This month in trying: July edition
Saddle butt, doom scrolls, and 1,000 reasons to feel hopeful
Welcome to This Month in Trying—an honest check-in on my attempts at optimism. Part journal and part reflection, this is your invitation to consider your own month of trying—whatever that looks like for you!
What I’m proud of
At the tail end of June, I reached 1,000 subscribers on Substack, and I beg you to indulge me as I revel in this! Like anything worth doing, believing in myself is hard. I’ve had a lot of doubts about putting my writing out there. I didn’t think my voice had value or that my work had merit. And though I admit to being proud of hitting such a nice round number, the figure itself isn’t the point.
The point is that, for almost a year, I have worked really hard at this.
For me, attempting optimism requires that I cling to a few simple tenets:
Good things can happen if I’m open to them.
When I give myself permission to try, other people will too.
That little voice in my head—the one that tells me I’m not good enough, not interesting enough, not anything enough—isn’t the real me. And it’s wrong, too.
Never before have I committed to writing weekly. Never have I consistently hit publish, all the while drowning out my fears. Quite frankly, it took a level of self-belief I wasn’t sure I possessed.
And that’s what I’m proud of.
So, thank you, reader and human who’s also trying their best! Every like, comment and connection is another vote for the power of optimism!
What I’m still attempting
Another new endeavour for me is working on building my bylines. I’ve been editing two essays that I plan to pitch to online magazines, and the imposter syndrome is kicking in.
I’m brand new to the submission process, and I find myself Googling all manner of things:
What is the least stupid font? (Times New Roman, apparently)
Will an editor hate me if I follow up with them? (Probably not)
How can I avoid sounding like an absolute nincompoop? (Still unsure)
Part of me feels embarrassed for not knowing this stuff already. But then I remember that no one is born knowing how to do any of this. You don’t come out of the womb with a fundamental understanding of the importance of double line spacing.
Even know-it-alls had to learn the ropes at some point. And they almost definitely looked like total nincompoops.
What I’ve learned this month
Wearing a large straw hat and an old summer dress, I ventured into the late afternoon heat to plant white roses, blue salvia and purple-pink butterfly bush into old, forgotten ceramic pots.
Discovering I’d misplaced my potting trowel, I scooped up soil with an old dish and gloved hands, my dogs watching in bewilderment. The time passed quickly. And when I checked my watch, it was almost time for my friend to arrive for dinner. I was dirt-streaked and sweat-soaked, but happy.
It had been so long since I’d spent some time digging in the dirt, and it was a reminder that sometimes, the simplest activities bring the most joy. Often, they’re hobbies we loved as children, then slowly forgot about as we aged.
So when, later in the month, a friend suggested we book a tour of the Hollywood sign on horseback, I jumped at the chance.
It had probably been 20 years since I’d last ridden, but the smell of the stables and the feel of the reins in my hands made my heart ache. As I rode, I thought of a horse I used to ride as a girl. I tried to remember his name but couldn’t, though I can easily conjure up memories of the white star on his forehead, his dark, pensive eyes, and his stubborn nature. I understood his temperament, so the stables always put us together.
Once, he bolted, taking me on a panic-inducing canter through the woods. But when his fun came to an end, he led me straight back to my riding group. He’d known where he was going all along.
I’m sad I can’t remember his name—sad that, at some point, I rode him for the last time and didn’t even know it. There’s so much weight in all that empty space. But despite everything I’ve forgotten, this month I remembered how it felt to be a girl on a horse.
It felt a lot like freedom.
The month in photos
Sunset Ranch in Beachwood Canyon
Frosty, my steed for the morning (and a very good boy).
The horses have their own Hollywood sign!
Our usual haunt: the dog park
Tacos at The Farmers Market
Classic LA blooms
Planting up some neglected pots (neglected by me, of course)
Flynn modelling in front of our new (old) wardrobe
My husband making pizza
Flynn and Suki update
Flynn and Suki agree on something this month: fireworks are awful. Not even drool-inducing sedatives could alleviate their terror. Next year, I plan to take the pups on a July 4th road trip somewhere very quiet. If you have suggestions for places in California where everyone hates fireworks, please let me know :)
Subscriber wisdom
Last week, I sent out a discussion thread which asked: Are we allowed to be happy right now?
I’ve been so inspired by the wisdom of our community that I wanted to share some of the comments here. Thanks so much to everyone who participated in the thread!
From
:…The world is a dumpster fire when you scroll through it; it’s full of pleasure and joy when you stroll through it. [I just made that up!!]
And joy is not a zero-sum game. Your experience of joy does not take joy from someone else. I think it increases the likelihood of further joy elsewhere.
From
:While feeling miserable and angry at the state of the world is completely appropriate, I believe we are also meant to live our lives to the best of our ability. What helps me is the Tibetan Buddhist practice of sharing the joy, so when you feel joy, you consciously say, “may others feel this joy too”.
From
:…I think all these thoughts and questions are legit. I also think we are allowed to try to be happy and seek joy, but that doesn’t mean we should be ignorant. Staying curious and educating ourselves about what and why is happening around us is important on so many levels. It broadens our perspective and helps us empathize with people whose lives are different from our own which leads to more tolerance, compassion, and solidarity.
Over to you:
What are you proud of this month?
What are you still attempting?
What have you learned or unlearned?
Oh, and don’t forget to tap the 🧡 button on your way out.
(Unhearted posts are at risk of being haunted.)
I LOVE this! All of it, and I'm so happy to be a part of July edition. Thank you Emma. Your newsletter is precious, and I mean it!!!
You've had a busy month! I love that you got back in the saddle and got dirty digging up dirt. So good for you. Thanks for sharing this length of your journey.