Author: Wendy Kennar

There’s A Lot On My Mind

Posted on by Wendy Kennar

I have a bit of a confession to make, my friends.

This week’s blog post has been a hard one for me to write. And I think it’s because of the date. 

This week is an “anniversary” for me. It was during this week back in 2010, when I woke up unable to get out of bed. I couldn’t stand up. I couldn’t walk. My left calf was swollen like an about-to-burst water balloon and bright red, like my then-two-year-old son’s stuffed Elmo doll.

That day marked both an end and a beginning. I just didn’t know it at the time.

So I’m a bit emotional, and I have all sorts of things going through my head this week. Thoughts about where I am currently — in terms of my physical pain and limitations, but also in terms of my spirit and emotional well-being. 

It’s because I have all these thoughts swirling around, like a soft serve ice cream that mixes chocolate and vanilla into one delicious, twisty dessert, that I initially wasn’t sure what I wanted to write about this week. 

But I think this reflection is fitting for this week:

A few days ago I finished listening to Jessica Fein’s podcast, “I Don’t Know How You Do It.” Her guest was bestselling author Jean Meltzer, someone I happen to just love — for her books and her passion and her message. 

(In case you’ve missed them, you’ll find links to my earlier Jean Meltzer-related posts here.)

On this podcast, Jean explained the twists and turns her life has taken, the many ways she has had to completely reinvent herself. 

There were a couple of things Jean said that I haven’t been able to stop thinking about. Maybe they’ll be helpful to you, too:

–  One: Jean talked about the years she spent ignoring her illness. Her determination to continue on, pretending as if she wasn’t ill. Until she couldn’t. Until she became so ill, she was housebound. In all honesty, I have heard Jean speak of this before, but this time I really heard her. And it scared me. Because one of the things I’m actively working on is truly acknowledging my own illness and physical limitations. I often do try to push through and act stoically. What if I’m headed on the same path? What if you only get a certain number of “passes” to act as if you aren’t chronically ill, and then your body comes to a full and complete stop? (Which is actually what happened to me back in 2010. I wasn’t physically ill at that time, but I was going through an incredibly hard time emotionally. I kept trying to push through, until I literally couldn’t. That swollen left calf kept me hospitalized for four days, and my leg was never again the same.)

– Two: Jean also spoke of her decision to live a joyful life. If her body would no longer allow her to do all she wanted, if her body made it necessary for her to re-invent herself and give up her career, then she was going to do everything she could to seek out joy in this new life of hers. Lately, I have been more aware that I tend to spend some of my days as if the prime objective is to cross off as many items on my to-do list as I can. And while these are not necessarily unpleasant (water the plants, sweep the patio, do my physical therapy stretches), they’re not necessarily joyful either. I often give myself one task to do after the other, without giving myself the time and grace to simply sit and read, for example. 

So that’s my self-appointed homework: being more honest about what my body can and cannot do and to actively seek out and infuse my days with joy. 

Thank you, friends, for reading. I realize this week’s post was a bit longer. Thank you for being with me on this journey. 

Working Towards That One Yes

Posted on by Wendy Kennar

Twenty years ago this month, I earned my first byline. 

And not just any byline, but a byline in the Los Angeles Times. 

It all felt so easy. I wrote a personal essay. I submitted it to the Times. They published it soon after. 

The publication happened not too long after I had taken a weekend course about writing the personal essay through the UCLA Extension Writers’ Program. 

That class was the first of many I would take in the Writers’ Program. I got incredibly lucky, because Barbara Abercrombie was the instructor for that class. (If you’ve read my blog for a while, you know I have written about Barbara and credit her with helping me find my way as a writer. You can click here to read the tribute post I wrote after learning of Barbara’s death.)

Since that first publication, I have learned that writing and publishing aren’t often that easy. In reality, I may have to submit a piece to several different websites and/or print journals, before it finds a home. Sometimes I don’t find a home for a particular essay, and I have to put it away for a bit and move on with writing something new.

Now twenty years later, I am having a whole new writing experience. While I continue to write for MomsLA.com, and write these weekly blog posts, and write personal essays to answer a variety of submission calls for both print and online publications, I am also querying literary agents. 

Querying requires a whole different type of focus and time commitment. After all, I am searching for the person who will not only be an advocate for my memoir, but also an advocate and supporter for my writing career. 

So far, I have queried 58 agents.

So far, I have received 15 rejections — which does not include those agents who state on their website something along the lines of, “If you haven’t heard from us in 10-12 weeks, consider it a pass.”

It’s just a part of the process. Because it really doesn’t matter how many no’s I receive. 

All it takes is one yes. 

P.T.

Posted on by Wendy Kennar
I call this my pedal machine. My physical therapist encouraged me to try it, since we usually start our sessions with me on an exercise bike. I started pedaling for 5 minutes each day, and have slowly increased my time. I'm now up to 10 minutes daily! Generally, I use the time to read.

I have lived with chronic illness and chronic pain for almost fourteen years. 

During this time, I have tried physical therapy. Many times. 

It never worked out for me. For instance:

–   One of my first attempts at physical therapy ended shortly after it started. The physical therapist told me he would no longer work with me, because, “There’s no point. Nothing we do can help you.”


–  Another therapist, in a different location, always made me feel as if I couldn’t do much, and what I could do wasn’t anywhere close to being enough. I left our sessions feeling worse than I started. Worse in terms of higher pain levels and worse in terms of self-confidence.

–  There was the physical therapy group with a close-to-my-home location. I quit that one, after having four appointments with three different therapists, each one giving me some contradictory information.

Based on my previous experiences, you can understand my hesitation when my rheumatologist didn’t just suggest physical therapy, he strongly encouraged it.

This time I’m pleased to say my physical-therapy-is-not-beneficial streak is now over. 

I finally am working with a physical therapist who speaks kindly and smiles. A physical therapist who celebrates my effort, who acknowledges just how hard some stretches are for me, who encourages me to try, who modifies as needed. 

Plus, during last week’s physical therapy session, my therapist did something no other therapist has done before — he made me laugh.

Now, most people know PT is shorthand for Physical Therapy. 

But there’s another meaning for that acronym. 

Let me give you a bit of context — my therapist had demonstrated a new stretch, something that would work my quadriceps. It hurt when I tried it, so we modified it, with me not stretching quite as hard or quite as much. 

That’s when my physical therapist told me one of his patients invented a different meaning for PT: Pleasant Torture.

It was so unexpected, I couldn’t help but laugh out loud.

I have never thought of PT like that before. 

While it’s not torture, physical therapy is hard work. Each time I leave, I am tired and worn out. The following day I’m usually sore. 

Yet even with all of that, overall, the process, this time, is pleasant.

Readers, do you have any physical therapy experiences you want to share? Have you been fortunate to work with someone who makes the process pleasant? I hope so!

Crying in H Mart

Posted on by Wendy Kennar

I picked up my copy of Crying in H Mart from a Little Free Library in my neighborhood. I had heard of the book, I knew it was a best seller, and I knew the author was a musician. But I didn’t know much more than that. 

Yet I wanted to read Crying in H Mart by Michelle Zauner for two reasons:

1. As a reader, I believe everyone has a story worth sharing.

2. As a writer, I’m always curious to see how other writers structure their memoirs. 

Here’s what you should know about me:

I am not an adventurous eater. I have a pretty sensitive stomach so most, if not all, the food mentioned in this memoir was unfamiliar to me. 

And here’s what you should know about the book:

It’s beautiful. Quite simply it is a tender love letter from a daughter in honor of her mother. 

Here are just a few of my favorite passages:

“Ever since my mom died, I cry in H Mart.”

“Food was how my mother expressed her love. No matter how critical or cruel she could seem — constantly pushing me to meet her intractable expectations — I could always feel her affection radiating from the lunches she packed and the meals she prepared for me just the way I liked them. I can hardly speak Korean, but in H Mart it feels like I’m fluent.”

“I remember these things clearly because that was how my mother loved you, not through white lies and constant verbal affirmation, but in subtle observations of what brought you joy, pocketed away to make you feel comforted and cared for without even realizing it.”

“The cowboy boots arrived in one of these packages after my parents had vacationed in Mexico. When I slipped them on I discovered they’d already been broken in. My mother had worn them around the house for a week, smoothing the hard edges in two pairs of socks for an hour every day, molding the flat sole with the bottom of her feet, wearing in the stiffness, breaking the tough leather to spare me all discomfort.”

“I wondered if I should try to explain how important it was to me. That cooking my mother’s food had come to represent an absolute role reversal, a role I was meant to fill. That food was an unspoken language between us, that it had come to symbolize our return to each other, our bonding, our common ground.”

“I talked about how love was an action, an instinct, a response roused by unplanned moments and small gestures, an inconvenience in someone else’s favor.”

“She was my champion, she was my archive. She had taken the utmost care to preserve the evidence of my existence and growth, capturing me in images, saving all my documents and possessions. She had all knowledge of my being memorized. The time I was born, my unborn cravings, the first book I read. The formation of every characteristic. Every ailment and little victory. She observed me with unparalleled interest, inexhaustible devotion.”

“The culture we shared was active, effervescent in my gut and in my genes, and I had to seize it, foster it so it did not die in me. So that I could pass it on someday. The lessons she imparted, the proof of her life lived on in me, in my every move and deed. I was what she left behind. If I could not be with my mother, I would be her.”

Readers, have you read Crying in H Mart? What did you think of it?

Please note: I am including a link to buy the book that I’m highlighting this week. If you use my link, I do make a small commission on your purchase at no additional cost to you. I am working with Bookshop.org which also sends a portion of the profit to support local, independent bookstores.

The Case for Loving

Posted on by Wendy Kennar

Today, June 12th, is Loving Day. 

“Loving Day is the anniversary of a historic court decision for interracial marriage. Every year on June 12th, it’s a global day of visibility, education, and community.” (Taken from lovingday.org)

I’ve written about Loving Day before, because of its direct impact on my family — my African American husband and our mixed-race son. (You can click here to read a post I wrote in 2020.)  

And I continue to write about Loving Day because it’s so very important to remember that the rights and laws we currently have weren’t always our rights and laws. And, as we’ve seen, laws can be changed; revoked even. So I don’t take Loving Day for granted. 

This year, I wanted to highlight a wonderful children’s book — The Case for Loving: The Fight for Interracial Marriage by Selina Alko, illustrated by Sean Qualls and Selina Alko. (Fun fact — the author and illustrator are themselves an interracial couple.)

The charming book tells the story of Richard and Mildred Loving — how they fell in love, how they married (in Washington, D.C.), how they were arrested for living together in Virginia (where interracial marriage was not legal), how they wanted to leave their home in Washington, D.C. and legally live in Virginia with their three children, and how their court case made it all the way to the United States Supreme Court. 

And, what it all boiled down to was expressed in this brief, heartfelt message from Richard Loving which was read to the Supreme Court justices: “Tell the Court I love my wife, and it is just unfair that I can’t live with her in Virginia.” 

On June 12, 1967, the Supreme Court ruled unanimously in favor of the Lovings and interracial marriage. 

1967. 

Only 57 years ago.

Please note: I am including a link to buy the book that I’m highlighting this week. If you use my link, I do make a small commission on your purchase at no additional cost to you. I am working with Bookshop.org which also sends a portion of the profit to support local, independent bookstores.

Book Birthday: The Things We Don’t Say

Posted on by Wendy Kennar

The Things We Don’t Say: An Anthology of Chronic Illness Truths is celebrating its four-year book birthday this month.

This anthology is unlike any other book I have found — and I’m not just saying that because one of my personal essays is included in this collection. (My essay is called “Chronic Contradictions.”)

I’m saying that because it’s true. 

From the back of the book:

“Spanning different ages, ethnicities, genders, sexual orientations, and diagnoses, forty-two authors from around the world open up in fifty true stories about their chronic illnesses and their search for answers, poor treatment by doctors, strained relationships with loved ones, self-doubt, and more.” 

This is the book to turn to when you’re searching for connection. Because though the medical details may vary, many of the emotions and experiences written about are shared by many in the chronic illness world.

This is the book to turn to when you’re trying to help someone else learn a bit about what your chronic illness life is like. This is the book you hand to someone and say, “Here. Please read this story. This is what I mean. This is what it feels like for me. This is what I have been trying to explain to you.”

Readers, have you discovered any other chronic illness-related books that you find helpful and/or resonate with you? Please share! 



Please note: I am including a link to buy the book that I’m highlighting this week. If you use my link, I do make a small commission on your purchase at no additional cost to you. I am working with Bookshop.org which also sends a portion of the profit to support local, independent bookstores.

Happy Place

Posted on by Wendy Kennar

Last week I finished reading Emily Henry’s Happy Place. If you’re an Emily Henry fan, then you know Happy Place was last year’s book. (Emily Henry’s newest novel is called Funny Story.)

Generally, I don’t read books immediately upon publication. I like to read books on my own timetable, and enjoy (or not) a book without feeling like I was influenced by any of the surrounding buzz.

Emily Henry’s Happy Place was a delightful read. Like all fine novels, it did allow me to temporarily escape my life and spend some time with other people in other places dealing with other things.

Which is one of the reasons I read. I read to take a break and get away from my life and learn about someone else’s life. And lately, my life has been — challenging. 

I hesitate to write that word, challenging. I do not want to come across as a whiny, complaining, ungrateful woman. Because I know I am very lucky. I know I have many blessings in my life. I am grateful — every minute of every day. 

But the truth is, I can be fortunate and still struggling at the same time.  

And while I won’t go into the struggles in this post, I will share one of my favorite passages from Happy Place:

“ ‘What if I’m bad at it?’ I ask. ‘Being a parent.’
He sweeps my hair back from my neck. ‘You won’t be.’
‘You don’t know that,’ I say.
‘I do,’ he says.
‘How?’ I say.
‘Because you’re good at loving,’ he says. ‘And that’s all you have to do.’ ”

Readers, have you read any of Emily Henry’s novels? Do you have a favorite? So far, my favorite is Book Lovers, which I wrote about in this post from November 2022. 

Please note: I am including a link to buy the book that I’m highlighting this week. If you use my link, I do make a small commission on your purchase at no additional cost to you. I am working with Bookshop.org which also sends a portion of the profit to support local, independent bookstores.

Stick-To-It-Ness

Posted on by Wendy Kennar
Image credit: Wishbone Words

“I am no longer an educator, and haven’t been a kindergarten teacher in many years. For the last seven years of my career I taught fourth and fifth graders. I no longer think of perseverance in quite the same way as I once did. However, more than ever, I feel like my daily life requires a lot of perseverance. I’m not relying on perseverance because I’m learning a new skill or am faced with one specific event that requires more ‘stick-to-it-ness.’ It is not at all like the period of time when my eighteen-year-old self was learning to drive a stick shift — without popping the clutch or grinding the gears or stalling and having the line of cars behind me start honking when I didn’t immediately get going on a green light. Back then, each practice session ended with me in tears. I remember looking over at my mom in the passenger seat, telling her it was hopeless and we should just stop now, because I would never master driving a stick shift. I was convinced there was something fundamentally wrong with me, since my parents could drive a manual transmission, and I obviously couldn’t. My mom patiently reminded me that driving a stick shift wasn’t easy, and I would definitely learn how, if I kept at it. It was a skill which required time and patience and lots of practice. Perseverance. She was right, as moms tend to be. 
“But that was then.”

This excerpt was taken from my recently published personal essay, Stick-To-It-Ness, which has to do with daily perseverance as it pertains to living with a chronic illness. However, a high level of stick-to-it-ness is also required when you’re writing for publication. This personal essay was rejected by two other online literary journals before finding a home at Wishbone Words, Issue 13. 

You can click here to find out more information about Wishbone Words. 

The Power of Little Words

Posted on by Wendy Kennar

For my birthday (a couple of months ago), one of my closest friends gave me four bracelets. 

Not just any bracelets. 

Bracelets from Little Words Project. 

I didn’t initially realize the connection between Taylor Swift, Swifties, and friendship bracelets. So while my right wrist may look like I’m part of a trend, that’s not the reason for my bracelets.

My friend knew things have been hard for me lately. Actually, things have been hard for a while now. She also knew I’m quick to offer encouragement and words of praise to others, less quick to show myself the same support.  

That’s where the bracelets come into play. They are a daily reminder — of who I am and how I choose to live my life.

J chose four words for me. 

Teacher. I taught for twelve years. I’ve been retired for eleven years now. And I still miss teaching. (A portion of the proceeds from this bracelet go to AdoptAClassroom.org)

Breathe. Because sometimes I need that reminder to slow down and take a deep breath. 

Resilience. When you’re saddled with a chronic illness, there isn’t much choice. You have to demonstrate a combination of toughness, adaptability, and strength. 

And my favorite word — Badass. 

“I know it’s not usually a word you use, but you are a badass,” she said.

She’s right — I wouldn’t ordinarily think to describe myself as a badass. I am generally inclined to think of myself in other terms — such as polite, punctual, organized, neat. If you’ve been reading my blog for a while, you may remember a post I wrote last year about  how difficult it was for me to think of three adjectives to describe myself. (In case you missed it or have forgotten it, you can click here to read the post.)

But it means so much to me that J sees me in this way. She not only sees my spirit, she celebrates my spirit. And she wants me to do the same. 

Which is why you’ll find me wearing these four bracelets each day on my right wrist.

Readers, do any of you wear friendship bracelets? What words are on your bracelets? Or, if you don’t wear them, take a look at the Little Words Project website. What words would you choose for yourself?

Chronically Parenting

Posted on by Wendy Kennar

I don’t listen to many podcasts, but I do make a point to listen to Jean Meltzer’s monthly podcast, Chronically Fabulous. (I wrote about her podcast back in January. If you missed that blog post, you can read it here.)

Her third episode featured special guest, Heidi Shertok. Like Jean, Heidi is also a Jewish author, writing rom-coms, and living with chronic illness. Their conversation focused on parenting when you’re chronically ill. 

Jean, Heidi, and I all have different perspectives based on our different life experiences when it comes to parenting. Jean and her husband made the decision not to have children. Heidi entered into marriage and parenthood as a chronically ill woman. And I become ill when my son was two years old. 

There were several moments when I paused the podcast so I could jot down a note, because I knew I would want to write about their conversation and share it with you, readers. Because finding your community is so important, especially when your body doesn’t behave the way you’d like it to. And when I come across something — a podcast, a book, a line in an article — that allows me to feel seen and understood, it’s something I want to share with you as well. 

With that in mind, here are just a few of the highlights from their podcast conversation: 

– Jean and Heidi spoke of the idea of “masking.” I’ve always referred to it as putting on my game face, others might say it’s like having your poker face on and not letting your true emotions out. It’s the idea that on the surface no one can tell how you’re really feeling inside. You keep your pain, your discomfort, your worry out of sight. You present as healthy — because, at least for me, sometimes it’s just easier. It’s easier not to have to explain why I can’t sit on a tall bar stool, for example. (It’s really painful for me.)

– Something Heidi said really stood out to me. She said she believed her kids were lucky, growing up with a mom who is chronically ill. Her kids have learned/are learning there are all sorts of “normals” within families. There is not one right way for a family to be. Likewise, I hope that by growing up with a mom who has an invisible disability, my son has learned that you often can’t tell what someone is going through just by looking at them; that many people are out and about in the world, dealing with pain we can’t see. 

– Heidi also shared something her rheumatologist told her when she was young: A lot of people are like most flowers, you can put them anywhere and they’ll thrive. While people like Jean, Heidi, and myself, and others with chronic illness, are like orchids; we can only thrive in very specific environments. I love that analogy. 

Dear readers, any podcast recommendations you’d like to share? I also sometimes listen to The Shit No One Tells You About Writing (such a great title!) or an episode of Moms Don’t Have Time to Read Books when I’m doing my daily physical therapy exercises/stretches at home.