2025: let's get weird!

glory to God, why not?

one man’s normal is another woman’s weird

This is my third attempt at writing this ‘stack. I’m probably just letting it get to my head. The first article of the year: make it pithy, make it memorable, make it useful. Or, in true Emily fashion, burn it all down and shoot from the hip.

Enter hip, stage right.

Here’s the deal y’all, this year I will turn 40. I gotta shake things up. I have heard that if you want to make God laugh, you should tell Him your plans. I call bologna on that. I think making plans with open hands is what free will is all about. And now that I am coming out of the weird slog that was 2024 (and 2023 to be honest), I feel like there’s only one thing to do: be grateful and get weird.

sam has never been shy in letting his freak flag fly. here he catches snowflakes on his tongue as wolfie assists.

getting weird: a how-to

It’s amazing what happens to you when you come out of a pit. I’ve seen the light at the end of the tunnel for a while, but to be out in the light? Well hot dog, I am squintin’ and cussin’ and praising the Lord all in one go. I’m a walking paradox and pleased as punch. To be frank, I’m just happy to be here.

So right now, I am cozied up and remembering from last year that January is a time to settle in and remember to breathe, but I am also looking forward to what I feel I finally have the brain space to attempt. And it’s the attempt that feels weird, because it’s been so long since I’ve given myself room to hope without pessimism gnawing at my knees like a hungry piranha.

Because the “getting weird” is actually just hopefulness. The permission to act silly and feel happy in public and do things I’ve wanted to do but decided cleaning was a better use of my time instead. And man, I like a clean house, but I’m wondering if maybe I can have a semi-clean house and also take a Zumba class? What wild hope would that be?

shut up and give me the dang list already

So here’s the list, but I’ve taken time to make sure I knew why I cared about each of these things. So next to each aspiration is my why. Some are essential, others are silly, all are things that give me hope. Be inspired, my adoring public.

1. Walk with a friend once a week: because you get to 10k steps a lot faster if you are talking and laughing with a friend. And community is important. As is fighting insulin intolerance while you still can. And if I can’t meet a friend, I’ll sub the friend for an audiobook (currently I’m listening to The Goldfinch by Donna Tartt).

2. Lift 2-3 times a week: because it makes me feel like Wonder Woman. And I sweat a lot and sweating makes me feel buoyant and clear-headed. And I need muscle as I go into my “later youth” (aka peri-menopause). And because I genuinely enjoy making gym bros feel weird while I’m pumping iron next to them. It’s my spiritual gift.

3. Attempt new recipes: because I have a million beautiful cookbooks I never use and I want to dirty those suckers up with my butter-covered thumbs. And I’m bored of making the same things everyday. And my four year old needs to become a more adventurous eater (as does his 41 year old father) and this is one way to do it.

4. Shower prayers: I have said many times that I wish I prayed in seasons of rest and joy like I do when I’m in seasons of crisis. This is the relationship I neglect the most, but especially when life ticks on like a freshly wound clock. So I pray in the shower. And in time, maybe I’ll find myself praying over dishes, praying at a stop light, praying more in public, in private, and in every little crack and crevice of life, until I’m just having an on-going conversation that never really gets an Amen.

5. Make stuff: because I’m tired on not making things. Writing poems, sitting over watercolors, painting the walls to our poo colored master bedroom. I’m wrapping birthday presents with extra panache. I’m mixing fancy mocktails in January. I’m gardening and growing those weird cucumbers. I’m making stuff, I’m trying stuff. Because I was created and I want to imitate the creator the best way I know how. And that brings me joy.

6. Read more: no number goal, just my nose in more books. especially before bed. and books in ears works too. And not judging myself based on what I think I should be reading, but reading what I want to read. I have a stack next to bed already. It’s daunting and wonderful.

curated chaos

Last night David and I were doing out best to coax Sam to go to sleep by himself in his own room. For the last month Sam has been on a hot streak of allowing us to leave right after reading a book, singing a few songs, and giving hugs and kisses—that’s it. We blow him a kiss and walk out the door and the evening is ours and it has been glorious. However, last night, Sam wasn’t having it. He’s lonely, he’s scared, he just wants us, the light fixture on his wall is scary, etc. It was a small bump, a minor inconvenience. Sam finally settled for us allowing him to have his twinkle lights on with his nightlight. His room feels a bit more like Vegas rather than a relaxing, melatonin-inducing child’s bedroom, but hey, he’s sleeping securely and that’s a win.

Sam curated his sleeping experience so that it suited his heart and soul and now he’s sleeping. It’s a little chaotic, but whatever, independent sleep is happening. I didn’t make resolutions this year. I wanted to hone skills I already have, create lasting habits in areas of interest, and do more of what I know is good. It’ll be messy, no doubt, but it’ll be my attempt at curating my own kind of happy chaos.

A couple of years back, my therapist was talking me through a bout of particularly bad anxiety I was having. At one point she told me that anxiety never really goes away, especially if you just typically run anxious (which I am). The difference is how you look at it. She said that if anxiety is a river, you can either float in it or let it drown you.

Honestly, that’s all I’m trying to do these days. If my head is above water, I’m reminding myself that I don’t have to drown—I can float. And when you float, life isn’t perfect, but you get to look up and see just how vast the sky is.

And when you see the vastness, sometimes you forget the river you’re in and decide to curate a little happiness in a perfectly imperfect life.

Always,
Emily

P.S. Tell me what you’re looking forward to this year, resolutions or no ;)