I have professed, in this very space before, that I’m not much of a crier. It turns out that in all these years, I’ve just been stowing away a lifetime of tears for when I really needed them. I don’t think it’s much of an exaggeration to say that I’ve come close to crying more in the last few weeks than the entire rest of my life combined.
I’ve joked (but really, it’s not a joke) that 2026 is trying to kill me. Among other things so far this year there have been cancer scares, and fascists waiting to steal children outside my old elementary school, the flu and a week on the couch, injury and muscle relaxers for a twice thrown out back, cancelled trips, what feels like endless OBGYN appointments, and heartbreak of the greatest magnitude.
Joan Didion (one of the all timers) begins The White Album (one of the all timers) with the sentiment: ‘We tell ourselves stories in order to live.’ It’s a very famous quote. You’ve probably heard it before.
To that end, here is a story, in order to live, in order to keep living.
A note on the story:
Every word is true.
I would not recommend reading it at work.
I recommend viewing it in your browser here but you can also download the PDF.
With love,
Stacey
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