From Holley, With Love • Friday, 033123

Call it a comeback.

Whew. Happy Equinox, y’all. 

It’s been almost a full term pregnancy since we last convened here. And though I’m not with child in the literal sense, I’ve been deep in the throes of the seemingly endless work that is reparenting oneself.

When I wrote to us last June, I was amped that I’d figured out a new vision and direction for this newsletter, and I had a sense of how to steer toward it. Then I hit a wall. Hard. From Holley, With Love was featured on Substack Discover, hundreds of new folks pulled up, and performance anxiety crept in with every new subscriber email notification. 

At the time of receiving the great news of being featured, there was so much coming undone in my personal life that I was too engulfed in the shame of not “having it all together” and the threat of being “found out” to enjoy it. Oftentimes visibility kicks up this internal narrative that creates an Instant Pot-esque pressure encouraging me to believe that if people are watching – or in this case: reading and listening – then I must be nothing short of excellent and unwavering in my faux perfection in order to be worthy of…well, existing. Behold, a recovering people pleaser. It’s a childhood practice that made its way into my adulting toolbox because it proved to be useful to my survival. But let’s be honest – it’s actually just a slower, more painful way to die by your own hands. 

9 months ago, I had a really hard time naming that out loud to myself, so you know I cringed at the idea of being naked enough to name it plainly here. Grappling with the tension that comes with the desire to be seen and the vulnerability that it requires, I opted for silence¹ and Homer Simpson’ed into the bushes to process all the big conflicting feelings and transitions I was in the thick of before attempting to write about them here. 

I feel like what can often be missed in the conversation about being seen is that it requires YOU to see yourself, too. It begs a willingness to bear witness to your own gifts and greatness and the cracks, bruises, and imperfections that exist in tandem. It then asks you to take it a step further and hold all the parts of you with grace and tenderness; especially when disdain feels more tempting. Throughout my hiatus, I’ve devoted time to a practice of liking, trusting, and loving myself in a way that centers my own pleasure so that I don’t lose myself in the seduction of chasing external reverence.

The summer and fall were a dizzying blur of highs, lows, and mundane middles that decorate the space in between. Witnessing my big brother marry the love of his life, photoshoots and interviews, relationship endings (sidenote: we gotta talk about adult heartbreak more often because sheesh, it’s a damn doozy), surprise birthday parties, submitting promising but incomplete coursework for grad school (thank God for resits 🙏🏾), sweet potato harvests at the homestead, seasonal depression and a bunch more bursts of joy to transmute the sorrow. 

And the winter? Ohhh, it was a beautiful chrysalis. In the dark stillness of the season, I loved up on my people, let my guard down for them to love up on me, and loved up on myself² until I found and exercised the courage to be with the four questions that had been tugging at me for some months before (and of course I’m paraphrasing most of my answers here): 

1. Who are you when you’re not someone else’s?
   I am a home that I and all that I am wish to return to.⁣³

2. What genre are you committed to living out?
   Fantasy non-fiction. 

3. Are you willing to bet on yourself before you invite others to (and even if others don’t)?
   To quote the great Harlem poet, Mason Durell Betha: “We don’t play around, it’s a bet, lay it down.” 

4. What’s next for FHWL?
   In my time away, there were moments where I dramatically considered shutting this whole operation down 🙃 but the truth is, I feel haunted when I don’t write. Like language is trapped beneath the surface of my skin, pleading to get out. When I strip away all the false narratives and get down to my core; I write because I want to, I need to, it feeds me, and I love it. And though sometimes the responsibility of how I choose to express these words feels terrifying, I’m still a writer, even when I’m afraid.

I have lots more to say and share with you, and I’d love for you to stay awhile and share with me, too. This time around I’d like to do that in a more sustainable way, and at a slower pace. My vision for From Holley, With Love moving forward is a participatory multimedia publication of practical stories, resources, and inspiration for becoming who you are and creating work you love. That includes a few components:

• From Holley, With Love: A monthly essay of musings and explorations on self-actualization, creative practice and process, and liberatory approaches to work; occasionally sprinkled with questions to help us get closer to the truth.

• In lieu of the everything in one place format the newsletter previously took on, I’m separating things out into two additional sections⁴:

  • Gifts for Your Growth: Multimedia finds, products, resources, practices and digital + IRL experiences to enrich your life. Those posts will come twice a month starting in April 2023. 

  • Seven Bops: A community sourced playlist curated to move you through the week. Every Wednesday beginning April 5, 2023, I’ll create a thread for submissions. From the bops you submit and what I’m currently listening to, I’ll curate a set of seven songs to share every Sunday starting April 9, 2023. 

• For those of you who are willing, we’ll also play around with the thread and chat features here on Substack so there’s more space for us to get to know each other. Let’s have some fun!

Thank y’all so much for choosing to be here. It feels really good to be back. 

Love always (and talk to you soon), 

HMKM

1. I’ll be more transparent about communicating in the future when I need pockets of hibernation.

2. Adult ballet, tai chi, driving lessons, solo dates, pampering, meditation, breath work, depth hypnosis, therapy, conversations with God, time at my altar, nature walks, audio journaling, bomb ass meals, buying tickets to see my favorite artists perform live, and more.

3. Adapted from this journal reflection via Dr. Kholi.

4. If you decide that you’d just like to receive the FHWL monthly essays, you can go to your Substack settings to unsubscribe from the other sections at any time.