I’m writing to you today from a flex desk at my coworking space in Amsterdam. I’m on the second floor of a canal house that faces the Herengracht, one of the main canals in the center of the city. It’s sunny — finally! The streets are swarming with tourists, and there are little green leafy buds on the tree branches.

This city is so beautiful in the spring, summer, and fall that it makes up for the long, dark, and wet winters. I’m actually wondering what I’m doing here, typing on my computer instead of roaming the streets or sipping a cold beer while sitting at a café terrace, but here we are.

I’ve been in a bit of a reading frenzy lately, which I’m not mad about. I recently discovered worldofbooks.com, where you can buy secondhand books at really great prices, and it has reminded me of my preference for paperback books (rather than reading on my Kindle). I like underlining sentences and leaving notes in the margins. I just ordered a handful of used books on the topic of loss and grief because a) it’s relevant to me right now and b) I’m doing research to see if there’s space in the market for my story.

For a while now, I’ve been toying with the idea of writing a non-fiction book, but with very little knowledge of how book publishing works and good old imposter syndrome, I haven’t gotten very far. Like, who would want to read my story? Also, what is my story, really?

I recently learned that with memoir/non-fiction books, you don’t actually write the book up front. You (attempt to) sell it with a book proposal, which is essentially a business plan for your book, outlining its chapters, audience, where it fits in the market, and why it matters, and you include a few sample chapters in the hope of finding an agent. Then they tear apart your idea and help you shape it into a book people would actually want to read. Just kidding, I have no idea if they tear it apart, but I think they probably influence how it shapes up.

Anyway, Things in Nature Merely Grow by Yiyun Li has been on my list for a while. If I’m into a book, I usually read it quite fast. Like, within one to three days, depending on how long it is. This book is 172 pages, and I could have finished it in one sitting, but I didn’t want to. I wanted to take my time. I wanted to sit with it. I wanted to soak it in because Li’s approach to grief — at least from what I learned from this book — is that, in short, we’re approaching it all wrong. And maybe “grief” isn’t even the right word?

On page 154, Li writes:

“We like to set our hearts on a finish line, hoping to take the right actions so that we can reach that finish line fast and with the least hassle or pain. Perhaps this urge reflects a desire to mark time in a different way: to harness time for gain. And yet in life, time cannot be harnessed.”

When we think about grief, we think that it starts, there’s a messy middle, we get through it, and then we move on. But I think we have an ongoing relationship with it and the person we lost, so can you really move on?

It’s continuous, and I feel like it could always be there, so you need to accept it and live with it, and actually that’s not so bad… It’s even enlightening at times.

Things in Nature Merely Grow is introspective but unsentimental. It’s about radical acceptance. Rather than offering a narrative of healing or resolution, Li writes about literature, philosophy, and daily life. It feels like she’s sitting with her sadness, pain, and guilt — and allowing us to pull up a chair — rather than trying to explain it. Li resists the idea that loss can be transformed into meaning or growth; instead, she writes about endurance and how we must learn to continue to live alongside what cannot be fixed.

Her story is quite devastating — she lost both her sons to suicide, six years apart — but still, she writes about her losses in a way that feels almost anti-performative. She doesn’t make any big declarations; there are no tidy narrative arcs. She even adds touches of humor in the chapter where she writes about all the wrong ways that people tried to console her.

So I guess this was my long-winded way of saying that I loved the book. I will read it again and again. And for anyone who likes memoirs, if you can handle the topic of losing a child (I don’t blame you if you can’t), I recommend reading it. Now I’m off to enjoy some sunshine!

See you soon,

Alexis

P.S. If you’ve read Things in Nature Merely Grow, I’d love to know your thoughts!

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Last Friday, I went to a book talk at The American Book Center, an independent English-language bookstore here in Amsterdam. It was my first time attending this type of event, but I figured if I hope to write a book one day, I’d better start learning more about how all this works.

The author, , wrote a short, digestible guide for dealing with loss — the loss of a job, an opportunity, your home, a relationship, a dream, a loved one, or yourself. It’s called Do Loss, and I read it in one gulp that night in bed. Wild Friday night, I know.

I like how Sue framed the different stages of grief as cocooning, adapting, and emerging. She also reassures the reader that you might dip in and out of the different stages. There’s no right way to do it. I think it’s important to accept that you’ll never be the you that you were before. You’re learning this new version of yourself.

She also reminds us that two things can be true at once. Both/and. It made me feel better — or more normal — about the fact that while losing my mom recently was one of the saddest, hardest experiences of my life, I’m also allowed to be relieved that her suffering and our living in limbo is over.

Sue writes:

“You’re transformed and you’re still you. You honor what was lost and embrace what’s new. You can feel joy and still have moments of sadness. You’ve grown stronger and the hurt doesn’t vanish. This isn’t emotional confusion — it’s emotional maturity.”

I think letting duality exist and learning how to hold both feelings is important not only in grief and loss but in most areas of life!

♢♢♢

Before the event, while waiting for a friend in front of the ABC, I noticed an older man who didn’t look well. He stood next to a garbage bin, his right forearm resting on it, and his left hand on his chest. He looked stunned. He wore a dark blue velvet blazer, glasses, and khaki pants. His face looked pale, but I also had no idea what he looked like when he was well. I observed for a minute to avoid crowding him. Then he walked a few feet to a bench and stood, leaning against its back. I thought he might keel over, so I approached him.

“Are you OK?” I said.

“No,” he said.

“Would you like me to call someone?” I said

“What did you notice?” he said.

“You looked unsteady, and you were touching your chest,” I said.

“Yes, I don’t know what’s happening,” he said.

Then he put both hands on his chest to indicate where he felt pressure. His face grew paler, and I noticed moisture developing near his temples.

“Who should we call?” he said.

“Your family? 112?” I said.

“112,” he said.

I called 112 (the equivalent of 911 in the US). Once someone answered, he reached over and asked for my phone.

He held my phone to his left ear and explained his symptoms to the operator. He spoke in Dutch, so I didn’t understand everything, but I got the gist. He was feeling chest pressure and tingling in his arm. He also mentioned his age: tweeënzestig (sixty-two). Holy s—! This is serious, I thought.

In the 10–15 minutes that we waited for the ambulance to arrive, he was calm. He asked my name and what I do in Amsterdam, which I appreciated, but it also felt trivial to talk about. Like most things have felt for me in the almost three months since my mom died. I am definitely still in the cocooning phase of grief.

♢♢♢

I asked again if he wanted me to call someone. A family member. He said his son was working until 5 pm and that he didn’t want to bother him. That surprised me; it was only 45 minutes until then. I would want to know if my dad was experiencing chest pains and waiting on the street for an ambulance. But then again, why worry your family if they can’t control the outcome?

“Do you have a piece of paper?” he said.

I pulled out a notepad from my backpack, and before I could tear off a sheet of paper, he said, “No, leave it like that,” and reached for it.

He jotted down his name, email, and phone number, using a felt-tip pen, then passed it back to me to do the same. I tore off the bottom half with my information and handed it to him. He folded it and put it in the inside left pocket of his dark blue velvet blazer. The other piece, with his info, remained attached in my notebook.

It felt very old school, sharing information on paper when we both have iPhones, but it was also endearing.

We stood there together in silence on a beautiful, sunny spring day. Two strangers, sharing this scary moment. I didn’t know what to say, or if I should say anything at all. I also didn’t want to make him use his energy on small talk.

“I’m sorry I’m not more communicative,” he said.

“Oh, please, do not worry,” I said. “That’s OK.”

Then I offered him water, pulling my half-full, light purple Nalgene bottle from my backpack. He took a few sips, let out a few burps, and then apologized. Again, I told him not to worry.

Poor man, I thought. This must be scary, but he was still so calm. Concerned, but holding it together.

The irony was that I was heading into a book talk about loss, and the book was written by a woman who had lost her husband 10 years ago to a heart attack.

♢♢♢

When we heard the ambulance sirens coming around the corner, I ran out to the street looking for the bright yellow vehicle with blue flashing lights, waving my arm, like I’d hail a taxi in New York.

After I passed my new friend off to the ambulanceverpleegkundige (ambulance nurse), I ran into the bookstore, up the two flights of stairs to the room where the book talk was taking place. All the seats appeared to be full.

“Sorry, I’m late!” I said. “There was a man outside having chest pains, so we called an ambulance, and I wanted to wait with him.”

“That’s the best excuse I’ve ever heard,” the bookstore employee said. A man, whom I assume was in his 40s with dark hair and round glasses with a black frame, kind of like an older, attractive Harry Potter.

“It sounds like you saved his life,” he said.

“Well, I don’t know about that,” I said.

Then he found me a seat so I could watch the rest of the book discussion. Sue talked about writing Do Loss and explained that after working in corporate America for over 30 years, this was her calling. She read a passage that was a note her husband had left in a box, explaining that he wanted her and their kids to be happy and carry on even if he were gone. If something happened to him.

They handed out pens and a piece of paper, while Sue instructed us to draw a diagram — essentially a continuous line with peaks and valleys — to illustrate the highs and lows in our lives. It shows us how resilient we are. It’s our default to bounce back, and we always recover, eventually. We fear hitting rock bottom, but the beauty of that is that the only way is up.

♢♢♢

The next morning, I couldn’t stop thinking about the man in front of the bookstore. I wondered if he was OK, so I sent him an SMS.

He replied:

“Hi alexis. I am at the IC still. But if all goes well tomorrow back home. I will let you know then. Thank you so much for being there at that time. Have a great day.”

I was relieved. I wasn’t expecting to hear from him again, but on Monday, I noticed an email with the subject “Kindness of a stranger” in my inbox.

He wrote:

“As you can probably imagine, your alertness, especially in retrospect, has been the subject of much thought. I am not sure what I would have done if you had not stopped and inquired about my wellbeing and been so kind as to stay there with me for the next 12 minutes.”

I smiled at the fact that he remembered — even in a moment of distress — that it was exactly 12 minutes. It feels like a very Dutch thing to be so precise. He also confirmed that he was indeed having a heart attack, but that the damage was minimal since everything went quickly.

Then he wrote:

“I hope we will get a chance to maybe meet once again - but this time intended - so I can thank you over a coffee in person.”

I’m glad I was paying attention to my surroundings that day instead of doomscrolling as I waited for my friend in front of the bookstore, because if I hadn’t, who knows what would’ve happened.

Helping a stranger in need felt small and insignificant at the time, but now I realize I was part of a brief moment that could have gone very differently.

A lot has felt pointless, muted, and trivial lately, but standing there with him, in those 12 minutes that he remembers so precisely, I was pulled out of my own head and planted back into the present. Into someone else’s life. Into something that really mattered right then and there.

Maybe that’s part of the both/and, too. You can be deep in grief and still show up for a stranger. You can feel the weight of loss and still be part of something that keeps another person here a little longer.

When I think back on that day — the diagram of life’s peaks and valleys, the note Sue’s husband left about carrying on, helping the man in a velvet blazer — I’m reminded that life keeps moving. It pulls you back in, even when you feel like you’re watching from the sidelines.

♢♢♢

Thanks for reading this random story, and in case you missed it, I recently shared some other loss and grief-related books here.

Take care,

Alexis

P.S. It would mean a lot to me if you hit the ♡ button to help others find this post. Also, if you are able to upgrade your subscription or share my work with a friend, I would be so grateful! Thank you so much. (Also, I don’t have an editor, so pardon any misplaced commas or run-on sentences; I’m human. 🤗)

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I love how travel disrupts my routine. Certain habits follow me wherever I go, but when I travel, I read way more and binge-watch a lot less TV. Groundbreaking, I know. Don’t get me wrong, I still spend a lot of time sitting on my ass, especially during this trip that I was hoping to use as a bit of a reset since life hasn’t exactly been all rainbows and sunshine lately. Is it ever?

I guess with more time spent outdoors and offline while traveling, I’m less inclined to feel like I want to stare at a black box and zone out when the sun goes down. The sunshine, something Amsterdam winters don’t bless us with, obviously helps. I need to get out more at home, clearly!

For a long time, I’ve been trying to accomplish a 4-hour workday (mainly to decrease screen time), which should be possible, given that most of the content marketing and writing I do requires deep focus, and realistically, my brain can’t handle more than 4 hours of that in a day. Apparently, full-time employees clock about 2–3 hours of deep focus work per day, with the rest spent in meetings or responding to emails and messages.

I’m a freelancer, so I don’t deal with all that, but there are still these invisible, self-imposed chains that keep me at my desk during “normal” working hours. I often find myself sitting at my desk, doing busywork to fill the time. I think it’s a case of my brain wrestling with good old should-versus-want. Am I doing this because I want to, or because I think I should? Such a simple question, but it’s often hard to decipher. Anyway, this was supposed to be a quick intro to this week’s issue of Things Worth Sharing, and now it’s becoming a bit of a philosophical work-life balance ramble… Welcome to my brain. Lol.

1. Weekly conversations with my 10-year-old niece are bringing me so much joy right now. The other day, she called and asked if she could sing her chorus songs to me. All four of them. It was the cutest thing. She stood in front of her phone camera, held up the sheet music, and did a little performance just for me. Our budding relationship makes me feel connected to my mom and my past. Like a full-circle moment. I can’t quite explain it. Her mini-concert reminded me of when I used to spend hours practicing gymnastic routines and then perform them for my mom in our living room. My niece also asks me questions that I once asked my mom, like “How old were you when you got your period?” I suppose motherhood/parenthood involves this type of love times a million, but I’m still fine with aunthood. Sissy, in case you’re reading this, you are raising an amazing girl.

2. There were so many great nuggets in Wintering by , but my main takeaway is that it’s normal and OK to have seasons in life. We shouldn’t fight our “winters”, but embrace them instead. Ease into winter and let it run its course because eventually the grey, cold, and snow will clear and spring will come again. Winter will also come again and AGAIN, but each time you’ll be better prepared to deal with it. Have you read it? What did you think?

3. I was a little skeptical about A Year of Nothing by because I feel like “a year of nothing” is a privilege that most people don’t have, but I like that Gannon acknowledges that. Even though a year of nothing is not in my cards, as someone who often feels like I need to do, be, or achieve more, this book feels like a little nudge to slow down and acknowledge that you’re doing enough and you are enough.

4. The Light of the World by Elizabeth Alexander is a beautifully written memoir about the author’s experience of suddenly losing her seemingly healthy husband to a heart attack. I like that she writes openly about her grieving process, and while reading her story, I couldn’t help but wish that my mom would appear in my dreams in the same way her deceased husband often did. One thing I missed, though, was more about the complexities of their relationship. Clearly, there was deep love, but there were a few instances when she mentioned they had hard times too (naturally). I wanted to know more about that side of things. Like, we lose someone we love, and of course, we’re flooded with loving, happy thoughts about them, but there are other thoughts and emotions, too. There’s unfinished business. I feel like that should be normalized and talked about. Or maybe I’m just trying to scratch my own itch, which brings me to the next point…

5. The three books I just mentioned have inspired me to write more candidly about this time in my life. I touched on it a bit in this post, but since writing helps me understand things better, I’m working on creating a space within Mera Magazine where I’ll write to untangle the complicated grief of losing my mom to Alzheimer’s in my 30s. My hope is that it resonates with others, too, which is something I found touching when readers wrote to me and shared their similar experiences after reading my HuffPost Personal essay about tricking my mom into assisted living. Maybe it will be my own memoir in progress, although I’m not sure how it will shape up yet. That’s the beauty of it! More on this next week.

6. I’m in the midst of reading Furiously Happy by , who makes me laugh (in my head and out loud), even when she’s writing about her struggles with mental illness. I love how she takes you along on the ride of a particular time in her life, but also of the writing experience itself.

7. On a completely different (lighter) note, this sun cream that was recommended by two friends for a previous (skincare) edition of Things Worth Sharing is a winner. It’s the first sun cream that I haven’t wanted to scrub off my face immediately.

8. Have you seen Vladimir on Netflix? Steamy. But also, it made me want to buy yellow legal pads and lock myself in a cabin to write. (I’m proud of myself, this is the only series I binge-watched on holiday — ha!).

9. In case you missed it, earlier this week, I shared 10 books that helped me through my mom’s Alzheimer’s and long goodbye. Aside from one practical guidebook, they’re all nice reads, regardless (at least I think so).

We’re starting our descent into Amsterdam Schiphol airport, so I’ll leave it at 9 things worth sharing this week, but I have a question for you guys! I’m looking for some light, fun reads, and I imagine I’m not alone. Share your book recs in the comments, please! Thank you.

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Take care,

Alexis

P.S. It would mean a lot to me if you hit the ♡ button to help others find this post. Also, if you are able to upgrade your subscription or share my work with a friend, I would be so grateful! Thank you so much.

Now I feel like I have so much knowledge about caring for an aging parent (or a person with a terminal illness), from the emotional to the logistical to the administrative stuff that, honestly, I wish I never had to learn. But I suppose we all go through this someday.

Something that helped keep me sane over the last four and a half years was reading other people’s stories about love, loss, and grief. Regardless of the type of loss, grief is complicated. It tugs on your little heart when you least expect it, but in some weird way, it’s also manageable and even, at times, enlightening.

Alzheimer’s comes with a very particular type of anticipatory grief and ambiguous loss, but even stories about other types of loss have helped me feel less alone during and after my mom’s long goodbye. So I’ve compiled a list of books in case you’re interested. I think many of them are enjoyable reads (aside from one practical one that’s specific to Alzheimer’s), even if you’re not in the midst of it.

1. Goodbye, Vitamin by Rachel Khong
This deep yet funny novel is about a daughter moving home as her father’s memory slips away. I love that it’s formatted like a journal and reads more like a memoir. It captures that strange mix of absurdity and heartbreak that comes with watching a parent slowly disappear while you’re still trying to live your own life. Note: Thanks again for the rec, reader, and friend, Kadine!

2. All the Way to the River by
In this memoir, Liz Gilbert writes in a very raw, open way about caring for a loved one through illness and addiction; it’s not for everyone. I admire her devotion right to the end.

3. How to Lose Your Mother: A Daughter’s Memoir by Molly Jong-Fast
This witty, complicated, and somewhat unsentimental memoir explores what it’s like to lose your mother long before she’s gone. It made me feel less alone in some of the confusing grief of having a parent who is physically here but emotionally unreachable.

4. I’m Glad My Mom Died by Jennette McCurdy
While I am not glad my mom died, I found this one darkly funny and brutally honest. McCurdy writes about an enmeshed, controlling mother and the complicated relief that followed her death. It’s not about Alzheimer’s, but it highlights the messy truth that mother loss is rarely simple.

5. Being Mortal: Medicine and What Matters in the End by Atul Gawande
In this one, surgeon and writer Atul Gawande examines how modern medicine approaches aging and death, and what it often gets wrong. It made me think deeply about dignity, autonomy, and what “a good end” actually means.

6. The Year of Magical Thinking by Joan Didion
Didion’s account of losing her husband captures the irrational logic of early grief. It helped me understand how the mind tries to bargain with the unbearable.

7. The 36-Hour Day by Nancy L. Mace and Peter V. Rabins
This practical guidebook walks through the realities of caring for someone with dementia. It’s not poetic, but it’s useful when you need real answers.

8. In Love: A Memoir of Love and Loss by Amy Bloom
Bloom writes about her husband’s decision to pursue assisted dying (at Dignitas in Switzerland) after an Alzheimer’s diagnosis. It’s both courageous and devastating, but I think we should have the ability and freedom to choose what type of life is worth living.

9. Ten Thousand Joys & Ten Thousand Sorrows: A Couple’s Journey Through Alzheimer’s by Olivia Ames Hoblitzelle
This memoir follows a wife caring for her husband with Alzheimer’s while searching for meaning inside the chaos. It’s spiritual without being preachy, and reminds you that even in decline, there can still be moments of connection. In fact, an even deeper connection than before, in my experience!

10. Crying in H Mart by Michelle Zauner
Zauner’s memoir about losing her mother to cancer is as much about identity as it is about grief. It captures that longing to hold onto someone through food, memory, and culture, even after they’re gone.

Are there any books you’d add to this list? Please share in the comments! I’m always looking for recs. (I also just finished Wintering by , which I’ll likely write about separately!)

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See you soon,

Alexis

P.S. It would mean a lot to me if you hit the ♡ button below to help others find this post (and so I know you enjoyed it). Also, if you’re able to upgrade your subscription or share my work with a friend, I would be so grateful! Thank you so much.

(Note: I only include genuine personal, reader, and guest recommendations. If you buy something through the links I share, I may earn a very small commission. This is one way to help me keep Mera Magazine alive. And in the case of this post, it’s a great way to support independent book shops!)

Today, I am writing to you from an Airbnb in Luz, Portugal. I played a padel tournament this morning, with a group of retirees, and now I’m wrapped in a fuzzy blanket looking out at the Atlantic Ocean as I type this letter. K. and I are going for a spa circuit and massages in a few minutes. Life is good.

Before we get into this week’s things worth sharing, here’s a beautiful sunrise from last weekend…

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1. I just finished She Wanted More by and loved it! Immediately recommended it to a friend. I particularly appreciated Poorna’s honesty about sometimes questioning your purpose when you live outside of the conventional things like marriage and having kids... But also, the book covers all angles of womanhood for women in all walks of life.

2. I recently discovered these challenges from the NYT to spend 10 minutes looking at a piece of art. Relaxing! (If you can find it in yourself to focus long enough.)

3. If you’re into dark humor/comedy, please check out How To Get To Heaven From Belfast on Netflix and then let me know what you think! Here’s a nice write-up about it in The New Yorker.

4. I’m not a mom, but this caught my attention and includes some great book recs that I’ve added to my list. I think the idea of embracing mediocrity and being “good enough”, as discussed in the article, is universal, whether you’re a mom or not.

5. This article in The Atlantic titled “The Longevity Scam” had me at, “A better — and more achievable — goal would be to extend healthy longevity, adding life to years instead of years to life.” Agreed!

6. Ever since my mom was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s, I’ve wondered if I’ll be next. I’ve read various (inconclusive) studies about the impact of hormonal changes and menopause on women’s brain health, but nothing is clear. This episode of The Diary of a CEO digs deep into brain health, Alzheimer’s, and how it affects more women. I like that it explains how it’s not specifically due to the hormonal changes that come with menopause, but the symptoms of menopause that could eventually cause cognitive decline. For example, hot flashes and night sweats disrupt and fragment sleep in women, so we don’t get the rest we need to wash away Amyloid plaques in our brains. Anyway, I’m not a doctor or a scientist, so I’m not trying to give anyone advice; I just found the conversation interesting. The podcast episode also talks a lot about creatine and brain health, but I’m always a bit skeptical of these wellness trends and fads, especially when they say that EVERYONE should do it. We’re all so different. If you take creatine, please tell me more in the comments!

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7. I’ve been thinking a lot lately about legacy. Like, what (if anything) do I want to leave behind? It’s been swirling around in my head for a few weeks now. I think it might have something to do with processing the loss of my mom. Sometimes I wonder if this is what draws me to writing, and why I hope to eventually publish a book. It’s something that I can leave behind. Something that could hopefully touch at least one person. Anyway, I’m looking for books on the topic… fiction, non-fiction, just not too self-helpy, so if you have any recs, please share in the comments! (Of Women and Salt by Gabriela Garcia sounds like it could be a good one.)

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8. In case you missed it, earlier this week, I published a lovely interview with , the author of Help Me! and Love Me!. We discussed the downsides of self-help, dating, burnout, and the relief of realizing you’re enough. Give it a read here! ;)

Ok, over to you. What’s been on your mind this week? What’s worth sharing?

See you soon,

Alexis

P.S. It would mean a lot to me if you hit the ♡ button to help others find this post. Also, if you are able to upgrade your subscription or share my work with a friend, I would be so grateful! Thank you so much.

I’m fangirling a bit right now because I got to interview an author I admire. I discovered here on Substack and subsequently plowed through both of her books in the same week. She’s raw, honest, and funny — all qualities I appreciate in a writer and author (in humans in general!).

She thought, like many of us, that if you just read the books, heal your attachment style, fix your mindset, wake up earlier, try harder, and so on, you’re guaranteed to experience a transformation.

For a year, Marianne followed the instructions of the self-help industry to a T — from budgeting spreadsheets to confidence boot camps, stand-up comedy, and skydiving, all in pursuit of becoming “better.” The experiment became her bestselling memoir, Help Me!.

In her follow-up, Love Me!, she asks another question: what happens when we treat romantic love the same way we treat other projects, as another thing to optimize?

In this conversation, we talk about dating in the age of therapy-speak, burnout disguised as empowerment, the pressure to be healed before being loved, and realizing that we’re not actually broken, we just believe we are. We are good enough.

Enjoy!

After immersing yourself in extreme self-help for Help Me!, what belief about “fixing yourself” did you have to actively unlearn?

In many ways, I think it’s admirable to want to improve ourselves, to address our weaknesses, and to stretch ourselves to do better. But I look back now and see how much my self-help project was driven by a feeling of being broken, and that makes me sad. I was never broken, and I did not need to be fixed. I can also see more clearly now that I was the product of a world where women are constantly told they are not good enough, not thin enough, rich enough, pretty enough, kind enough, successful enough. Again, that makes me sad. I was always good enough, and so is anyone reading this. That said, I am also very proud of what I did, what I learned, and the book that resulted.

In Love Me!, you explore romantic love as a kind of self-help project. Do you think modern dating has become another form of personal optimization? If so, at what cost? Or, in other words, has modern dating culture turned love into something we have to earn through healing and self-optimization rather than mutual effort?

There is so much awareness now — of red flags, attachment styles, trauma responses — that sometimes we risk pathologising ourselves out of relationships or just fun. We can become so fluent in the language of therapy that we forget how to simply enjoy each other. It’s also easy to ascribe bad motives to someone who is, in fact, just a flawed human being — like us.

I don’t believe we have to have all our shit together in order to be loved. Love is not a prize for someone who has read all the books and done all the therapy, and I have read all the books and done all the therapy!! Ha!

At the same time, self-understanding matters. It really helps to know yourself well enough to explain yourself — where your weak points might be, where your crazy can show up, and also what you really need.

For example, I need a lot of space. I know that now. Instead of trying to override it — by overgiving or squeezing myself into someone else’s idea of what a girlfriend or friend should be, I can say it out loud. I can explain that I am someone who needs a lot of time alone, and it’s not because I don’t like the other person. Not at all. It saves a lot of hurt and confusion when I can just say this. But it took me until my forties to understand that this was a real need, and that I was allowed to voice it.

Yes, I couldn’t agree more! I am just now (at 40) feeling like I’ve finally figured out how to understand and clearly articulate my needs without losing my shit.

A little self-awareness, held lightly and with humour, goes a long way. So does finding people who genuinely want to hear what life feels like for you, and repaying them by wanting to hear what life feels like for them.

We are all flawed and worthy of love. Few of us were given great examples of how to do this. We’re taught equations and history, but not how to have difficult conversations, ask for what we want, or repair after conflict. These are essential skills. And I’m glad that we live in a time when we can now learn these skills. But it would help us to realise that we will always get things wrong, and that’s OK too.

Yes, a little self-compassion goes a long way. You spent a year reading self-help books that promise transformation. How do you now tell the difference between genuine growth and performative self-improvement?

There can be a lot of performative wisdom on social media — many of us aren’t living by the quotes we share online. I am certainly guilty of it. I think we know deep down when we are pretending. In my experience, real growth often happens at the times when I feel least together, when everything seems to be falling apart. That is when messy, real change is happening.

I often don’t see that growth at the time — I usually feel like I’m failing. It’s months later that I can see, wow, you have changed from that. You learned a lot. That said, the buzz of going for a walk or meditating regularly does not need to cause a big disruption. It can improve our lives in gentle ways. I have always been an all-or-nothing person. I would like to learn to go more gently, to do the small things that build a better life, to eat well, exercise, meditate, enjoy friends and nature, and sleep well.

I love how you frame it as going more gently. I think we have different seasons in life, and I’m entering the more gentle one, too. Or, at least trying.

Self-help often places the entire responsibility on the individual. Where do you think that narrative fails to account for trauma, luck, privilege, or timing?

Absolutely, it does. Some of us were brought up with great advantages that others never had. I grew up in a stable family, I went to private school, and I never once had to worry about being fed. I was never sexually or physically abused. I went to university. I had so many advantages that enabled me to do what I have done. Yes, I applied personal effort, but the reason I could make those efforts was because of all the support I already had. We are not all starting from the same place, and it feels cruel not to acknowledge that.

Was there a moment during your reporting where you realized self-help had become another pressure rather than a relief? What did that feel like in your body, not just your mind?

About 10 months in, I felt like I was having a breakdown. I felt like a computer crashing, my head was spinning, and my thoughts were loud and urgent. I felt the more I tried to improve myself, the more aware I was of all my flaws. The more perfect I tried to be, the worse I felt. I was putting myself under such extreme pressure to do new things, and I was not giving myself time to rest or integrate. I kept telling myself I wasn’t doing enough, even though I was (literally) jumping out of planes, doing stand-up comedy, and chatting up strangers! It was madness. I stopped sleeping and was also crying a lot. I now see that when I get into that urgent feeling that I’m not doing enough, I need to do less, not more.

That’s a great learning. I have that as well, where I spiral out and get obsessed with doing or achieving something. I’ve learned to tone it down as I get older, but it’s still a struggle that often keeps me up at night.

Both your books blend humor with vulnerability. Do you see humor as a defense mechanism, a truth-telling tool, or something else entirely?

I am Irish, and humour is a very important part of how we communicate. I am so glad for my humour. It allows me to take big, deep questions and to make them light enough for people to enjoy.

If someone read Help Me! or Love Me! and felt worse (i.e., more aware of their flaws or more behind), what would you want to say to them?

Both books can be confronting and uncomfortable to read, especially if you relate to my struggles. They can feel like a mirror. I have heard from several people who could not read the money chapter in Help Me! because it was too close to their situation, or those who read it and felt angry at me for being so irresponsible. I also have a friend who wants to shake me because she wishes I would just get on with things and stop analysing everything. All of those reactions are fair. I think anything that makes us think and reflect on ourselves has value, and both books try to do that.

How has writing honestly about your own messiness changed the way you now approach intimacy, both romantic and platonic?

I am a pretty open book, and I am very lucky to be surrounded by people who live in a similar way. I have been relieved and moved by how much people relate to my insecurities around love and sex. A friend from university emailed me to say it was like reading about herself. She is married and was the girl all the guys wanted at university. She was never single, while I was always single. I thought our lives were completely different, but they were not. No matter how things look on the outside, many of us have hang-ups around sex and self-worth. So I would say the way I write — very openly — has helped me to be very open with others in the real world, and for them to be open with me. I don’t imagine anyone feels like I will judge them because I have been so open with many of my flaws and struggles.

I agree so much with this! I haven’t written about sex, but I have shared other personal stories, and it has led to deeper conversations and connections with people I’ve known a long time, and with readers! It’s scary to be vulnerable, but more rewarding than I ever imagined.

Do you think the self-help industry benefits from keeping people in a constant state of “almost better”? Why or why not?

Yes, I do. That can even be part of the appeal. If we are almost there, we never have to fully engage in life as our flawed, gorgeous selves. It becomes a way of putting life off, which is less scary than showing up and really trying right now, as we are.

If you were to write a third book, what human experience do you think we’re still trying (and failing) to solve with advice instead of acceptance?

My next book will be about money. I think money and our ideas of success are fascinating. I believed I needed to be successful to be a worthwhile human. I became successful, but it never felt like I was. Then I burned out and got long Covid. I am now in debt, and I feel a lot of shame about that. But why? Why such shame? We live in a very expensive world that requires us to earn a lot just to stay alive. Animals do not have to pay to exist. We are also seeing how horrendously rich people can behave.

So, can self-worth be found through money and success?

I don’t think so… not for long at least. I keep thinking about the line by Henry David Thoreau, “I make myself rich by making my wants few.” I would like to embrace the idea that we do not need much to be happy. A roof, some food, and some love can be enough. I am trying to unlearn the other narrative that says I need the designer wardrobe and the big house. The people I know with big houses often seem very stressed by them.

We’re on the same page. I recently read an entry in The Daily Stoic that essentially said that the enemy of happiness is yearning for more, better, someday. I should tape it to my bathroom mirror because, as you said, we don’t need much to be happy.

Thank you for reading, and see you soon!

Alexis

P.S. Marianne has kindly agreed to answer your questions in the comments, so don’t be shy!

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P.P.S. To keep in touch with Marianne, subscribe to her Help Me! Newsletter, follow her on Instagram, and buy her books!

Welcome back to Things Worth Sharing, my monthly roundup series where I share things I’ve recently enjoyed and think you might like too. This month’s letter is brought to you by Elizabeth Cotton and is loaded with skincare recs from me and friends of Mera Magazine.

I’m not big on makeup, but I’m always on the lookout for great skincare products, especially as I get older (and my skin is suddenly much drier???). I treated myself to a facial for my 40th back in September, and after learning that I should incorporate a ceramide-based product to reduce dryness, I’ve been curious about what other women my age are using on their beautiful faces.

Aside from my latest new obsession — a facial brush that I use most mornings while my coffee is brewing — my skincare routine is a bit basic (NL friends, I bought the brush here; everyone else, you’re on your own… jk, found the same one here).

I can’t live without my CeraVe cleanser and moisturizer, and I use this exfoliant 1–2x a week, but after going down a rabbit hole, first to understand wtf ceramides are and then to find a natural, affordable option, I landed on 100% natural jojoba oil (my research tells me it’s ceramide-rich), which I now apply before my moisturizer (half a pump if I apply it during the day, an full pump at night). It has helped with dry skin and blemishes that I usually get around my period. I also use it on my hair and body. I’ve recommended it to everyone from my 10-year-old niece to my girlfriends to my 73-year-old father. NL friends, this one’s great. US friends, here’s the one I sent to my niece.

All this skincare research got me curious, so I asked my lovely friends (thanks, gals!) and a few 40+ women from The Old Girls Club (a women’s networking group I’m in) to share one skincare product they can’t live without. They gave so many great recs, so I thought I’d share them with you, too. (I’ve already tried #8 below, and I think I’ve finally found a sun cream that I don’t want to wash off immediately, and I’m eyeing #11.)

14+ can’t-live-without skincare recommendations from friends of Mera Magazine

1. I love this HaruHaru cleansing oil. It’s reasonably priced, gently removes my mascara, and leaves my skin feeling amazing. It has a light, clean scent that isn’t overpowering. —Janelle

2. The Augustinus Bader Rich Cream is 100% worth the hype (and price tag) — it’s one of the few products that my skin can tolerate after developing allergies to basically everything in my early 40s. It’s expensive, but it’s also helped me cut way down on the rest of my routine, so it kind of evens out. —Meghan from Fractional Fridays

3. I can’t live without this Dermatologica moisturizer. It’s just so smooth and luscious; I love how vibrant my skin feels when I use it. —Yasmin

4. This one, because it prevents sun damage and repairs existing damage with DNA repair enzymes. —Valerie from How Not to F*ck Up Your Face

5. This Aquaphor healing balm stick provides lasting hydration on the go- smear all over your face, and you’ll look fresher and dewier. —Liv

6. Huge fan of the La Roche Posay products- gentle cleanser especially. Doesn’t dry out my sensitive skin (rosacea). —Lorraine

7. I love this exfoliant. Also, if you have a blemish forming, you can rub some of it on the spot, and it will kill and stop it from growing larger. It’s like a miracle product. —Cristina

8. I have sensitive, acne-prone, combination skin, and love trying new products. However, since I discovered this sunscreen, I’ve been a loyal repeat customer. It’s lightweight, hydrating, and applies like a dream, leaving a beautiful finish on the skin. Somehow it also works for me year-round, no matter the weather or temperature. I also recommend this Bioderma makeup remover. —Jessica (aka Jazzy)

9. Prescription tretinoin & SPF every single day! —Lizzie

10. My skincare routine is a bit basic these days because of the rosacea I’ve been dealing with, but when I started using this product, it helped the dry, flaky texture issue I was experiencing on my cheeks, and I find I have noticeably less redness. I use 3 on my cheeks and 1 on my forehead, and I leave it for 20 mins. Leaves my skin nice and hydrated and calmed. —Emi

11. I love Sunday Riley Good Genes. It’s a lactic acid treatment that exfoliates and brightens your skin, but it’s very gentle and smells great. —Liz from Elizabeth Cotton

12. Retinol is a non-negational must have! Two products I’ve used and loved are Zo Skin Health Retinol Skin Brightener and African Botanics Cell Recovery Serum. —Rebecca

13. This 3-in-1 face cleanser from Vichy from their derm range has been a go-to for years. It works as a milk, toner, and eye makeup remover all at once. My sensitive skin enjoys how gentle it is, and I love that it leaves my face feeling fresh and hydrated without rinsing. It makes my mornings (and late late nights) so much easier by keeping my skincare routine simple and fast. —Erica

14. A couple of years ago, I switched to a collagen cleanser, toner, and vitamin C serum to roll back aging a bit. Right now, my go-to vitamin C serum is this one. —Regina

A few more things worth sharing…

If you need a comfy robe for your next self-care session, try this one from Elizabeth Cotton. I love that it’s 100% cotton, and the Liberty of London prints are so sophisticated. A great way to step up your Sofa Saturday game (at least, I think so). Note: Liz has kindly offered Mera Magazine readers 20% off with code ALEXIS20. Shop the full collection here. Thanks, Liz!

These baked banana oat bites turned out well! It’s a healthy take on banana bread.

I recently finished Half His Age by Jennette McCurdy after reading her memoir, I’m Glad My Mom Died. Both great! I wondered how much of her novel was real-life in disguise (or maybe sexual fantasies?). I recommend reading her memoir first.

See you soon,

Alexis

P.S. If you enjoyed this piece, let me know by tapping the ♡ button below and leaving a juicy comment.

I started drafting this letter as a list of 40 things I still don’t know at 40. I wanted to take a different approach and highlight that, even at 40, I still have no idea what I’m doing, but I didn’t get very far. It’s not because I have it all figured out (far from it!), but hindsight is everything. I realized that it’s hard to list off the things I still don’t know because, well, I still don’t know them!

So instead, I looked back at a list that I created when I turned 39, mentioning all the things I had learned up until then. It’s interesting to see how my mind worked even just 12–18 months ago (I’m almost 40.5 now 😅). I didn’t change anything below that still resonates, but added a few notes in bold and italic. I also added #40 to the end of the list. So, without further ado, welcome to my brain. Ha! I’m curious what’s relatable to you, regardless of your age, so feel free to join the comments section!

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1. What other people think or do doesn’t matter; do what makes you happy. But also, accept that you may never feel like you’ve found your life’s purpose, and that’s okay. Cliché — I know, I know.

2. The things you worry about are never the things that actually happen. Don’t worry so much!

3. Exercise is good for your mental health; the physical benefits are a bonus.

4. Work and climbing the career ladder are less important than you think. There are other ways to be “rich” in life, but don’t lose awareness that this is a privilege.

5. Living an unconventional lifestyle might come with some challenges (mainly from people who can’t comprehend it and your own self-doubt), but staying true to yourself is more important.

6. Caring for an aging parent (especially one with Alzheimer’s) is hard as fuck. Probably the hardest thing you’ll ever deal with. I can confirm that eventually losing them is the cherry on top.

7. Always put yourself first — take care of yourself. I still agree, but sometimes I do question my purpose outside of myself… I occasionally wonder if motherhood fills that space, even though I’m 100% positive that I don’t want kids. Like, what’s my legacy? Just thinking out loud here…

8. Getting divorced feels like the death of an idea, but it can also be the best thing that has ever happened to you. Yep!

9. Nothing (good or bad) lasts forever.

10. Living in another country benefits your mind, body, and soul.

11. Spending Saturday on the sofa is amazing, and you shouldn’t feel bad about it. Do it more often.

12. You’re more resilient than you think.

13. Disconnecting from people who make you feel like shit is okay (and necessary). This applies to everything, not just people.

14. Good things really do take time.

15. Slow down and pay attention.

16. People pleasing will just make you feel like shit. Stop doing it. Ugh, thanks for the reminder.

17. Taking time and space alone is okay.

18. Getting older is a blessing.

19. Exploring creative outlets and sharing them with the world can bring you joy, but remember, it’s more about the process than the results.

20. You can do whatever you want if you set your mind to it (like your recent desire to write a book) — go for it. Ha! Still working on this one. But writing here is a good start.

21. People will disappoint you. Get used to it. Amen.

22. Your parents did their best. Dad, I know you read all my letters. Love ya!

23. Corporate 9-to-5 life is not for everyone, and it takes a lot of courage to leave it behind.

24. Having a plan is good, but life usually takes over, so get used to it.

25. Solo travel is amazing and lonely in the best way possible.

26. More is not always better. It’s the enemy of happiness, which was brought to my attention while reading The Daily Stoic (February 17th entry).

27. Being vulnerable has more benefits than you thought.

28. Letting go is hard, but always being in control is exhausting.

29. Some friendships don’t make sense anymore, and that’s fine.

30. Long-term romantic relationships are hard as fuck. But the deeper friendship that develops is also really nice.

31. Dealing with obstacles by always moving forward is a good approach. But sometimes you need to stop and sit with it.

32. You don’t have to get married and have kids [insert more societal norms] just because everyone else does.

33. Stay curious and always be learning.

34. Pushing through the novelty of new things and sticking to them is where the magic happens. Yep. Still working on it!

35. Slow and steady (usually) wins the race.

36. Houseplants can change a space, and you know how to keep them alive. True. I love my plant babies! But I’m not sure how much this would have changed my life if I had become a plant mom earlier. Replace #36 with: Spending more time outdoors (like you did as a kid) improves your wellbeing, especially your sleep! I think I could write a whole post about the things I’m doing (slash trying) to get a better night’s rest in my 40s. Meantime, this piece about failing my mental load test is related. Shout-out to my gal pal Josephine for suggesting we spend the day wandering around Zuid-Kennemerland National Park. Look at this cute, shaggy highland cow!

37. Seeking out therapy when you feel you need it is a positive thing. Don’t feel bad about wanting or needing help. Also, developing a daily journaling habit can be a form of self-guided therapy.

38. Regretting things you’ve done is better than wondering “what if”. Still my favorite!

39. Do what makes you happy and fuck the rest. Okay, but let’s be realistic. Money doesn’t grow on trees, and this is almost the same as #1 above. Replace #39 with: Don’t make things harder than they need to be; “good enough” is just fine.

40. This quote about the grief of losing someone by Jamie Anderson is 100% true: “Grief, I’ve learned, is really just love. It’s all the love you want to give, but cannot. All that unspent love gathers up in the corners of your eyes, the lump in your throat, and in that hollow part of your chest. Grief is just love with no place to go.”

Thanks for reading, and see you soon.

Alexis

P.S. Regardless of your age, I’d love to know what you’d add to this list of things you’ve learned during your time on this planet!

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As I get older, being “rich” is no longer just a question of How do I make more money? It’s more about building a life that feels rich right now, and that can sustain me into the future. But I’m still working out exactly what that looks like…

I dream of early retirement, or at least I can’t imagine still doing what I’m doing now when I’m 50, but I also love working. What would I do with my time? I’ve been thinking a lot lately about part-time work. I don’t have kids to support, so why not do less freelance work and enjoy life more? Should we be normalizing part-time work in midlife? (I think so.)

It feels a bit frivolous to even say that, especially because I’m 40, which means I should be at or approaching my career peak, according to societal norms. But that point of view feels antiquated to me, or maybe it’s just that I’m currently (and happily) in a slower phase of life.

Anyway, my curiosity about this topic led me to , a money psychology specialist and the writer behind Money Feelings.

In today’s Q&A, Pauline shares her thoughtful take on financial independence, work-life balance, burnout, and the psychology behind how we plan for our future selves.

I hope you enjoy it!

Hello, hello! First, could you tell us who you are? How old are you, where do you live, what do you do? Are you single, living with a partner, married? Do you have kids? What’s your story? I don’t mean to be so direct, but this part is obviously important because it affects how you plan for the future.

Hi! I’m Pauline, I’m 42, I’m French, and I live in Amsterdam. I’m married to a wonderful Belgian man whom I met in Luxembourg and married in London. We have two boys (5 and 8) who were born in the Netherlands and mainly identify as Amsterdammers.

I’m a personal finance educator specialised in behavioral finance and money psychology. I write Money Feelings, the Substack newsletter on the psychology of money. I’m a member of Snowball, the French collective of personal finance newsletters, where I write (in French) the behavioral finance newsletter for investors, Snowball Thérapie. I also consult for companies in the personal finance and mental health space, helping their clients spend better, invest better, and feel better.

I studied law, and after getting my degree, my first job was researching legal frameworks for gambling, and more specifically, which frameworks minimize problem gambling the most. That was my first step into the world of money and money psychology. I was later hired as an editor specialised in financial education for an investment platform whose mission is to democratize investing. That’s where I discovered the topics that truly made me passionate about my work: financial health, financial psychology, women’s financial independence, sustainable investing, and, more generally, money as a tool for health and social change.

It also makes sense when you know that my dad worked in accounting and finance his whole life, and my mom is a therapist — classic apple-falling-right-between-the-two-trees kind of situation.

Interesting! My career has been quite different from my parents and step-parents, who worked in finance, law, and medicine. I think I know the answer to my next question, but when and how did you learn about money, saving, investing, and financial planning in general?

I learned a lot from my dad, who regularly talked about these things with me, even when I was a kid. I know I’m considerate about where my money goes thanks to him. He taught me how to use it as a tool for fun and pleasure, but also in a way that takes care of my future self.

I learned the more technical aspects of investing when I was hired as an editor for an investment platform. The learning curve was very steep, but incredibly rewarding and useful.

When you hear the phrase “early retirement,” what does it mean to you?

Early retirement for me means not relying on earning new income to live the life I want to lead, before my 60s. It’s also not something I’m actively pursuing, btw. I don’t feel the need to retire early. What matters much more to me is having a very healthy work/life balance while I’m still working.

What do you see as the biggest misconception about retiring early or stepping back from full-time work? In other words, what do you think we often get wrong when we talk about financial independence or “retiring early”?

Two things:

First, I often hear people tell me they can’t imagine not working anymore, that they enjoy working too much. But you can be “retired” or financially independent and still “work” in a way, contributing to society. The difference is that you no longer need the money. It opens up a really interesting conversation about our relationship with work. I completely understand the need to contribute, but do we really need financial compensation to feel that we contribute? How much of our sense of usefulness and self-esteem is tied to being paid? And one of my favorite questions: if income disappeared from the equation, what would we choose to work on?

Second, if people find the right balance for themselves and reach financial independence early, I think that’s wonderful. The one thing I’d be very careful about is making work the one and only focus of your life to get there. Again, I’m extremely careful about my work-life balance.

The last thing I want is to overwork now so I can retire early later. I want to enjoy my life at every stage — my husband and I are very much in our “parenting era” right now, so spending time with our kids is our absolute priority. Of course, I need to work, but I never want to overwork during these years (whether or not I plan to retire earlier down the line). I care about making the most of my life right now. For my husband and me, that means finding the right balance between working enough to sustain our lives and having as much time as possible to enjoy our family life. And it’s not like I see work time opposed to fun time. I LOVE my work. But I want my life to be “rich” and, for me, that means experiencing a lot of different things, trying new things, learning new things, and discovering new places. It means I’m forcing myself not to work all the time and make space for all these things.

I’d like to be “rich” in the same way… What life experiences have shaped how you think about money, work, and long-term planning?

I grew up in a financially secure environment. We never experienced scarcity, and when there were some money tensions, I know my parents didn’t overshare their anxiety with my brother and me. I’m very grateful for that. I was also able to see my parents enjoy their money while staying mindful of their future and their kids’ futures.

One belief and habit I’ve clearly adopted from them, and that my husband and I really share and cherish, is that time, health, and experiences are the most precious “things”. Through my work, my conversations with clients and readers, and my training with the Trauma of Money Institute, I’m very aware of how lucky I am to have had this experience growing up. A lot of what we call “good” money behaviors are just the result of a privileged starting point.

How realistic is “partial retirement” for you, and what would it look like in practice?

I’m currently far from a “partial retirement” situation, but I’m a solo entrepreneur, and one of my business goals each year is to slowly reduce my working time. Right now, I’m able to take many of my kids’ school holidays off to spend time with them, and I’m already really proud of that. Over the next few years, I’d like to drop something like half an hour to one hour of work a day every year.

I recently read On Writing by Stephen King, and he describes his work routine as working only in the mornings, which for him meant focused writing, and then walking, reading, or doing other things in the afternoon. That felt like a wonderful goal to work towards for me.

Great book. I’d love to reach that goal as well — we have a lot in common… In your opinion, what are we actually craving when we talk about leaving full-time work earlier?

I can’t speak for everyone, but for me, it’s a few things.

• More creativity, especially doing things with my hands. I LOVE CRAFTS! (Caps needed.)

• More disconnection, less screen time, whether it’s phone or computer. We talk a lot about problematic phone use, but I really wish I wasn’t on my computer screen so much either.

• More movement. I hate the idea of sitting in a chair so much. Sedentarity is killing us, and I just want to work less or differently so I can get back to what my body should be doing = Not sitting all the time! I’ve invested in a standing desk and a walking pad, but working less for me will definitely mean moving more.

  

I love crafts too! My friends and I try to organize a monthly craft night. Cheers to less screen time and more movement. Let me know once you’ve cracked the code on all that. Meantime, what small shifts do you think we can make in our 30s or 40s to have a meaningful impact on how flexible our lives can be by our 50s?

Connect with your 50-year-old self today! Like, really think about her/him.

As humans, we’re incredibly good at imagining the future, but something we almost never do is imagine ourselves in the future. And that’s why we often treat our future self worse than we treat our present self. Because we don’t really know this person, our brain treats her/him like a stranger and therefore with less empathy.

I loved reading Your Future Self by UCLA psychology professor Hal Hershfield. His research shows that connecting with your future self helps you take better care of it. Very concretely, people who feel more connected to their future self tend to have better eating habits and save more!

I talk about this a lot on Money Feelings, but for instance, you could ask yourself: what would an ideal day look like when you’re 50? How would you like to move? Who would you like to spend time with? Where would you like to go? Even picturing what you might look like in your 50s helps. All of this will give your brain a clearer image of the future you and help you treat her/him with more empathy and kindness!

I’d like to imagine that I’d be somewhere warm (with access to padel courts), working part-time from a beach chair, and sipping a cold beer — just throwing the idea out there into the world!

What emotional or psychological factors do you struggle with most when planning for retirement or financial independence?

I don’t really struggle with emotional or psychological factors around this anymore. Through my work, I develop exercises to help my readers work through things like fear of the future, procrastination, disconnection from their future selves, or difficulties delaying immediate gratification, and I apply those exercises to myself as well.

For instance, the vision board exercise focused on imagining my retirement years worked so well for me that whenever I think about that phase of my life, my brain immediately goes to the images I pictured and planned for myself. Thinking about retirement doesn’t bring me anxiety anymore; it brings up very concrete images of joy and (swimming) adventures, and it’s so motivating to actually do concrete things, like putting extra money into my pension pot when I can.

Do you think dreaming of early or partial retirement could be rooted in burnout versus a genuine desire for a different kind of life, in some cases?

100%. How can we work all the time, and for so long, in a society that still glorifies overwork, constant availability, and productivity at all costs, while we’re also now expected to reply instantly on WhatsApp, be constantly exposed to distressing news from all over the world, keep up with new trends on social media, deal with endless notifications, and still juggle family life, friendships, health, etc? It was so tiring writing this sentence.

Oof, yeah, I feel that. I love how easy it is to stay connected with family and friends, especially living abroad, but sometimes I want to throw my phone and laptop out the window…

What trade-offs do you consider making when imagining early or partial retirement?

The biggest trade-off for me is choosing time and flexibility over maximising income. That’s a conscious decision I’m comfortable with.

What’s one question that you think we should be asking ourselves about money and the future — but we usually aren’t?

What kind of life am I actually trying to create with this money?

I love that, mainly because sometimes it just feels like we’re “supposed” to follow a conventional path, but we’re not all aiming for or working toward the same things. On that note, what money topics do you wish more people would talk about?

The incredible feeling that financial well-being brings! We don’t talk enough about the joy of being financially healthy. I’m not talking about financial independence or being “rich”. I’m talking about feeling financially secure, like knowing that if something comes up, you’ll be able to deal with it, not feeling constant anxiety about your future self, and feeling calmer and more in control of your choices.

Also, money topics are always framed through fear and anxiety, and dealing with your finances is seen as such a burden. But we forget to say something really important! Handling your money actually feels GOOD. It’s not a choice between dopamine-inducing activities and the misery of managing your finances. Money management also brings a lot of dopamine, because you’ll feel proud, knowledgeable, and powerful! It’s also one of the most long-lasting acts of self-care you can give yourself. Your future self will still be benefiting from it years and decades later.

That’s a great way to frame it. What financial management and planning tools, platforms, communities, etc., do you use and recommend?

Money Feelings, obviously. :)

Otherwise, on Substack, I highly recommend Healthy Rich by and The Purse by . If you read in French, Snowball is the best personal finance media I know. And I’m not talking about the newsletter I write for them. I’m proud of my work, but I’ll let others comment on that. Snowball is a collective of newsletters, and the quality of the writers I work with is, honestly, incredible. I read in French, English, and more and more in Dutch, and it’s genuinely the best personal finance media I’ve encountered across languages.

If you really want to get to the root of your relationship with money, I also can’t recommend the Trauma of Money program enough. It’s a psychoeducational and certifying program for professionals, and I learned an enormous amount in the safest and kindest atmosphere surrounded by incredible people from all over the world.

Thanks so much for reading this Q&A on money and retirement (more interviews on this topic and others are coming soon). A big thank you to for answering all my questions!

Readers, here are a few prompts from Pauline’s interview to encourage further discussion in the comments section of this post. Would love to hear (or rather, read) your thoughts!

• If income disappeared from the equation, what would you choose to work on?

• What would an ideal day look like when you’re 50?

• What trade-offs do you consider making when imagining early or partial retirement?

Leave a comment

See you soon,

Alexis

💬 P.S. Have personal finance or money psychology questions for Pauline? She has kindly agreed to answer your questions in the comments, so ask away!

Since my last few letters have been on the heavier side, I thought I’d lighten the mood with some relationship humor from the archives. Hope you enjoy it, and Happy Valentine’s Day!

Don’t let this be another year where you forget Valentine’s Day and scramble for a last-minute gift. With the beloved Hallmark holiday approaching, now’s the perfect time to figure out how the fuck you’re going to wow the pants — or skirt — off your lucky lover. Even better, this guide will help you choose the perfect gift for your honey based on their love language.

Wait, what’s a love language? I thought you might ask!

Maybe you’ve been living under a rock, or you’re just a regular human who struggles to understand your own feelings, let alone someone else’s ideal way to give and receive love. Let me introduce you to Gary Chapman, the genius behind The 5 Love Languages. His book helps you understand how you love so you can (attempt to) explain it to your partner. The ultimate goal? Getting what you need from them — assuming they understand, which they probably won’t, because their love language is likely the polar opposite of yours.

Here’s the rundown on the five love languages — in my words (warning: I’m not a psychologist):

1. Acts of Service. You want someone to pick up your socks, cook your dinner, and basically parent you.

2. Receiving Gifts. Love equals expensive shit, obviously.

3. Quality Time. You demand undivided attention. Friends? Hobbies? Nope — your time now.

4. Words of Affirmation. “Tell me I’m amazing. Again. No, like again.”

5. Physical Touch. Hold my hand. Always. Even when I’m peeing.

The perfect V-Day gift ideas based on your honey’s love language

1. Acts of Service ideas

For him

This one’s a no-brainer — a BJ. But also, if your back is sore or you just don’t feel like it, do we ever? You could spend the day picking up the random pairs of socks he’s left under the bed, in the bathroom, between the sofa cushions, next to the microwave, washing them, and neatly tucking them into his drawer. It’s a win-win. You did something nice for him, and your home is organized.

For her

You could pick up all those random socks and put them in the washing bin. No, not on the floor next to it. In it! I repeat, in the bin. You know, that round canvas container or square plastic bin sitting next to the washing machine. You could also clean up the rest of the clutter around the house, offer your woman a massage, and then maybe she’ll feel relaxed enough to offer your favorite act of service, just saying. And again, win-win.

2. Receiving Gifts ideas

For him

Get him something truly unforgettable: a subscription box for fancy socks. That way, when he leaves them all over the house, at least every room will look stylish. Bonus points if they have little hearts on them — he’ll cringe but secretly love it.

Side note: I went down a rabbit hole and actually found a cute subscription sock company called Say it with a Sock (love that they donate socks to schools and the homeless). 🧦 Also, not a subscription box, but another charitable sock company with some nice designs is Sexy Socks.

For her

Jewelry? Meh. It’s overdone. Instead, try a “Wine and Whine Kit”: a fancy bottle of wine, a cozy blanket, and noise-canceling headphones. Nothing says “I love you” like supporting her peace, quiet, and ability to ignore whatever nonsense you’re up to in the other room.

3. Quality Time ideas

For him

What does your guy like to do? What are his hobbies? Make a list and then pretend to care about whatever he’s into — even if it’s PS5 and Dungeons & Dragons (or whatever it’s called). You don’t have to enjoy it, but acting as you do will make him feel warm and fuzzy inside.

For her

Curling up on the sofa for a 30-minute episode of whatever sappy series she’s watching isn’t enough. Quality time means at least 12 hours of Sofa Saturday. Queue up The Holiday, Notting Hill, You’ve Got Mail, and When Harry Met Sally. And if that doesn’t win her over, add Love Actually and Sleepless in Seattle to the list. With all the snuggling and unrealistic romance, it might even lead to a happy ending.

4. Words of Affirmation ideas

For him

Wake him up on Valentine’s Day with, “Honey, you’re the best dick I’ve ever had.” He won’t care if you’re lying.

For her

When you wake up together on Valentine’s Day morning, gaze into her eyes, place a hand on her cheek, and say, “You’re beautiful inside and out. I love you more each day.” Pro tip: Prepare for her to get the ick and ask if you hit your head on the nightstand.

5. Physical Touch ideas

For him

Oops, I confused acts of service with physical touch… but we’ve already made it this far, so there’s no turning back. See how long you can run your hands through your man’s hair before he gets fed up and tells you to knock it off, assuming he still has hair. But don’t stop there. Poke his “cute little butt” every time he walks by, and to top it off, hold his hand all day long. Seriously, all day. Make sure you do everything together on Valentine’s Day.

For her

Two words: Massage oil. But first, refer to point three above (quality time). When you’re done, follow up with a relaxing full-body massage. Start with her shoulders, work your way down, and make it all about her. No shortcuts. No expectations. Just her. Trust me, you’ll thank me for this one — eventually.

Wrap it up

Oops, I mean, wrapping up. Now you’ve got the cheat sheet for Valentine’s Day success. Just remember, it’s the thought that counts. So no matter how wrong your gift is, the fact that you remembered and tried to make your corn muffin feel special will mean everything. (But seriously, I hope you get laid. If not, there’s always next year!)

See you soon,

Alexis

P.S. If you enjoyed this piece, let me know by tapping the ♡ button below and leaving a juicy comment.

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Today I’m answering a reader’s question about dating after divorce. I’ve had this piece queued up for a while, but I have been hesitant to share it, as in answering Asia’s question, I’ve had to reflect on my own ways and my past, which isn’t always easy (but it is enlightening). So here goes nothing! Make sure you keep reading after my response because couples and sex therapist kindly answered a few questions on the topic.

Do you have any tips for getting back into dating after a longgggg post-divorce hiatus? I’m thinking about it, but haven’t acted on it yet.
— from

Truthfully, after I divorced, I didn’t wait very long to date. While I felt relieved that my marriage had ended, I also felt a bit lost and scared that somehow I’d end up alone, which, in hindsight, is silly. But I was 33, many of my friends were married, some were having (or had already had) kids, and I was starting over. It was scary!

Rather than sit with the discomfort, I revisited a past relationship. After quickly realizing that was a mistake (well, not a mistake per se, but a safe, comfortable choice that wasn't the right one), I created a Bumble profile just to see what was out there. But really, I think I did it to feel better about my situation and to feel like there would eventually be someone else out there for me.

There was one date that ended terribly, with the guy basically telling me it wasn’t worth it because I didn’t want to hook up. I reported his ass to Bumble immediately, and then closed my account. I think I was just unlucky, but after that, I tried to focus on living my life and doing what I enjoyed. I focused on hanging out with close friends and tried to change my mindset. If I were meant to meet someone, I would.

From that point on, I didn’t really think about whether I should or shouldn’t be dating. If I met someone organically and wanted to get to know them better, I was open to it. I’ve never actively chosen to be on a dating hiatus, so it’s hard for me to relate 100% to that part of your question, but I think it would be helpful to figure out why you’re only thinking about it and haven’t acted on it yet. Do you really want to date someone? Or, perhaps you think you should be dating?

There are loads of perks to being single, too, as I’m sure you know. When I met my now-partner about seven months after my marriage ended, I thought it was too soon. I had also just moved from New York City to Amsterdam, and I felt like I should be dating around before getting cozy with someone. We met through friends, and of course, it happened when I wasn’t really “looking”. After hesitating for a while, I realized that there’s no right or wrong time to start dating after divorce or to start a relationship, regardless of your situation (assuming you’re personally in a good place). If you’re enjoying your time with someone, it’s worth exploring.

That’s my two cents, but because I think your question is likely relatable to many, whether they’ve taken a break from dating after divorce or for other reasons, I consulted a professional as well. I asked couples and sex therapist a few related questions. Read on to find out what she said.

Dating after divorce Q&A with couples and sex therapist Kate Engler

How can you know if you’re ready to date after a divorce? What signs should you look for?

I think you will know when you are ready to date after a divorce when you feel ready. I don’t mean that to sound glib or in a “duh” kind of way. I just meant that it’s different for everyone, and I don’t know if there’s really a measure or readiness. Some people jump in immediately, and that works for them; some people wait years. Some start and quickly realize it’s too soon, and others wish they had started sooner. All of that said, some of the things you can be on the lookout for are:

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It’s quick to make and easy to store in the fridge for a grab-and-go snack, breakfast, or post-dinner treat, with just the right amount of sweetness and a dense, moist texture. Give it a try, and let me know what you think.

Leave a comment

Happy cooking and eating!

Alexis

The recipe: baked banana oat bites

Ingredients (serves 2–4)

• 2 extra ripe bananas

• 4 tbsp oats

• 2 medium–large eggs

• 3 heaping tbsp Greek yogurt (10% fat)

• 1 tbsp cinnamon

• 1 tbsp vanilla sugar or vanilla extract

• Optional: honey, for drizzling

Cooking instructions

1. Mash. Slice bananas into a bowl and mash, leaving a few small lumps.

2. Mix. Add oats, eggs, yogurt, cinnamon, and vanilla. Stir until blended.

3. Bake. Pour into an oven-safe dish (I used the 23x15x5 cm version of this oven dish from IKEA). Bake at 220°C / 425°F for 30–40 minutes, until a toothpick comes out clean.

4. Cool. Let it chill in the fridge for a few hours or overnight.

5. Serve. Slice into squares and enjoy as an on-the-go breakfast or snack. I don’t recommend rewarming this or eating it warm from the oven. I enjoyed it much more when it was cold! Drizzle with honey for a sweeter taste, or enjoy it with your preferred nut butter.

Quick tips

• Keep slices in an airtight container in the fridge for up to 4 days.

• Friendly reminder: use extra ripe bananas!

OK, ENJOY!

I share new recipes once a month or so to inspire you (and me) to experiment more in the kitchen, but I also publish personal essays, humor pieces, and writing on wellbeing, travel, and more. I have many interests. 😉 Thanks for reading!

P.S. If you know someone who might like this recipe, why not share it?

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I’m trying something a little different with this letter today. I’ve been thinking a lot lately about how while sometimes we resist getting older or sort of romanticize our younger days, there is also a lot of relief (at least for me) in getting older and having a different outlook and being more comfortable with who I am, knowing what I want, what I don’t want, and the general relief of it all. It’s something I didn’t necessarily expect when I looked into the future as a younger person (I’m sure anyone over 50 reading this is thinking, Oh, you just wait!).

I don’t know if it’s because I’ve been reading The Daily Stoic every morning for the last year+ or if I’m just becoming more philosophical in my old(er) age, but I thought I’d pose a question for all of us, answer it, then give you space to answer it in the comments, if you wish.

Today’s question: What part of getting older has been a relief, something you didn’t expect to enjoy as much as you do now?

The biggest relief of getting older is not caring nearly as much about things like pleasing everyone, looking a certain way, or following a particular path in life. I’m enjoying (excuse my French) giving fewer fucks, setting more boundaries, and the decreased urgency to do or be more. I’m more content with staying in the present moment, versus worrying about what’s next or what I should or could have done in the past.

I find being comfortable with a certain level of spontaneity freeing, especially as someone who once felt like I always needed a plan. I also never thought I’d enjoy getting in bed with a good book at 9 pm on a Saturday, but here we are.

I believe we have seasons in life. My 30s involved many changes (some good and some bad, but all informative and transformative). This included divorce, moving to Amsterdam, building a successful freelance business in another country, and dealing with my mom’s Alzheimer’s.

I can’t help but wonder what the season of my 40s will bring. Not to be cliché, but I sense an awakening or a new beginning. As you may have read in my last post, my mom recently passed away. It brought an end to her (and our families’) suffering. It feels strange to say that I’m motherless now. It’s a fact, but it’s something I’m still trying to wrap my head around. I’m grieving her, of course, and also my younger self. But it has been a long and bumpy road since her Alzheimer’s diagnosis, and the load of bricks I felt like I was carrying around feels like they’re slowly crumbling one by one. The experience has given me a new outlook on life and what’s truly important (it’s not about work and money; it’s about family, friends, and taking good care of yourself — mentally and physically). Once the clouds of this period in my life clear — I guess this period of grief and mourning, but also one of transformation and enlightenment — I’m excited to start living fully in this new season. And with that, I think comes an excitement about aging and embracing what’s next (it’s, of course, better than the alternative, which is something my mom always said). I’m enjoying this new season or phase in my life so far, where I don’t really know what to expect, but I know who I am and, generally, what I want. For me, that is the biggest relief about getting older.

Thanks for reading. This was a bit all over the place, but I thought it could be an interesting way to spark conversation. So, I hope you enjoyed it, and I look forward to hearing from you in the comments.

Take care,

Alexis

P.S. A few friends have asked about my daily journaling practice and what I write about. It really depends! But I thought it’d be fun to share some daily journaling prompts (so we can be philosophical together?). If that interests you, check out this post 👉 365 days of journaling.

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I’ve been a bit quiet here. My mom died 28 days ago — I started this draft on day 11, but it (and I) needed time. It feels weird not to mention this major life event before publishing the pieces I had already planned for this month. I don’t want to skip over it, of course. I’m still so in it that it feels impossible for me not to mention it here. I know she’d want me to carry on and do things that make me happy, which at the moment include creative writing (among other calm and relaxing things), so that’s what I’m doing.

I know I will eventually write something longer and more coherent about what I’ve just experienced, but for now, this is a great way to begin processing it. At some point, I’ll write about the 13 days that my brother and I waited patiently by her bedside, playing Gin Rummy, ordering takeout (pizza, Chinese, Thai, burgers, sushi), asking the hospice nurses question after question to make sure we understood everything and knew what to expect. Watching her breathe and then wondering over and over if she had just taken her last breath. Nope, just a case of apnea. Each night, when we left to get some rest, we thought it would be THE night. The night we’d get THE call notifying us of her passing. We even joked and made bets because, without a sense of humor, how do you keep on going? The call had to come eventually, but once she entered a morphine induced comatose state and stopped eating and drinking, we wondered how she was still going five days later, seven days later, 10 days later. One of the sweet hospice nurses gave her the nickname Amazing Amy.

Amazing Amy passed away on January 1st, 2026. My brother and I spent New Year’s Eve eating Asian takeaway at the round dining table in the kitchenette of our mom’s hospice house room, occasionally looking over at her across the room to see if she had taken her last breath. It was bizarre, but it was nice that we could experience it together. We left after dinner to get some rest, and roughly 90 minutes later, at 8:36 pm, my brother called me. It was THE call, so we hopped in our cars to meet at the hospice house, said our final goodbyes, and saw our mom off.

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Happy New Year’s Eve, and welcome back to Things Worth Sharing. In this month’s issue, I’m sharing my top reads of 2025 (in no particular order).

As usual, I want these catch-ups to feel like a group chat where we can all share and ask for specific recs, so I’d love for you to chime in via the comments with your favorite reads this year (if you’re reading this in your email, just open this post here to do that).

Here are the eight books I loved this year, with links to Goodreads so that you can add them to your list.

’s latest book, I’m Mostly Here to Enjoy Myself, is a celebration of living unconventionally in your 40s, unapologetically and without shame, which is relatable for me. Loved it!

The Hollow Places by T. Kingfisher is a book I picked up from a surprise pile at a local bookstore. It’s a mix between horror, fantasy, sci-fi, and dark comedy. Not my usual genre, but I found it to be a great escape. I couldn’t put it down. Read it within a day.

How to Lose Your Mother: A Daughter’s Memoir is a raw, honest, and relatable account of losing your mother to Alzheimer’s. The author, Molly Jong-Fast, added humor in all the right places, too.

Heart the Lover and Writers & Lovers by Lily King were both great! However, I preferred Writers & Lovers — it felt a bit more layered with the main character grieving her mom’s death, navigating love/romantic relationships, and becoming a writer (and a responsible adult?).

Being Mortal: Medicine and What Matters in the End is written by surgeon, writer, and public health researcher Atul Atmaram Gawande. It’s science-based (far from a light read, so if that’s what you’re looking for, skip right over this one), but it really makes you think about how you want to age and what aging well means to you, and at what point you’d want out.

Help Me! and Love Me! are two entertaining and candid non-fiction reads by . In Help Me!, Marianne documents her experience of trying one new self-help book a month (to see if it can really change her life), and Love Me! is a follow-up on finding love and realizing that maybe it has been there all along, just not in the traditional sense.

See you soon,

Alexis

P.S. Up next, I’ve got an interview about money and retirement with from , I’m answering a reader’s question about dating after divorce (+ insights on the topic from relationship and sex therapist, ), and much more… stay tuned!

Today I’m sharing a guest post from the archives by , the writer behind , a place where Edie writes about her mom’s Alzheimer's journey and all the fun stuff along the way.

As someone currently experiencing the ambiguous loss and anticipatory grief that come with losing my mom to the long goodbye, I’m grateful for people/writers like Edie who are open to sharing their experiences. While this time of year is cheerful and filled with joy and gifts for many, for others, it’s simply a reminder of everything that has changed.

It can be a reminder of the things and people we’ve lost, or even parts of our former selves that we’re grieving. I miss the carefree days of my 20s and even my early 30s, the time when I still felt like I had a mom in the traditional sense. An independent one that I didn’t have to worry about. I miss calling her up and chatting about random things. I miss receiving birthday cards from her — the ones that play an annoying tune when you flip them open. Now and then, I pull out the last birthday card I received from her in 2019 (she’s no longer capable of sending them). It doesn’t sing anymore, but I like to look at her handwriting on the envelope and in the card. I miss cutting down the Christmas tree and decorating it with her… There is so much more that I miss about her, but that’s a topic for another day.

Loss, grief, and change are all inevitable in life. Hopefully, with loads of bright, happy, and exciting moments folded in, but we can’t have one without the other. Like Edie, I find writing about loss (about anything, really) both cathartic and therapeutic. Regarding my mom, most of it just lives in my journals, except for two pieces I’ve published. One’s about realizing I was mothering myself through making brownies, and the other is about my experience of tricking her into assisted living after her diagnosis.

Anyway, this is quickly turning into my own essay… I hope this guest post from Edie is a reminder that — whatever it is — it’s ok to grieve. It’s going to be ok, and also, get that shit out of your head by writing it down (even if you burn it immediately after writing).

Guest post by

“Grief is just love with no place to go.” —Jamie Anderson

The concept of using writing to heal is nothing new. I know it works, but I’ve never thought about how it works for me. It’s a worthy exploration. Before I get into it, a huge thanks to Alexis for inviting me to her zone of the substacksphere to work it out. And, hello all!

Now, back to grief. I’m not sure I have ever consciously written “through” grief, partly because it’s hard to write about something while you are mired in the thick of it.

Trudging through the swamp

It was an entire year after my mom passed away until I could start writing about her struggle with Alzheimer’s. I wrote this piece, which ran in The New York Times on Mother’s Day, a year after her passing. The response inspired me to write the rest of the story (at least my version of it) about our family’s Alzheimer’s journey. By then, I had the emotional distance to go back into the swamp and start excavating the emotions buried there.

Once I started, I realized I’d been writing through my grief all along. I had been recording raw details, events, and feelings, along with their related pain, uncertainty, fear, anger, confusion, guilt, and so many other demons. I had no plan other than offloading them from my head to the page, which felt like a safer place for them to live.

However disjointed or unrelated those notes to myself seemed in the moment, they served as little vent holes that kept me from blowing up or breaking down. It’s similar to the “clean-as-you-go” method in cooking—a little discipline that helps you avoid a big, daunting mess at the end of the night. The act of writing itself becomes a continual process of processing.

A sneaky protracted grief

The clean-as-you-go approach is especially helpful for the grief that comes along with Alzheimer’s and dementia. One discarded title of my yet-to-be-if-ever-to-be-published book about Alzheimer’s was Losing Parents Fast and Slow. It refers to losing my dad suddenly to a heart attack, followed by the slow, amorphous, inexorable loss of my mother through Alzheimer’s.

By the time our family recognized we were losing her, she was already gone. There was no definitive “goodbye”; not even the atrociously unsatisfying one we said to my Dad when we decided to “stop care” in the ICU, then watched him drift away in minutes rather than the years it would take my mom. Alzheimer’s serves up a unique protracted grief, in which you are grieving a person and a relationship that is still there, but missing so much of its essential elements.

Writing along the way keeps you from shoving all those unidentifiable emotions under the rug. It helps you acknowledge the dirt and grit as it accumulates, and because writing is deliberate, it also gives you some degree of control over what you will do with that mess.

Writing your own story

I recently happened upon this episode in Estelle Erasmus’s podcast. In it, trauma-informed writing teacher Lisa Cooper Ellison talks about how (and why) to write on difficult topics. Something that really resonated with me was her explanation of how writing helps form your story. She says:

“You write because something is unintegrated inside of you. There is a question that is not yet answered, and there is a story that is not yet built around your experience. You might have a lot of feelings around it. You don’t know what it means.”

This reminded me of something else I’ve learned about grief: It’s often hard to recognize until you are on the other side of it.

In a way, my writing career started as a way to mourn the loss of my career and identity as an athlete. This was well before anyone articulated the transition from sport as a grievable issue. It was also long before the creative and emotional outlets of email, blogs, or social media.

I took notes throughout my skiing career, recording thoughts in journals—to vent and simply to preserve details and chronicle events. I wrote about the bluebird days and heady successes on snowcapped peaks, the raucous fondue nights and cute boys and smoky discos; and also about freezing in crappy hotels and crappy vans, being scared shitless in sketchy conditions, so many injuries, failing like it was my job, and always navigating the tight-wire of emotions with teammates and coaches under high pressure to perform. Writing about it was like watching a movie while living it. It was also a clean-as-you-go way of calling out complex relationships and emotions I had no capacity then to understand.

When I retired from sports, I felt an unnamed emptiness while facing the next phase of my life, the blank pages of my unwritten story. I was invited to write a piece about watching the sport from the outside. I looked back at my “movie,” the clips of sadness, joy, anger, regret, and longing I’d called out along the way, and found that humor, too, ran through them. That first cathartic piece eventually led to a career in writing.

Writing helped me work out the feelings that were, as Lisa Cooper Ellison would say, “unintegrated inside of me.” They were grief, for a life I could no longer imagine living, yet missed terribly. Revisiting my notes and journals helped me see that some things might not have gone as I wanted, but others had also gone spectacularly well. It brought back the tough stuff but also much more good stuff that I might have lost forever.

Cleaning to find meaning

Cleaning-as-you-go means recording little moments that resonate for unknown reasons, so you can chase down their meaning later. One time when my mom visited me, she saw a cardinal in a bush while we were waiting at the bus stop to pick up my kids. It was a bright red accent amidst a palette of November brown. Years later, upon any reference to my life in New Hampshire, she’d say, “I saw a red bird.” By then, she no longer remembered my kids’ names or even my name. “The cardinal?” I’d ask, and she’d light up as if she were seeing this prize again. “Yes!” she’d say triumphantly.

I never understood why this image stuck with her, but I wrote it down. When I had time and space to think about it, I wondered if retrieving that vivid memory and the name of the bird was a small victory for her. “The cardinal” was a proxy for all the indelible things in that moment, and now it is for me too. Seeing a cardinal, even on a piece of wrapping paper, reminds me of her visits, of her relationship with my kids, of their faces when they saw her getting off the school bus, and of the joy they brought each other.

Writing to grow

Writing expands your inner world by making it permeable. When people know you as “the writer,” they tend to bring you into their own stories. These invitations bring more connections, more perspective, and more ways to interpret your own feelings. Often, you realize whatever you’re going through is not that bad, or that it could be worse. That awareness helps, but can also be a stumbling block. I think about this a lot, feeling like my own grief isn’t big enough, worthy enough to share or highlight. I got to enjoy my mom in good health into her 70s. What about people with younger-onset Alzheimer’s? What about people who lost their parents much earlier in life? I got to experience the excitement of elite athletics on the world stage. How could I ever grieve an identity that few people are lucky enough to experience at all?

It’s a struggle to acknowledge grief when it feels little league. It’s also tempting, in clean-as-you-go, to just toss the ugly stuff you don’t understand or feel like dealing with, but when we excavate them, we uncover something important. Substacker Julia Turschen recently shared the message on a Post-It note that lives on her computer:

“Maybe it’s grief?”

It’s her reminder that whatever upset she’s feeling might have roots in grief. Grief is universal and unavoidable. It doesn’t have to be isolating as well.

Always a work in progress

I’ll never have a clean kitchen, and I will never have processed everything that needs processing. Just like in my fridge, there are surely things stacked up in corners that have become tenacious, maybe impossible to remove; but I know what’s in there, and I’ve kept a lot of it there for a reason. Like the stories we have inside us, someday it may make something delicious.

As a bonus, here is the full quote from Jamie Anderson.

“Grief, I’ve learned, is really just love. It’s all the love you want to give, but cannot. All that unspent love gathers up in the corners of your eyes, the lump in your throat, and in that hollow part of your chest. Grief is just love with no place to go.”

Thanks for reading!

See you soon,

Alexis

P.S. I recently found a few other essays and articles about grief, in case you feel like reading more, here they are:

• My Mother’s Memory Loss, and Mine

• The Holidays Can Be Brutal When You’re Grieving

• When Grief Takes You Out by

• My mom died & I didn’t write a newsletter for 2 months by

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It’s that time of year again, gift guides galore, coming at you via social media, email, website banners, and so on. I thought I’d try something a little different this year…

Rather than sending gifts, which, to be honest, I mainly just send to my niece and nephew, I had the idea to send handwritten notes. I recently received one from someone I had just met (just for the sake of it), and it was so nice. No one sends letters anymore. It’s just quick texts and funny memes or videos from Instagram. I’m not complaining, I do it too. But before we had all these channels and fast ways of communicating, we’d call up a friend or even send an email with more than five words — at least that’s what I did.

So I started digging around online, looking for blank greeting cards that I could fill with handwritten notes. Not mass-produced greeting cards, but ones from smaller companies and independent designers, or ones I could customize. I sent a Google Form to all my friends asking for their addresses. Then I realized that between my New York friends and all the new friends I’ve made here in Amsterdam (expat life is fun!) I have a lot of letters to write. Haha. Sending a handwritten note to everyone in December is unlikely, but that doesn’t mean I can’t send letters at random times or for people’s birthdays. So that’s my plan.

Anyhoo, in case you’re feeling inspired by this idea (not so novel, I know — let’s call it a reminder), there are loads of beautiful blank greeting cards available on Etsy.

My top pick is this seller who sends you a random selection of greeting cards that she creates from her original fine art photography. So creative!

Love the modern design of these handmade greeting cards.

Last weekend, while I was at the Our Lord in the Attic museum in Amsterdam (highly recommended!), I was reminded that museum gift shops are also a great place to pick up blank greeting cards for whenever you need them. I can’t find a link to the exact ones I purchased, but these Delft Blue cards are similar.

I stumbled across some cute letter-writing paper from Papier that you can personalize with your name or initials. If you’re feeling extra creative, you can design your own personal stationery at Vistaprint or spice up one of their templates.

I’m curious how all this will go over when I send a handwritten letter to my 10-year-old niece this year instead of a Christmas gift. My prediction is that she’ll remind me how “old” I am again — which, really, is not old at all.

See you soon,

Alexis

P.S. What’s your take on sending handwritten notes/letters instead of gifts? If you have a favorite greeting card/stationery company (that’s not Hallmark), please share in the comments of this post!

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Welcome to this month’s issue of Things Worth Sharing — a roundup of what I’ve been reading, eating, writing, watching, and listening to lately. I want these catch-ups to feel like a group chat where we can all share and ask for specific recs, so I’d love for you to chime in via the comments (just open this post here to do that).

1. If you’re scrambling for last-minute Thanksgiving recipes, this Ciabatta Stuffing with Chestnuts and Pancetta is SO GOOD (and a crowd pleaser). I’ll be serving it tomorrow during our cozy Friendsgiving. Also, I’m no expert, but this red wine is good, at least I think so!

2. I’m a sucker for romance and drama shows, which is why I finished Normal People on BBC iPlayer in about 48 hours. It’s a series based on Sally Rooney’s book by the same name, and it is STEAMY.

3. Earlier this month, my girlfriends and I had a craft night. We painted and chatted… very cozy! A common topic was sleep. Falling asleep, staying asleep, the quality of our sleep. One friend shared a podcast about why we’re all so tired all the time, which I found quite interesting. In particular, the part about using cognitive shuffling if you’re struggling to fall asleep. Essentially, you start with the letter A and run through the alphabet, naming things like animals, cities, or even people’s first names, until you doze off. They refer to it on the podcast as “thoughtless thoughts”. I also found the part about creating a bedtime routine important. Have a listen here:

4. The same friend shared with us her daily gratitude practice. She sends a text each night to a friend with five bullets of what she’s feeling grateful for that day. I love this idea as it’s twofold: you take a moment to appreciate things, and it’s a way to stay in touch with friends, especially if they live far away.

5. On the topic of sleep. Why We Sleep is a great read.

   

6. In case you’re looking for more book recs, I’ve recently read and enjoyed these: The School of Life: An Emotional Education (self-development), Heart the Lover (ficion), Being Mortal (medicine/science), and I’m currently breezing through Nora Ephron’s Heartburn (fiction) — you’d think a story about a woman finding out her husband is having an affair while she’s seven months pregnant would be heavy, but the comedic twist is a great reminder that laughter is the best medicine.

7. I’ll be spending most of December in Florida, visiting my mom and brother. There’s a cozy little apartment on top of an elderly woman’s garage that I’ve made my home away from home. I’m queuing up the classic movies… The Holiday, When Harry Met Sally, The Family Stone, A Christmas Story, and Home Alone are on my list for now. What should I add?

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8. Loved this piece by about learning how to sit with your discomfort instead of avoiding it.

9. These two stories are also great reads: Aging Out of Fucks: The Neuroscience of Why You Suddenly Can’t Pretend Anymore and The Anti-Cosmetic Surgery Essay Every Woman Should Read.

10. This month, I published three pieces ranging from my story about reinventing my life in Amsterdam after divorce, a 2-part issue featuring a sweet interview with my dad, plus the #1 most important thing I learned in my 30s, and for my fellow writers, I shared 3 simple tips to get your personal essays published. I’ve linked to them in case you missed something.

Your turn! Share away in the comments.

Fellow writers — feel free to share a link to one of your recent posts! I’d love to read it.

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See you soon,

Alexis

Tip 1: Study the titles of essays already published on the website you’re targeting to come up with a compelling title for your essay. Include your title in the subject line of the email submission. This subject: “My Husband Dumped Me on FaceTime”, is much more likely to stand out in a crowded inbox than “essay submission” or another generic subject line, and it follows the same structure and tone as existing stories on Another Jane Pratt Thing, where my essay was accepted and published.

Tip 2: Include a quick summary of what the essay is about/what it explores, and what types of readers it might resonate with and why, in the body of the email. Paste your draft below the summary (if that’s part of the submission guidelines). However, always follow submission guidelines in detail. Some publications don’t want you to include a summary of your piece; they just want you to copy and paste your draft, and some don’t want a draft; they want a short pitch.

Tip 3: Add your short bio to the end of the email, plus links to your full author bio and Substack publication so editors can get a sense of your work.

After acceptance, I received feedback from the editors on both of my essays, which I love, as it helps me become a better writer. I agreed with the feedback and implemented it, but don’t be afraid to disagree if something doesn’t feel right to you. It’s your story to tell.

Screenshots of my successful personal essay submissions

Bonus tip: I can, of course, not guarantee that these strategies will work for you; the story has to fit the publication, so it’s important to be intentional about where you submit your essays. I wouldn’t spray and pray. Instead, read existing essays and try to pick up on structural similarities as well as the themes of the stories being published. Does your story fit in? Is your story too similar to one that has already been published? Why are you the right person to tell this story?

Example 1: Another Jane Pratt Thing

The story that I submitted to Another Jane Pratt Thing (which I also published on my Substack here) was accepted on the same day that I submitted it.

SUBJECT: Pitch: “My Husband Dumped Me on FaceTime” for It Happened to Me

Example 2: HuffPost

I submitted my essay to HuffPost on a Monday, and it was accepted by Thursday.

SUBJECT: Submission: I Had To Trick My Mom Into Assisted Living—And I Still Feel The Guilt

Hope this was helpful!

See you soon,

Alexis

P.S. Here are tips (from the editors) for sending submissions to the NYT Modern Love column.

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• Part 1: An interview with my dad, which I conducted around my 40th birthday (in September) to find out how he feels about having a 40-year-old daughter.

• Part 2: Unfiltered thoughts on the #1 most important thing I learned in my 30s.

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An interview with my dad

I thought it’d be nice to hear my dad’s perspective on having a 40-year-old daughter, so I shared a written Q&A with him. After responding, he had the idea to ask me a similar set of questions. We’re quite open with each other and have a nice relationship, but still, this was a fun and enlightening experience. Now I’m brainstorming different ways to interrogate him. If you have any suggestions for future “Dad Q&As”, drop them in the comments of this post.

The questions I asked my dad

Alexis: What does it feel like to have a 40-year-old daughter?

Dad: A real pleasure and honor, interesting, sometimes challenging, but happy you picked me! I would not want to miss it.

A: How have I surprised you the most over the last 40 years?

D: First of all, I was very impressed when you resigned from a very good job to start your own leisure wear brand, and secondly, how you’ve flourished over the last 5+ years. You have an open mind with a variety of friends that obviously like you very much, plus you are very versatile — you work, write, paint, play padel, make jewelry, and much more. Thirdly, your move to the Netherlands and basically starting over. That takes guts.

A: Looking back, is there anything you would have done differently as a father of a daughter?

D: I tried hard to be there for you and your brother in terms of time and effort, but I think I still missed out on some things. I am not sure spending more time is the right answer, but I would have liked to do some more travel/experience-type things with you. Overall, I am happy with our father/daughter relationship, which I now consider a friendship.

A: What’s your funniest memory of me as a kid?

D: Coming home from a business trip and seeing that you had redecorated your room again, sometimes with a paint job. I thought you’d become an architect or interior decorator. Never realized my house was party central until the picture show at your high school graduation. You, at the age of 10, ordered a whole lobster when we were in Amagansett and ate it tip to tail (by yourself and with good table manners)!

A: I’m sure I wasn’t a walk in the park (at least not all the time). Was there ever a moment or situation where you questioned your decision to have kids?

D: Having kids is not always easy, especially with a busy career and travel, but I never questioned it. I loved having you at my house and doing things with you, from skating to dollhouse projects and driving you to your boyfriend.🙃It has been very special to me.

A: What advice do you have (that I probably won’t listen to), to make the most out of my 40s?

D: Time to take stock of where you are now and how you see your future and what you still want to do, see, and explore —THEN GO FOR IT! The world is your oyster, and fortunately, you are in a good spot.

The questions my dad asked me

Dad: What does it feel like to have a father in his 70s that you have known all your life?

Alexis: Have I known you all my life? Kidding! It feels nice to know that you’re always there for me, and if I think back on ALL the years we’ve had together so far, I have many fond memories of doing fun and creative things with you. Things like building the dollhouse you mentioned and gluing all the shingles (one by one) onto the roof, ice skating on the weekends, you coming to all my field hockey games in high school, you reading The Little Prince to me before tucking me into bed, going into the city and trying new restaurants, having beers together in Amsterdam, and so on. It’s nice to have a father who’s also like a friend, especially as I get older.

D: How have I surprised you over the last 40 years?

A: Honestly, I think you’re quite predictable… Maybe it’s because I know you so well, but I pretty much know how you’ll respond to different situations, what you might say, and how to push your buttons. Maybe that’s the most surprising part, that I’ve figured you out! (And that there are some things you don’t know.)

D: What is your funniest and fondest memory of me as a dad?

A: I have so many! Here are just a few:

• The time you dressed up as a sumo wrestler using white hotel towels when we were on vacation (I think in Portugal?). Wish I had a photo of this!

• The time you asked if you could dance on the bar at my 25th birthday party.

• Swimming in the pool or ocean together and singing “hold me, hold me, never let me go”, while I was clinging to your back. Lol.

• Poffertjes and Hagelslag for breakfast on the weekends.

D: Looking back, is there anything you would have done differently as a daughter, and do you now regret not doing something with your father?

A: Tough one! I think I would have been more open to some of your advice (mainly financial stuff) instead of resisting it. In the end, I listened to you, and I’m grateful for that, but I could have been less stubborn. We’ve had a lot of nice times together, and I know we will continue to do so. I have no regrets!

D: I am sure I was not always a “walk in the park” dad (at least not all the time). Did you ever consider trading me in for a different model?

A: I plead the fifth. (DAD: LMAO)

D: What advice do you have for me that you think I will listen to?

A: You’re never too old to try something new! GO FOR IT! Also, make time at least a few days a week to do some light exercise, preferably using some weights. I know you play tennis in the summer and walk a lot, but it’s also important to build muscle!

The #1 most important thing I learned in my 30s

I turned the big 40 in September, and I’m embracing midlife! After treating myself to a massage and facial, enjoying a lovely dinner at Roux in Amsterdam with my boyfriend, and walking into my living room (bra-less) on the Saturday night before my birthday to find my friends crouched in the corner to surprise me, I also found myself reflecting on my biggest learnings from my 30s.

I’ve experienced many changes in the last decade: marriage, divorce, shutting down one business and starting a freelance writing one, moving to a new country, and so much more. I thought I knew it all when I was 30, but in hindsight, I knew nothing (which was sort of a superpower I now miss!).

I’m sure I’ll feel the same about 40 when I reach 50, but for now, I must say, I’m enjoying this age. It’s nice to feel young yet secure in who you are. To know what you want and what you don’t, and to feel more confident saying no. Which brings me to my biggest lesson from my 30s…

Only do things because you truly want to, not because you think you should.

I know it’s not rocket science, and I’m not the first person to share this theory, but lately (although not always successfully), I have been applying this to EVERYTHING.

From small things, like saying no to coffee with a friend when I’d rather rot on the sofa, or telling clients I can’t add more meetings to my calendar, to the bigger stuff we feel pressured to do because of societal expectations. For example, getting married or having kids or becoming a director or VP at some big company, just because everyone else is doing it.

The fact that my boyfriend and I agree on not having kids helps, of course, but even so, I used to feel strange or guilty for not wanting what was expected. The question about kids comes up far less now, and I suspect it’s because people assume now that I’ve entered midlife, my eggs have shriveled and dried up (lol — not quite!). But it’s liberating! Letting go of all those conventional milestones has been freeing. Now I’m just trying not to get sucked into the anti-aging narrative and instead embracing my age (and the grey hairs as they trickle in), because as I’ve said before, aging is better than the alternative!

Before wrapping up, I just want to say: if the traditional path works for you, that’s wonderful. But realizing (and finally accepting) that it’s not for me has lifted so much pressure to “keep up.” I wish that same relief for everyone.

See you soon,

Alexis

P.S. If you enjoyed this issue of Mera Magazine, feel free to like, comment, and/or share it to help more readers find it, and so I know what’s resonating. ♡

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