The Power of Little Words

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

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.

Flowering

Image Credit: Coin-Operated Press

I am pleased to share more publication news with you!

My personal essay, Flowering, has been included in the Gardening Zine produced by Coin-Operated Press. 

Here’s a snippet:

“Gardening is a part of who I am. The person who will always save the slices of avocado in a salad to eat after the rest of the salad, believing the best part has been saved for last. The person who will always describe a body lotion in terms of a “flavor” rather than a “scent.” The person who will yell at Rosemary Clooney’s Betty in White Christmas, urging her to talk to Bob, before she leaves Vermont for New York.
“I don’t know where my love of plants and flowers came from. Growing up, flowers were only in our house when my dad bought them for my mom on special occasions. Small houseplants died off, one-by-one, and were replaced with artificial flowers. Maybe this love I have for gardens is a result of the years I spent working in a high-end flower shop during my last year of high school and first few years of college. Or maybe there is no explaining it, and I can enjoy gardening without figuring out how it all started.” 

Click here to be re-directed to Coin-Operated Press where you can purchase a copy of the Zine.

Everyone But Myself

It is absolutely appropriate to judge a book by its cover, especially when it comes to Julie Chavez’s memoir, Everyone But Myself

Between the title and the illustration on the front cover, you have a strong sense of what this book is about. This memoir is another example of an author writing the specifics of her life, and in doing so, making it universally appealing to others who “get it.”

In her note to the reader, Ms. Chavez writes: 

“Although the details vary, I’m not alone in this story. Many women ask the same questions I did: How do I respond to all the asks of the world without losing my sense of self — my interests, my desires, my dreams — in the process? How do I remain whole so that, underneath all the repetitive and the annoying and the boring, I can revel in the privilege and miracle of a perfectly messy life?”

Many moms, and I think women in general, experience this struggle; the need to care for others around us while not caring for ourselves. 

These are just a few of the passages that resonated with me:

“Since those early newlywed days I’d discarded heaps of useless advice and ideas, and I’d also learned the difference between distance and space. Distance grew from the accumulation of tiny resentments, the swallowed frustrations that are an inevitable part of coexistence between two imperfect humans. Space, on the other hand, was a necessity, creating room for our deepest needs: respite, rest, recovery.”

“I believed that I would be most fulfilled by being indispensable, that I was loved because I was needed. Protecting space for ourselves may be an issue for those around us, those who are accustomed to our endless availability. But it’s an act of self-care, of self-love, to say, ‘No, this space — this time — belongs to me.’ ”

“It was quiet. I found momentary respite from my world, from its loss and need and upheaval. It was just me, there with myself, the part of me that exists outside of my disparate pieces and roles and obligations and imagined obligations.
I’m enough, I thought. And I’m okay.
One step forward.”

“ ‘You’re handling a lot right now,’ Kim said. ‘I’m not surprised you’re feeling sad.’
These basic affirmations from Kim were invaluable. It was reassuring to hear her observations that my plate was indeed full, that hard things were justifiably hard, that what I was feeling or experiencing was normal. I’d done years of unappreciated work, and the person who appreciated my efforts least had been me. Kim was training me to see this invisible load, to count it as valid and worthy of attention and accommodation. She reminded me that it was normal to have bad days and normal to be an emotional, feeling person in a fucked-up world. Feelings weren’t an early warning sign I was an unbalanced nut. I was merely responding to the ups and downs of life.”

“The changes I had made were small but impactful. I asked for help slightly more often, and I said no far more often. I embraced rest and put some items on my to-do list purely because they brought me joy.”

“Even though I’d occasionally painted them as insatiable leeches, the people who loved me wanted me to take time for myself. They wanted me to balance my needs with theirs, to be well and whole. I was allowed to hand off responsibilities to my husband, my kids, and others, and I was even allowed to phone it in if that’s what was best for my overall balance and wellness.”

“Therapy with Kim helped me rewrite some of the stories I had grown accustomed to telling myself. She taught me that worrying didn’t necessarily make the future brighter, but it did make the present darker.”

“I was learning to ask myself the question I’d ask someone I love: What do you need? And then whatever answer arrived — be still, exercise, meditate, lie on the couch with a book, text Kim some depressed-looking bitmojis and ask if she has appointments available — I did 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.

My Rebellious Body

“You would think I would have this figured out by now. Figured out how to be me — a wife, a mom, a writer who only became a writer because I had to retire from my teaching career because of my invisible disability. But I haven’t figured it out. There is no manual, no cheat sheet, no YouTube video to watch to give me the summary I need, the way my son watches a YouTube video to review the section of The Odyssey he read for his English class.
“I’m making it up as I go along. Engaged in a fight, trying to rebel against this body of mine that is different now. Will always be different.”

The lines above are just a snippet from my recently published essay, When Your Body Rebels With Chronic Illness. You can click here to read the essay in its entirety. (Note: this piece was originally written a couple of years ago. I must point out that my son is now 16 years old.)

There Is No Magic Wand

Image Credit: Yoocan Do Anything

Back in January, I wrote about my word for 2024: Share.

(If you missed it, you can click here to read the post.)

And so far, I have done quite a lot of sharing — here on this weekly blog, on Instagram where I mostly share about books and my writing-related life, and in the personal essays which have been published in anthologies and journals, both in print and online.

This week, I am pleased to share my personal essay, There is No Magic Wand, has been published by Yoocan Do Anything

Here is a snippet:

I would stop by CVS on my way home and pick up the prescriptions my doctor had called in. I felt confident these new pills would fix the problem because that’s what medication had always done up until that point in my life. 
“I could not have known that when it comes to a chronic illness, such as my autoimmune disease, there is no such thing as ‘fixing the problem.’ There was no pretend magic wand I could wave and make things all better, like I did with my then-three-year-old son when he bumped into a corner of the coffee table. No one could kiss my left calf and make the hurt be ‘all-gone,’ like a Mommy’s kisses often do for their little ones.”

Click here to read the essay in its entirety.

Yes, And

Last week was a time of big emotions. A lot happened in my world and with it came a lot of mixed feelings.

My mom celebrated her 79th birthday on the same day my son celebrated his 16th birthday.

A former kindergarten student, a child I taught during my first year of teaching, looked me up online, found my website, and reached out with an email that made me cry. She wrote, “I wanted to thank you for being a great teacher and setting a solid foundation for my education.” Did I mention she’s now a teacher?

We had a family outing to The Huntington Library, Art Museum, and Botanical Gardens. A place we hadn’t visited since March 2020, a week before the world shut down because of the coronavirus. Only this time we visited with me in my wheelchair.

Our former next door neighbor, now 89 years old, remembered my son’s sixteenth birthday and called to offer birthday wishes. 

So, it’s been a lot. 

Something I have learned, through the work with my therapist and my years living with my autoimmune disease, is that it’s possible to feel two very different emotions at the same time. In fact, when you live with chronic illness, it happens quite a lot. At least to me.

I am currently reading The Lives We Actually Have: 100 Blessings for Imperfect Days by Kate Bowler and Jessica Richie. I try to read one blessing a day, though, I admit I sometimes forget and miss a day (or two).

This week, I’d like to share a bit of Kate Bowler’s blessing, “For Stretching Your Heart,” which I think explains these mixed emotions so well:

Yes, I have so much to be thankful for,
and this hasn’t turned out like I thought it would.
Yes, I feel moments of joy,
and I have lost more than I could live without.
Yes, I want to make the most of today,
and my body keeps breaking.
Yes, I am hopeful, and this is daunting.
Yes, I am trying to be brave, and I feel so afraid.”

Because the truth is — yes, things could be worse, and things could be better.

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.

Booked On a Feeling

The last few weeks I have been so fortunate to share publication news with you. 

This week I am sharing a bit from my most recent read — Booked on a Feeling by Jayci Lee.

Booked on a Feeling is not just a delightful rom-com. It’s a delightful rom-com which also takes place in an independent bookshop. Our main character, Lizzy, is a book lover, with a special affinity for romance novels. 

“Then she wandered to the romance section to read the back covers of all the new releases. There were at least three that she was dying to read, but she promised herself not to buy any more books until she put a dent in her to-be-read pile. She didn’t have much time to read for fun, but when she did, she always turned to her favorite genre — romance. Sure, it was a nice escape, but it was more than that. Those stories healed something inside her and made her feel less alone.” 

“Her mind flitted back to the bookshelves in her condo, overflowing with romance novels. It all made so much sense. The deep human connection inherent in all romance novels was the antithesis to the life she was living. How was this the first time she’d made this connection? ‘And who doesn’t love happily ever afters?’ ”
“The cold bitter people with shriveled raisins for hearts who disparage romance for being formulaic. That’s who.” 
“ ‘Yeah. They suck.’ Lizzy’s response was immediate and heartfelt.”
“Shannon burst out laughing. ‘There’s no bond stronger than the one forged over bashing romance haters.’ ”

“Lizzy loved independent bookstores. Each one had a distinct personality, showcasing the hopes and dreams of their owners. A bookstore was never just a business. They had souls filled with love, passion, and vulnerability. It broke her heart to hear that Sparrow wasn’t thriving.”

Now I should point out that Booked On a Feeling isn’t entirely about independent bookstores and romance novels. But I loved that Ms. Lee included these passages — lovely tributes to bookstores and romance novels. 

Readers, if you enjoy romantic comedies, what is the most recent rom-com you read? Feel free to leave it in the comments.

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.

It Feels Like…

“In the beginning, it was easier to describe the pain. Because the pain was new. Because the pain was concentrated in my left calf. And, most importantly, because I truly believed the pain was temporary.”

The paragraph above is taken from my personal essay, “It Feels Like…” And I am so proud to share that my essay has been published in The Mersey Review, Issue 2. 

I have never had so many personal essays published one-after-the-other, like I have recently. (Five of my personal essays have been published between January 2024 and March 2024! My Published Work page has a complete listing.)

You can click here to access the entire issue.

And you can click here to be taken directly to my essay.

Also, be sure to read all the way to the bottom. After my bio, you’ll come to a statement that says: “You can read Wendy Kennar’s Few Words here.” Click on the link and you’ll be taken to another page which includes my answers to a few questions the editor asked me about the writing process. Plus, I answer that “eternal question” — hardback or paperback?

Dear Readers, feel free to share your preference in the comments: hardcover or paperback?

Mochas and Me

Photo credit: Shanti Arts, Still Point Arts Quarterly

My dear readers,

Something has happened that I don’t think has ever happened to me before. For the third consecutive week, I have publication news to share! (In case you missed it, you can read about week one here and last week’s news here.)

This week I’m proud to share my personal essay, “Mochas and Me,” has been included in the Spring 2024 issue of Still Point Arts Quarterly. The issue’s theme is “Coffee, Tea, Cocoa.” You can click here to access the entire issue online or click here to be taken directly to my essay. 

By the way, do you have a favorite coffee, tea, or cocoa beverage? Let me know in the comments!