paws on pause

Why hello, my friends! It's good to be back together ~

I've been sliding my way into the new year, imagining this period between solstice and January 21 as one long, single, gracious night. Despite the slow start, I'm finding my way. I hope you are, too.

January is always a complicated beginning because it is the month that holds my greatest darkness. It's one I've come to dread because of the ways it's taken me down. January is the month I lost my mother-in-law, the month I stopped drinking, the month I would cease to be married. For someone who likes things tied neatly in a bow, January has proven to be the month of my unraveling.

For many years, I’ve found myself lost, walking into the past, experiencing each moment as a personal failure or a story to be second-guessed rather than as a necessary series of surrenders. And so this year, I set an intention to be gentle with myself—to pause.

The first thing I did to mark this period as different was to go off IG because while I’ve never considered myself to be addicted to social media, and I’m not really an overly prolific poster, I’m absolutely guilty of falling prey to the endless scroll, especially in the wee hours of the evening when I should be prioritizing my sleep. Deleting the app from my phone would be my version of Dry January, and for the first few days, the experience was exhilarating. I didn’t miss what I was seemingly missing because, in truth, who was I really following? Taylor Swift? Talking Dogs?

And then, I panicked. I had a trip planned to New York City to look at art with a friend. But how would that work? How could I travel and not let you know I was there? It would be almost as if I hadn't gone at all, which is an absurd thought, and it’s definitely happened to me before.

Like the time I left my phone on a plane en route to the Galapagos. Or the time my phone slipped between the seats in a high school auditorium, and I only discovered it was gone after the building was locked and impossible to retrieve before an early morning flight for (a different trip to) New York. Last February, I left my phone in my hotel room in Los Angeles only after I was on a bus for Frieze. Each of these times, I panicked, then berated myself for letting this happen before finally settling into the reality that I would have to adjust. Each time, I survived. No one noticed. The world went on. I went on.

My trip to New York ultimately didn’t happen because a Nor’easter had other plans, but it made me take a hard look at the question—who am I taking pictures (so many pictures) for in the first place?

I’ve made photographs my entire life; I studied photography in graduate school and exhibited my work in galleries. Tribeca galleries. I love seeing the world through the lens of a camera. However, making something for myself feels entirely different than what has (sometimes) become a performative act: documenting my life with the sole intention of curating and displaying it online.

Before social media and smartphones, I can remember relishing the anonymity of being in New York. To not shout into the void, “See me, see me.” To notice for the sake of noticing rather than recording—to neither show nor tell.

Will I return to IG after this month is over? Maybe. Maybe not. All I know is the act of logging off has been a potent reminder of what it can mean to allow the experience to be the experience.

Which brings me to the other thing that happened this month. Instead of scrolling through pictures of other people’s puppies, John and I got one of our own.

To be clear, this was absolutely NOT on my January list of things to do, but in the hours before the ill-fated trip to NYC, I got a text from Olive’s breeder.

Are you still interested in a puppy?

Yes? Are you expecting a litter?

Have puppies now

Fuck.

Instead of going to the Frick, we took Gertie to meet the puppies, and before you say anything, I KNOW—no one ever goes and just looks at puppies. The timing couldn’t be worse, but is there ever a good time to get a puppy?? Still, sometimes you know. You listen to your heart, and then the universe gives you an extra nudge by depositing an unanticipated insurance check for the exact amount of the puppy into your bank account the day after you have met the said puppy.

And so, on January 12, we brought this sweet baby home. Meet Violet.

Needless to say, we’re all pretty smitten.

Especially Gertie.

Violet is the dog she never knew she wanted.

It’s been an amazing week, and it’s been exhausting because puppy = cute + chaos. I’m happy to report it only took her two days before she slept through the night, but I’m also being reminded of what it was like having a newborn. You know, when you put “shower” on your to-do list.

Gratefully, Newfies are hardy, snow-loving creatures, and we have a fenced-in yard to ease the housebreaking experience because, to quote the dude, there’s been “a lot of ins, a lot of outs, a lot of what-have-yous.” 

John and I have bets on what will be devoured first. Since it’s winter, I’m going with mittens. Most likely a single mitten. Definitely cashmere.

Yes, there will be days I will be kicking myself for this decision, but there will be so many more years I will not because, at the end of the day, I’m just a two-giant-dog kind of girl. I seem to like living with livestock.

If you get a puppy on a social media break, did you really get a dog? Of course, the answer is yes, but I’m leaning into my paws on pause and into the richer conversations to be had with friends about Violet, among other things, ever more so than just clicking a ♥️.

There is no fear of missing out, at least for now. Not yet.

Which brings me to my final January adventure. On Thursday, my brother texted me:

…I am thinking about flying into Buffalo for the game. I have no seats. I have no plane ticket. I have no hotel. I have nothing, just a desire to see the Bills beat the Chiefs. Would you guys want to go?

And that’s why I’ll be layering up in a few hours to sit in the bitter cold and watch the AFC Divisional Championship. Note, I’m not calling it the Bills game because, shhhhhh, I’m a Chiefs fan. But for the sake of my relationship with my brother, and pretty much with every other human in Western NY, not to mention my safety in the stadium itself, I will keep my “Chiefs karma” on the down low. You won’t see any of this on social media either, even if I happen to run into Taylor and take a selfie. Nope, not even then.

All of this is to say I’m doing my best to enter into this January softly and with presence. To refuse the anxiety around things I have no control. I can’t change my past and don’t wish to dwell on it, nor can I live in fear of the future. The state of the world, the weather, what Violet will destroy—any thought that will send me into a spin to make a mess of my life and smash it into a thousand pieces. I can go on.

The future is too immense to imagine. It will happen, that’s all.¹ 

My life isn’t perfect, but it’s not broken, even in the dark and cold of January. It never was, not by a long shot. I can trust in the power of presence and believe in light.

Thanks for reading - I’ll be back in your inbox on Friday.

xosew

Tell me, is there something that defines your January, that holds your darkness, something you can define in a new way? I’d love to know.

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UPCOMING

Close to Home: Blurring the Boundaries of Gender | New Narrative Medicine Workshop Series

alexander grey

Beginning February 20, my colleague Cathy DeFoor, MD and I are offering a narrative medicine workshop series for all caregivers  of transgender folks.

Join us for some shared time of creative exploration and reflection around common themes in parenting transgender folks. Each 90 minute workshop will begin with a guided discussion, followed by a period of personal reflection/journal writing, ending with time for (voluntary) sharing. These sessions are are structured to be supportive and inclusive. Our intention is to hold a creative space for processing our own experiences and learn from the stories of others. This is NOT group therapy although many pay find the process to be therapeutic.

When: Tuesday, February 20, March 5 + 19     7 - 8:30 pm ET

Session I: What’s in a Name?

Session II: Remembering in the Now

Session III: Paradoxical Parenting

Cost: tiered pricing to accommodate all budgets + scholarships available | a portion of the proceedings will be donated to Lambda Legal

Workshops limited to 15 participants

REGISTER HERE or email me with your questions

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1. Annie Ernaux