Assignment and I was living my best life. I was laughing, crying, clapping—basically, I was a ‘90s mother in the audience of The Oprah Winfrey Show.

I could see my fellow students were having the same reaction, so I wrote the following in the chat:

Then… it dawned on me that what I said could have been misconstrued as racist. I didn’t mean it because she is black, or because her hair is braided, or because she has a similar voice! It was purely the vibes!!!

All of her answers were giving: If you want to be somebody, if you want to go somewhere, you better wake up and pay attention.

For example:

“I expected as I got older to understand the terrible behavior of some of the adults around me as a child. What has happened is, I have gained some empathy and some understanding. But I still am like… but why did you KEEP doing that?”

And:

“I have so much more to offer the future than my silence about my past.”

And that was just her first 10 minutes!

If you’re not familiar with Ashley’s work, she wrote a great memoir called Somebody’s Daughter. I’m a big fan of her writing and she was the perfect guest for a class about writing rage because she articulates her anger so well.

Luckily, when I got to ask Ashley a question later, I noted the comment and she took it exactly how I meant it. Phew.

One of my goals for this year was to take myself seriously. I write, therefore I am a writer… right? Well, no. I struggle to call myself that. I don’t even refer to myself as a comedian and I’ve been performing for 20 years. It’s a little bit of imposter syndrome, mixed with the fear of being cringe.

So, I figured I’d dip my toes into the waters of “serious writing” by taking a class about RAGE! After all, what’s more serious than RAGE?!?!

I didn’t realize how badly I needed it.

Reflections on Rage & Writing:

Everybody is mad.

There were about 45 people in this course, and everyone was there because they were mad about something. Before we even joined the first Zoom, we were asked to write bios in a document and share our hopes for the course.

I read through each bio, feeling myself shrink with every word. I have been so hard on myself for how angry I am—still—over things that have happened in the past or that are not within my control.

Yet, here were people from all over the world expressing their anger over ICE, child abuse, domestic violence, infertility, disability, queerness, grief, womanhood, motherhood, personhood, etc.

1. It made me feel small. My rage is a tiny speck in the grand scheme of all the rage in the world.

2. It made me feel seen. Everyone can relate to rage, regardless of the source.

Rage is often disguised as other emotions.

I am my father’s daughter, therefore I have a temper. I’ve tried hard in adulthood to manage my emotional reactions… mostly because I have a very anxious dog and high blood pressure.

However, rage is inherently a response to fear. Therefore, rage is hiding in all the trauma responses — fight, flight, freeze, fawn, etc. Rage can be emotional outbursts, or the silent treatment, or negotiation, or crying, or more.

Also, women are conditioned to not show rage. It’s unbecoming! So, we likely hide our rage in more “feminine” responses.

As a writer, it gave me more to tap into. One of the first assignments we had was to make a “rage timeline” where we noted specific instances throughout our lives where we felt rage. At first, it was hard… but now I can’t stop adding moments.

It’s great faux-therapy.

Rage and humor go hand-in-hand.

“Humor can disarm in a way that just screaming in somebody’s face can’t.” - Dan Sinker

Our first guest was Dan Sinker, a journalist. Some of the topics he writes about are pretty serious, but he has a great way of infusing humor into his work.

As you might know, I also tend to use a lot of humor. I figured that in order to be taken seriously, by myself or anyone else, I had to write honestly about REAL SHIT. I had to say it with my whole chest and not hide behind jokes.

But, that wouldn’t be “honest” for me. I know that I can use humor to deflect, but I also use it to disarm. Humor welcomes people in, and it helps land a message with impact. I’m not necessarily trying to hide pain, I just don’t want the person on the other side of the story to experience that pain.

In my experience, humor has been a powerful tool for writing, and basic human connection.

My Biggest Takeaway

The course instructor/guide was the great Megan Stielstra. I hadn’t read her work prior to this class, but now I’m a fan.

She said:

Writing is “What feels urgent for me?”
Re-writing: “How do I make this urgent for someone else?

Similarly, Ashley C. Ford also shared in her class:

“What do I want this to be about, and what do I want it to do?” - Ashley C. Ford

These statements particularly resonated with my goal of taking my writing seriously. Honestly, sometimes I do write just for ME — and that’s fine. Sometimes it’s fun to just do the thing and get into the habit.

Editing is a big part of the writing process and taking the time to review it through the lens of the reader is smart practice. What do I want my writing to do?????

Today, I want it to make you mad!!!!

Before you move on to the next email in your inbox, I’d encourage you to set a timer for 5 minutes. Write something you’ve been too nice to admit or say out loud—even to yourself. Like, “I don’t care about your kids, Debbie!!!” or “I LEARNED IT FROM YOU, DAD!”

Don’t edit it, or justify it, just put it on the page. You don’t have to share it, you just have to be honest.

Doesn’t it feel GOOD?!?!

And, one last quote:

“Keeping it real is a superpower. But keeping it real with yourself—it might not save you from pain, but it’ll keep you from suffering for the rest of your life.” - Ashley C. Ford

Previously, on Barrett All…

My favorite leggings cost $109. I currently own six pairs (bought over time, mostly on sale) and none of them fit me anymore. That’s OVER $600 down the drain… yikes.

Context: Since July, I’ve been taking a GLP-1 and I’ve lost about 50 pounds. I sometimes feel weird talking about this “publicly” but apparently there’s a ~culture of silence~ around weight loss and that’s ridiculous. Especially when I know more people taking one than I know who aren’t.

I know that losing weight is a “good thing”—I should be happy! I am happy, and I’m proud, and I feel good, etc. etc.

But, I am a woman desperately clinging to leggings as outerwear, despite everyone, everywhere telling me they’re out-of-trend. I do not feel good or proud in saggy leggings covered in various animal furs. (I assume it’s just my dog and cat’s, but really— who knows?!?!)

Unfortunately, I am also a woman who has started to care about quality clothing. My aforementioned favorite leggings are buttery soft with good compression and they never lose their shape. I cannot say the same about the feeling, longevity, or durability of ANY pair of leggings I’ve ever bought at Old Navy or T.J. Maxx.

The easy answer here is to slowly re-buy my favorite leggings when they go on sale and swap out the saggy old ones. (Title of my memoir.)

But, believe it or not, this story is not just about leggings.

While, yes, I do wear leggings about 90% of the time— I also sometimes have to go to work, meet people for dinner, perform in shows, attend events, etc. Now that warmer days are on the horizon, I can’t hide under layers and coats anymore.

Which means I have to (mostly) re-build a whole new wardrobe.

And I feel paralyzed.

Fear #1 - What if I need these clothes again?

As a millennial who came of age during late ‘90s/early ‘00s diet culture, I’ve been on some sort of diet for the last 30 years. I have lost and gained the same weight so many times that it’s hard for me to take this recent weight loss (/myself) seriously.

I still have a pair of jeans in my closet that fit comfortably in 2018, were too big in 2021, and wouldn’t button in 2023. Obviously, The Sisterhood of the Traveling Pants did not buy their denim from Madewell.

But, I can’t give them up!!! I remember feeling so confident when I wore them — I’m not a big jeans girl, so it was a revelation to me that you could feel good in jeans. They soon became my barometer of “acceptable weight” for me. My literal skinny jeans.

Funnily enough, they fit me again… but they’re out of style. OF COURSE.

Fear #2 - How do I dress????

I’m a dress girl, always have been, which made it easier to maintain a wardrobe amongst years of fluctuating weight. But, a part of me relied on dresses to hide the parts of my body that I didn’t like. They showed off my weirdly muscular legs, hid my middle, and emphasized the hourglass figure my dance teacher loved to tell me was my greatest asset.

I feel like a stranger in a new body, still insecure about the same things.

I don’t want to dress to hide anymore, but I don’t know what that looks like. So many things were “off-limits” for me in the past (self-imposed) and I don’t know what I’ll allow myself to wear now. Like, is this the summer I allow myself to wear DENIM SHORTS outside of a pool situation? I don’t know if I’m there yet!!!

There’s still a disconnect between what I look like now, and the insecure 13-year-old girl inside of me who will never see herself any other way.

Fear #3 - Who the hell am I, loca?!?!

I like fashion and I enjoy expressing myself through personal style.

I grew up on fashion magazines (which were part of the problem, but that’s another story) and I spent many Friday nights at the mall with my friends.

I vividly remember the thrill of buying baby blue velour bell bottoms at Tello’s, Christina Aguilera-inspired orange cargo pants from Express, and securing my very first vomit green Coach purse. And when Clueless came out, don’t even get me started. Cher is my forever style icon.

But, try as I might, I’m not Cher. I’m not 17, I’m not rich, and I lived below Sunset.

While I do not believe in age dictating what you can/cannot wear, I do not exactly know who I am and what I want my wardrobe to represent.

All the trends right now are not resonating with me. Especially since they were trends when I was a teenager and never felt confident enough to wear any of it. The baby tees, the low-rise jeans, the preppy cardigans, the crop tops, and OMG, THE BALLET FLATS.

MY ANKLES COULDN’T HANDLE A BALLET FLAT THEN, AND THEY CAN’T HANDLE A BALLET FLAT NOW.

A solution: The 3-Word Method

I’ve heard of Alison Bornstein’s 3-Word Method which she says, “serve(s) to articulate something that is subjective, artistic, and often hard to put a finger on.”

That sounds like a bunch of word salad, but I get the idea. It’s about honing in on your style and being intentional about what it communicates to the people around you. Or something.

To many, this does not matter. People around me in Massachusetts proudly rock the Boston Uniform and go on about their lives. Their words might be “easy” or “breezy”, but maybe I want mine to be “beautiful CoverGirl”!!!!

For whatever reason, style matters to me. I want to feel like my best, most authentic self, and the way I dress plays a big part in that.

I gave it some though and decided my three words would be:

• Playful: amusing, light-hearted

• Unfussy: casual, not itchy or over-stimulating!!!!

• Vintage-inspired: Victorian ghost charm

I’m talking:

• Doën with sneakers so I don’t look too trad-wife (and because my aforementioned ankles can’t handle heels or non-supportive flats)

• Sweatshirts and mini skirts

• All black because it’s easy

• Big coats and mini dresses

• A shirt that says CHICKEN PARM because I really love chicken parm

• Dresses made for Victorian dolls

• Plaid coats, berets and knee-highs because, duh, classic

Anyways…

I know it’s dumb and I’m anxious for no reason. I’ve only gone down like one size and the world is on fire, who cares.

It’ll be a weird, maybe fun, time while I (slowly) refine my wardrobe and start to feel confident again. Not because I’m thinner, but because I like who I am and how I’m representing myself TO THE WORLD!

But, I will definitely have days where I don’t give a shit about what I look like, or how others perceive me based on my style, which is why I’m circling back to MY LEGGING CONUNDRUM.

I found a pair of my faves in good condition on Poshmark for $50. That’ll do, pig!! (I’m trying to make this the new YAssssQueen)

You can take the girl out of the Boston uniform, but you can’t take the Boston uniform out of the girl.

3 things

💣 I finished American Prometheus, a 27-hour audiobook on J. Robert Oppenheimer that inspired the movie—you guessed it—Oppenheimer. I am proud of this because my hyper-fixation had long passed, but I still powered through! I found the whole affair very interesting. But what do I do with all this information I have!?!?!?!? Maybe I’ll write a movie!

💊 Not to brag, but I had to increase the dosage of my blood pressure meds!!! Just a reminder that weight loss doesn’t solve all of your problems. OK, DOCTORS?

🧙 I’m going to a Boston-themed Met Gala party this weekend and I’m dressing as this hanged Irish witch, Goody Glover. Goody Glover was a real woman, but it was also the name of an old local bar in the North End. I miss her scent.

Slawnchair (how Boston Irish say Sláinte),
Patty

February, in summary:

📕 Best Book: Glad to the Brink of Fear: A Portrait of Ralph Waldo Emerson by James Marcus. As a Massachusetts native and 19th-century ghost, I felt like I should know more about Ralph Waldo Emerson, a pioneer of transcendentalism and Louisa May Alcott’s neighbor. It didn’t disappoint.

📺 Best Show: Aside from The Traitors, obviously, it was How To Get To Heaven from Belfast on Netflix. It’s like Derry Girls, but the women are older and there are cults and a murder mystery.

🎥 Best Movie: Death of Stalin was hilarious. It doesn’t sound it, but it was!

❤️‍🔥 Best Hyperfixation: Einstein’s theory of relativity and how it led to the creation of the atomic bomb, and then Oppenheimer’s fallout post-bomb. AS ONE DOES.

🧳 Where I Went: I spent two weekends in different parts of New York – I got forced home early from NYC due to a blizzard, and visited upstate New York for the first time.

✍️ What I Did: I started taking a writing class on Saturday afternoons called “Writing Rage”, I am enjoying it, although it makes me uncomfortable. I plan to share something I’ve written here – which terrifies me.

✌️ Overall Vibe: I have been “embracing the season” but I am SO ready for the snow to melt and to not have to wear leggings under sweatpants, a sweatshirt under an Irish wool sweater, a puffy coat, mittens, and clunky boots. I long for the days of a light jacket.

Here are some quotes I wrote down in my Notes app last month:

When I was looking into writing, yoga, or creative retreats, The Lady of the Chateau came up. I signed up for their newsletter and it SLAPS. (Do people still say that?)

“Impressionism in particular is about presence. About catching a fleeting moment before it disappears. About resisting the urge to overwork, overthink, or control. In times of upheaval, this way of seeing matters deeply.”

“Art is not an escape from reality – it’s a way of staying connected to it without being consumed. It reminds us that beauty still exists, and that making something with our hands brings us back into our bodies – and into shared experience with others around the world.”

Jonathan Groff on the lasting effects of authenticity:

“If you do something with your whole heart, it can continue to resonate and stand the test of time.”

Wise words from Catherine O’Hara 💔

“I don’t think you can help but draw from yourself… It’s all you have, that hard drive that’s still in there that you can draw from.”

“You have to sit with it and relax and forget about trying to show off. Not that I go into any job thinking that consciously, but I’m sure unconsciously you need to let go of wanting to show off and just be. That’s the trick in life, too. Just be.”

Lydian Emerson on her husband, Ralph Waldo Emerson’s, giant ego:

“Save me from magnificent souls, I like a small, common-sized one.”

Larry David on the truth:

“If you don’t know how amazing a wasabi pea would be in a mini bar, I want nothing to do with you.”

Ralph Waldo Emerson on how society is doomed:

“As long as our civilization is essentially one of property, of fences, of exclusiveness – it will be mocked by delusions. Our riches will leave us sick, there will be bitterness in our laughter, and our wine will burn our mouth.”

A funny moment from Oppenheimer:

Robert Oppenheimer: I tried to poison my tutor.
Jean Tatlock: Did you hate him?
Robert Oppenheimer: I liked him very much.

A harsh reality from Half His Age:

“I want to be fun, I want to be liked. I want to be breezy and carefree and cool. I want whatever he gives me to be enough. I want to be satisfied and grateful, to be content. But I’m not any of those things. I’m hungry and I’m hurting and I want more. I want so much more.”

A quote attributed to, but never said by, Walt Whitman:

“Be curious, not judgmental.”

Tracy Morgan on the world seeing his butt in The Fall and Rise of Reggie Dinkins:

“You’re welcome, world! I got a DONK!”

And a photo dump… as the kids say.

With a great big hug and a kiss from me to you,
Patty

I majored in art history in college because I thought it’d be hilarious to spend 20 years paying for a degree that I’d never use.

The interesting thing about studying art is that you end up studying religion. Even the earliest works of art either depicted gods or were created for gods.

And I don’t know if you noticed this, but Jesus, Mary, and God (sorry, Joseph) appear in A LOT OF ARTWORK. In fact, they kinda kept the medium afloat for a few centuries.

Around the 18th-century, artists shifted away from religion and focused more on daily life, people, and landscapes.

I was curious, so I asked my sister. She studied religion in Catholic school, majored in history, and went to Oxford. We love wasting time and money on our weird interests!!!

“Why did artists stop caring about Jesus?” I asked.

“The Enlightenment.” She said, before returning to reading the King James Bible for fun.

As in, the 18th-century intellectual era focused on reason, science, and individualism.

So, basically, 👏 THE PEOPLE GOT WOKE.👏

They learned new information about crazy things like democracy, oxygen, and DINOSAURS. (Did you know George Washington never knew that dinosaurs existed? Isn’t that wild?)

It must have been a really weird time. Every day, something new was being discovered that forced people to question everything they’d ever known.

I wonder if it felt anything like BEING AN ALIVE PERSON IN 2026.

Except we don’t get useful information — we get unverified, conflicting garbage. We get opinions as truths. We get lies and fear mongering.

And we get lots of it… from too many places.

Every day, headlines be like:

• CARBS are the new FIBER which WAS the new PROTEIN!

• The #1 Way To Age Yourself (wearing leggings in public)

• Knit Your Way To Good Heart Health (unless you’re knitting alone, in which case you’re going to die early and alone from lack of socialization.)

• Millennial Women Are Ruining Civilization By Prioritizing Their Well-Being

• Girl Gets Diagnosed with Colon Cancer After Having Her Colors Analyzed

• Microplastics! They’re Calling From Inside The House!

• A Monkey Named Punch Was Abandoned and Carries A Stuffed Animal Around As Its Mom

The most recent offender was this link I came across:

Voice notes killed the art of conversation.

GOD FORBID PEOPLE TRY TO STAY CONNECTED ANY WAY THEY CAN.

The truth is, I can’t spare the anxiety.

Even though I’ve lost 40 pounds and my gastroenterologist thinks I “look amazing” (groan) — my blood pressure and heart rate are at an all-time high.

I exercise, I take medication, I go outside, I reduced my alcohol intake and stopped drinking coffee, I switched to a job that is less stressful and more financially secure. Nothing has helped. It runs in my family, obviously, but I also just believe that my base level is FIRE DANGER: VERY HIGH.

Things have been happening in my body lately that is causing concern. I can hear my racing heart when I wear noise-cancelling headphones and my right leg just stopped working a few weeks ago. My brain and my right toe would not communicate. NBD.

I don’t have the energy to take on more worries. I have to remind myself that it is not MY responsibility to keep the art of conversation alive, to birth a future generation, or even to avoid everything that can give me cancer.

I don’t want to know!!!

As an old soul, I yearn for a time period that I never experienced. I romanticize candlelit hallways, afternoon visits with friends, and horse-drawn carriages. I choose to ignore silly things like child labor, birth mortality, and streets covered in disease-ridden horse shit.

I know they had their problems, too. But, they didn’t know what they didn’t know.

And God, what I’d give to NOT KNOW THINGS.

STUPID ENLIGHTENMENT!

I do think it’s important to be plugged into reality. I don’t want to lose empathy, or ignore everything that could spike my cortisol.

I just have to control how I get information, and where I get it from. I need data, sources, and humorous delivery! I require the it’s-funny-because-it’s-true energy of Stephen Colbert.

My goal is to approach information and content with intention (like I did with art history!) rather than let voices shout at me from all angles.

Practicing Un-Enlightenment

• Raw dogging the dog park. I set a timer for 30 minutes, sit on a bench, and watch Billie play. No podcasts or books, just sitting.

• Daily limits on Instagram. I don’t think I need a Brick yet, setting a one-hour limit for IG is all I need to swap a few memes.

• Meeting people where they are. This means consciously adjusting to the styles and schedules of other people when I care about maintaining the relationship. Yes, this sometimes means voice notes!!

• Reading > scrolling. I have been taking a book with me everywhere I go and trying to read rather than watch GRWM videos on TikTok in those ~in-between~ moments. (Basically, any time I’m in a waiting room.)

• Unsubscribing. I am tired of SO MANY other people influencing what I buy, what I read, what I think, what I feel.

• Decluttering. The more I get rid of, the less I want to buy!

• Napping. Sometimes, you just need to take a literal break from being woke.

• Turning off notifications. I do not receive any notifications on my phone. I have to go into apps in order to engage (including email and texts.) This helps me stay focused, use unnecessary apps less, and intentionally engage when I have the time.

• Giving people grace / not taking things personally. I tend to be overly “aware” of people’s energy, and I am guilty of making assumptions and believing them. I am usually just making up stories, instead I can just let it go and wait for them to tell me if there’s a problem.

Leonardo DaVinci studied anatomy by digging up graves and carving open dead bodies.

… and it showed in his work! He really understood muscle movement.

But, maybe there are some things that we just don’t need to know? IDK, but when I find out — I’ll send you a voice note.

5 palette cleansers

1. Alyssa Liu had to give up to get gold. How AUTONOMY is necessary for motivation! That’s what I’m fucking talking about!

2. You need to sleep with a humidifier if you’ve been dry and headachey.

3. During the blizzard, my sister and I Barbenheimered. Meaning, we watched Oppenheimer followed by Barbie. It was fun…? Honestly, both main characters had existential crises, they just handled them much differently.

4. I read Half His Age by Jeanette McCurdy this week. It was relevant to my life experience, but I’m not sure how I feel about it. Regardless, I hope she keeps writing because I enjoy her voice.

5. Speaking of art history, there’s nothing I love more than a museum gift shop.

Have a good life,
Patty xo

A few years ago, there was this pandemic happening that kept everyone at home all the time. As a homebody, I really enjoyed this! However, work was slow because we were still figuring out how to deliver all of our in-person programming virtually.

In a mix of boredom and anxiety, I decided to start learning all the time. I took The Science of Well-Being course at Yale (… through Coursera, for free, but I’m basically a Yale graduate). It was full of great information that I still use, but one of the biggest takeaways was the importance of daily gratitude lists.

At first, writing a daily gratitude list felt cringey and repetitive. Like, okay, we get it – you’re grateful for your pets, your health, and weird facts about Queen Victoria. Move on.

Over time, I started to notice more things that I was grateful for.

• The first warm day of the year? Add it to the list.

• Receiving acknowledgement for good work? Add it to the list.

• Seeing a deer in the woods, making eye contact, and having a full conversation with your eyes because you know that they know you’re one of the good ones? ADD IT TO THE LIST.

Last week, I shared my life-long journey of combatting deep, deep shame. Gratitude helps, in a way, but it’s more externally focused. It’s a great way to ground yourself and remember how lucky you are.

But, I’ve been thinking about how I could start making a similar list of the little things that have made me feel loved or seen or considered. It is also VERY cringey, but as expected, it slowly started to help as I recalled the little ways people have shown me love.

+

“Research shows that small things — texts, favors, listening, and shared laughter — add up more than we think. Actively noticing and mentally banking these moments can help us keep a more accurate sense of how much love is already present.”

Laurie Santos (the professor of my Yale course!) in her newsletter.

Basically, love doesn’t have to mean BIG gestures, flowers, or catfishing someone who hates you until they fall in love with you (looking at you, You’ve Got Mail).

“Love is” — as the great Elizabeth Lemon once said — “weird… and sometimes gross.”

Here are some little love notes I’ve collected over time — romantic, familial and platonic — that might not mean much to others, but they made me feel loved and appreciated and lowered my shame meter just a little bit.

Little Love Notes 🫶

♥️ A co-worker noticed I hadn’t eaten lunch so he went out and brought me back a whole ass pizza. (From the OG Regina’s! Which IS THE BEST.)

♥️ Bits!!! Still using inside jokes with friends that have lasted 20+ years. (Which are mostly quotes from Zoolander, Billy Madison, The Wedding Singer, 30 Rock, and Arrested Development.)

♥️ When I first discovered the concept of hygge, I enthusiastically explained it to my ex. He seemed to entertain me but sort of laughed off my passion for it – but soon after he bought me The Little Book of Hygge and would often use the terminology.

♥️ In high school, before we had jobs… or lives, my sister would take me and my best friend, Janine, out for lunch or dinner and pick up the tab. (Actually, she still does that. Am I just taking advantage of her???)

Side note: Not to be mushy, but my sister does a million things for me on a daily basis that shows me she loves me… I could list them all, like how she takes my dog out every night before bed, but she reads this and it will embarrass both of us.

♥️ Memes. I have friendships that are predominantly meme-based and IT FEELS LIKE LOVE every time my friend Casey sends me an otter meme, or Jenny Gibbs sends me a 30 Rock joke, or Cavan sends me a serious reel about bowling even though neither of us bowl.

♥️ During a Secret “Snowman” at a former workplace, we all wrote down three of our interests to provide our gift giver with hints. I know “comedy” was something I put down. So, obviously, my Secret Snowman got me a bunch of MARTIN LAWRENCE STAND-UP DVDS as a bit.

♥️ On my last birthday, I woke up in LA to my friend, Scotty, putting on Home Alone while ordering us mimosas… and a bag of cheetos.

♥️ Every single week, my dad buys (and my mom drops off) TWO Costco rotisserie chickens for the animals.

♥️ My friend Kelly (a VERY thoughtful gift giver) sent me a Little Women vase just because and a heating pad when I had gallbladder surgery.

♥️ The first time I “spent the night” with my ex, I walked into candles lit everywhere and Otis Redding (my favorite) playing.

♥️ When I moved to LA, my friend Casey picked me up at the airport – which is a BIG DEAL IN ITSELF – BLASTING Michael Jackson (also my favorite). He then brought me to our friend Matt’s house where there was a small “Welcome to LA” surprise party waiting for me.

♥️ Music. I love when someone makes me an intentional playlist, but I still have mix CDs Janine made me in the early 2000s in my car!! They are prized possessions.

♥️ On my last day of work at my first real job, the (notoriously hard to win over) CEO gave me a personal card that said, “I never do these kind of things….” and wrote me a really nice note.

♥️ Last week, my friend Ash texted me out of the blue and said, “Remember when hermione got free work done on her teeth”. No “hi” “hello” “how are ya” — this is my love language.

♥️ When my mom, or a friend, asks me to tell them when I land after flying.

I actually started keeping a note in my phone and have been trying to write down one little thing everyday that made me feel considered, loved, or even just proud of my self. AGAIN, IT IS VERY CRINGEY. Yet, it’s nice to slowly collect DATA to shut down that angry little muppet inside of me that says “YOU ARE A MONSTER AND NOBODY LIKES YOU!!!”

galentine’s movies to watch this weekend

Obviously, Parks and Recreation Season 2, Episode 6: “Galentine’s Day” (Peacock)

1. A class RomCom that covers both GALENTINES and VALENTINES is Miss Congeniality.

2. To Wong Foo, Thanks For Everything! Julie Newmar. The makeover scene? 😍

3. Please watch The ‘Burbs on Peacock. Paula Pell, in her Hokas, makes me laugh so hard. The whole cast is very funny. A cul-de-sac of weirdos bonds over solving a local mystery.

4. First Wives Club. Female friendship at its finest.

5. Now and Then. Perfect movie, no notes.

Have a great weekend! My neighbor gave me an entire box of NeilMed Sinus Rinse if anyone wants any!

I love you always forever,
Patty

Last January, my friend, Kelly, posted that story on Instagram and I creepily took a screenshot.

I felt deep deep jealousy in my bones. For one, it looked so warm there and I was in the middle of DRY JANUARY in stupid, cold New England. I think it was also the day I had to shower with my dog to get all the goose poop off her fur.

But also… I wanted to go on a yoga retreat.

Or, realistically, I wanted to BE THE KIND OF PERSON who goes on a yoga retreat!!!

Before, when picturing a yoga retreat, I’d imagine the scene from Eat, Pray, Love when Liz Gilbert sneaks into the Ashram in the middle of the night and immediately starts chanting The Bhagavad Gita with all the other yogis.

That, I can assure you, did not sound like something I would like. All that sitting. All that chanting. All those vegetables. And chores! There were a lot of chores.

But in Kelly’s post, I saw something different. I pictured something less serious, more serene. After a decade of regularly doing yoga, I could actually see myself looking towards the ocean in Warrior II, listening to the waves crash in shavasana…

… as long as it was followed by guac and margaritas! Ladies, am I right!??!?

The only part of the experience that felt as foreign and scary to me as chanting the ‘Gita in India – was being surrounded by a bunch of hot women in matching yoga sets having the time of their lives.

quick psychological detour…

As of today, I have been diagnosed with:

• Depression

• Anxiety

• ADHD - Combined Type (Inattentive and Hyperactive-Impulsive! Brag!)

I am also a product of two families who are predominantly:

• Irish

• Catholic

• Boston-born and raised (Traumachusetts)

So, I have — and am aware — of my many issues. I am medicated by a great psychiatrist and have been in and out of therapy for 20+ years… mostly dealing with the long-lasting impact of guilt and shame.

“Although shame and guilt are elicited by the same kind of situations, they have different consequences. Following a mishap or a transgression, guilt is assumed to motivate the actor to repair their actions. A person who experiences guilt feels that their actions were wrong… A person who experiences shame, however, feels that their whole self is bad and small.

These negative cognitions about the self result in withdrawing or hiding from others, in an attempt to protect the self from additional feelings of failure, as the whole self cannot be easily repaired.” — Scientific Reports

I share this to say… I know. I know that I am worthy and deserving and beautiful and smart and doggone it, people like me. I know.

But those words mean nothing against an entire lived experience accepting and believing that there are some experiences made for certain people and I am just not one of them. I am not good enough for them, and I don’t deserve them. The only conclusion I’ve ever drawn is that the core problem is me.

AND YET — I also know that living my life in shame is trivial, self-obsessive, and boring.

Which is why I am writing this story — and will be writing more — about forcing myself to do uncomfortable things and get over myself. Since Forcing Myself To Do Uncomfortable Things and Get Over Myself is too long a title, I’m calling it I’M DOING SOMETHING!

k, back to scary hot women

As a teenage girl, I spent most summer days inside the house watching other teens have fun at summer camp on Bug Juice.

I never played any sports (please! don’t act so shocked!) but I was a dancer for about thirteen years. Although dance is very much a team sport, it wasn’t treated that way. It was EVERY GIRL FOR HERSELF.

From a very young age, I knew that I was a talented dancer. Something about it clicked for me. I felt that I was appropriately praised by my instructors and rewarded with advanced choreography in the top classes.

But once those hormones started racing through my body, things changed. As the boobs and hips grew, the self-esteem waned.

All the confidence I once had in my ability was completely cast aside by the dread of wearing spandex in front of a crowd, the realization that all the girls I danced with were more “popular” at school, and learning that talent wasn’t valued as much as beauty, or thinness.

I ultimately quit dance because of it.

So, I really put all of that trauma to the test when I decided to join my friend Kelly, and all her hot friends in matching yoga sets, on the beach in Mexico for this January’s yoga retreat.

primero, mexico city

Before the yoga portion of the trip, I planned to meet Kelly and two of her friends in Mexico City. We would stay at a chic little hotel, shop, and eat all the foods. While I was happy to ease into the trip with a smaller group of people, I was also anxious. They were all arriving together from L.A. and I was coming from Boston. I was worried that they’d have a good travel vibe going that I would immediately ruin by existing.

This was eased when I met up with them, of course. Since Kelly and I were sharing a room, we got to catch-up briefly before meeting our travel companions in the lobby.

I already know – and love - Kelly’s friend Vern, so it was a relief that she seemed genuinely excited to see me in return. And meeting Riley was somehow like reuniting with an old friend. The four of us would spend our mornings in cozy robes, eating the fanciest breakfasts.

Some of the other retreat girls were also in Mexico City, so we occasionally met up with them and it was all very easy. I was nervous and initially planned on laying low until one girl, Torrey, hugged me, said she’d heard a lot about me, and told me about her cat. Easiest way to my heart!

Nobody gave me any signals that I stuck out like a sore thumb on their Hot Girl Getaway! Crazy, right?

But then one day… the shame caught up with me.

1. I got stung. I think? Something happened and it hurt!

2. I tripped and fell… because I was looking at a cute pug. (Duh.)

3. We went to a cute bar for a pre-dinner, post-street quesadilla cocktail. I did not understand many words on the menu, but one drink had mezcal (love), gin (ok), a bunch of other things I couldn’t translate and marmalade? Sure, why not.

I’ll tell you why not.

You know when you have leftover shrimp and cocktail sauce, so you throw it all in a blender to make a drink? No, of course you don’t, because nobody would fucking do that yet that’s exactly what this drink tasted like. A literal shrimp cocktail.

All of the small things piled up and I felt really dumb. Kelly and Vern were enjoying their NORMAL ORDERS of Mexican beers and tequila shots… and all I could think was, “I do not belong here.”

I retreated to the hotel to shower and journal away the shame; I felt overwhelmed with embarrassment and imposter syndrome. Writing it all out actually made me laugh because it was so stupid.

1. I was embarrassed for falling because it showed everyone who I really am… A CLUMSY GIRL. (Gasp!)

2. I was embarrassed for UNKNOWINGLY GETTING IN THE WAY OF A BUG. Who does that?!?!

3. I don’t speak fluent Spanish (but can read it pretty well) and was mad at myself for not reading it correctly and getting stuck with shrimp juice.

These “mistakes” have absolutely nothing to do with who I am as a person.

I was there to purposely get outside of my comfort zone. You cannot do that without a couple of fails, but you must do it without labeling yourself a failure.

When it was time for our final dinner, I was ready to move on and order a nice, safe copa de rosado alongside our meal of shrimp tacos WITH THE HEADS STILL ON. 😩

core work in puerto escondido

After a quick flight from Mexico City, we landed in A VERY HOT Puerto Escondido around 2 PM. There, we met up with our poor friend, Scotty, who had been dealing with travel issues (delays, bag checks, payingalargesumtoavoidjailtime, THE USUAL).

The road to the resort was, cómo se dice… unpaved? Quite the bumpy ride.

“This feels like the beginning of Jurassic Park… or a horror movie where strangers go on a retreat and there’s a murder.”

I said… out loud.

“I don’t mean like an Agatha Christie murder mystery where we all die one-by-one!” I added after multiple groans, as if it would help.

It’s hard for me to write about this portion of the trip without sounding like Samantha Brown, host of Great Hotels on the Travel Channel in 2001. Although, she is a queen and I do love her.

Part of me wants to share every detail of the villas – like how the showers had two shower heads but no door and how every night I had to decide if I wanted lamp or if I wanted charger.

But that’s not what this is about. So, just believe me when I say the villas were quirky, and beautiful, and it didn’t even matter what the room looked like because the whole point was to be outside.

As soon as we were able to access our room, we dumped our luggage and put on swimwear. With a few hours left until our kickoff practice, we had time to swim, drink, and lounge in the sun.

And I. Felt. Weird!

My pale pink one-piece with its hand-beaded tomato (don’t worry, I paid less than $100 for it) was BASICALLY the same color as my skin. It honestly felt like a costume I’d wear for a gymnastics routine, which transported me right back to the dance studio – with its WALLS of mirrors and OVERHEAD lighting.

The teenage Patty inside of me whispered, “Why do I have to be so different?”

It reminded me of the time my friend’s class danced to “Yellow Polka Dot Bikini” (while wearing yellow polka dot bikinis, of course) and I had to dance to “PURPLE PEOPLE EATER”. We are not the same.

But I wasn’t about to let something as silly as my dumb meat body stop me from having fun. And I did have fun! As I should have expected, nobody cared or said anything? Everyone was just there to have fun? And with that, I mostly let go of my body dysmorphia for the entire trip…

… and instead focused on my WEIRD PERSONALITY!!!

At our first group dinner, Scotty and I were late to the table, so we sat with people we hadn’t met yet. Scotty was exuberant and had the table laughing, while I struggled to connect. I felt like a barnacle clinging to my friend’s side, so I quietly slipped away (aka Irish Goodbyed) and went back to my room to wallow in self-pity.

Not to be a jerk, but connection is kinda my thing. In fact, it’s literally in my job description as a facilitator. I am skilled at leading a discussion, bringing people together, making people feel seen… and I’m also a fucking comedian. Yet, when I’m not the one in charge, I turn into this emoji: 🥴

It was really triggering that every part of this experience so far – even though I was having a great time – made me feel like I was in high school. Again, not because of what anyone else was doing, but because of my inability to stop comparing myself to everyone else.

After a deep sleep, aided by Mexican pain meds, I decided to try a new approach. For once in my life, it wasn’t my responsibility to work the room and ensure everyone was having a good time.

My mottos became i am not responsible for anyone’s joy but my own and speak less, listen more. Something I could afford to do more often in my daily life. This led to having smaller, deeper conversations with people one-on-one. I still made jokes and waaaay overshared, but my goal was genuine connection and not winning everyone over.

Ultimately, I grew closer with my own best friends – Kelly and Scotty – and NEW BEST FRIENDS, Torrey, Vern and Riley. I only lost my cool once when I found out Riley WAS ON THE AFOREMENTIONED BUG JUICE!!!!

There were ups, and downs, and times where I felt like I was trying way too hard to fit in. I tried to balance those out with pockets of alone time, reading in one of the empty pools (there were four) and taking naps after too much sun. I intentionally used the twice daily practices to recalibrate my nervous system.

I also had a lot of margaritas. Sometimes made illegally.

By the end of the trip, I was legitimately sad to leave. I stayed in the pool with a morning marg until thirty minutes before we had to leave. By this point, I didn’t give a DAMN about who liked me or hated me. I belonged there just as much as everyone else.

Except, unfortunately, I did have to leave and return to A MASSIVE SNOWSTORM IN BOSTON. But, it was all good because I did what I set out to do. I forced myself out of my comfort zone, confronted my shame, made new (hot!) friends, and I even got to post my own Instagram story.