A Contemplation Of Toleration. (A Freebie For All Because I Missed You Weirdos.)

What are you simply 'putting up with' in your life? Also: 'The Hill Of It's Never Too Late' is a good one to die on, my name's NOT Sarah, what to ask yourself to check that you're doing alright.

Who would have saved your younger self? I’d love to hear. What a gorgeous prompt and thought provoking thing to consider.

If you are feeling kind of meh lately, or things seem especially rough, just ask yourself Did I shit my pants today? If the answer is no, you’re doing alright.

I just saw that and if it doesn’t put things in perspective, I don’t know what does. (Remind me to tell you about the time that I did though.)

Hi Lifers. Or, Proofers,

(When I was a kid, my dad called farts poofs and Proofers makes me think of that, like Hi Farts! But, it also makes me remember my daddy. So, either nickname really.)

Making this one free with no paywall. However, if you are able to become a paying subscriber or founding member or even make a one time donation, I would be so grateful, and I’ve got you, too. No matter how you are here, be it paying member or not, I am so happy. Thank you.

I’m coming up for air and have just a few weeks before I leave for Italy (!) to lead my retreat (sold out but there’s room at the October 25-27 writing retreat I am doing alongside Cheryl Strayed, Anne Lamott, Marlon James etc. It’s in person in Hollywood and also virtual. Sign up here.)

I feel like a shit for not writing in so long. That’s kind of an apology, I know, and I do have this no sorry rule and all. Unless a sorry is called for, in which case please say you are fucking sorry. Because: gross. The idea behind is to curb the need to relentlessly apologize.

Like hey, I’m sorry for taking up space, I’m sorry for having needs, I’m sorry for being a person.

Every time you say sorry for something that a sorry is not called for, you pay $5 to the Sorry Bank. Aka someone you love or a charity. Pay me, for Chrisssakes. Just hold yourself accountable in your commitment to breaking this habit.

I do want to apologize though. I aim to be consistent with this, and will be, moving forward. I do not take you for granted and I cherish this community, and want to nurture it.

Having said that, I was in Book Deadline Hell. I thought with my son gone a whole month with his dad in London that I’d have so much time. Oh, but I was just sooooo sad, boo hoo it’s so long that he’s gone cry cry. You know you were right. You all said it. It’s going to go by so fast, Jen! It did. It went by in one half of a half of a blink. Suddenly, he’s back and I am IN THE SOUP and boy, oh Chef Boyardee (sp?) I’ve never worked so hard in my life. I cannot wait for you to have this baby in your hands. (June?)

I didn’t lift my head up, except to paint 689 paintings (because I am bananas.) Many are sold but many are for sale and I say many because I painted an obscene amount that makes no logical sense. F*ck logic. (I love how I occasionally bleep out the u in fuck. I’m so not consistent, see? I am trying to be better with consistency!)

Oh, shut up, Yoda.

Painting and making art has become my deepest medicine (besides community.) Who knew?

Who knew?

Do you ever consider how many who knews are waiting for you? What are you willing to discover? I don’t know if I discovered painting as much as I allowed it to find me. Sit with that.

I’d love to hear more about what you are willing to discover. About what who knews you’ve found in your life that took you by complete surprise? Chat away, beloveds. I love reading your comments. I feel like I get to know you intimately. Thank you for that.

Or, do you think you’re done? As in, fully cooked? Ha! What a lark! Joke’s on you, if you believe that lie. (Stop it!) Listen: we are forever works in progress and it is never too late. I said what I said.

I’m thinking about the word tolerate.

I know someone who tolerates. A lot. They pride themselves on it, in a way; they think it’s a beautiful way to be, which- while I agree to an extent- (TO AN EXTENT, I SAID)we have to be discerning about what we choose to tolerate. Nay,¹ we get to be.

We get to have that. Ah, she’s back with her You Get To Have This. That’s right.

Withstanding.

Withstanding everything was how I survived the guilt and grief of my dad dying suddenly when I was 8. By learning to tolerate I was able to keep carrying on. I taught myself. Me, master teacher of toleration and denial. (No more! I hung up my hat!

At age 8, the voice in my head turned on, which said: Might as well get used to this, you idiot. Get used to tolerating disappointment and heartache and pain. Swallow it all You did this so get used to a life of this!

I believed his death was entirely my fault. 100%.

And no, I never worked through that. It worked through me.

It worked its way right through me. Almost killed me, in fact. Until I wrote two books about it and painted one million paintings and left a marriage, and hi, I am still here. Not dead.

It will work its way through you.

Things don’t disappear on their own. Even if you think you are shoving it down far enough that it might (lol lol I thought that lol) or because no one else can see it (they can and I thought this too lol lol.)

If you don’t work through it- or work with it (I don’t love the work work but it will suffice) it will work through you. Until you can no longer avoid and then you’ll act all surprised like How did you get here?

It’ll say How did I get here? I have always been here. You just pretended I wasn’t, you nincompoop. Ugh, you’re so human!

At 8 years old I began withstanding. Everything. I taught myself how to not feel pain. How to not feel anything. I was a magician and I played a trick on myself to keep me from succumbing to a grief I knew would kill me.

I have a poem in the new book called A Brief History Of My Education that I am excited for you to to read that talk more about this. What was your education? And, I do not mean literally. I’d love to hear. The good, the bad, the ugly. All of it. And, if you were going to start a school now, what would you call it? Mine (another thing all over the new book) is The School Of Whatever Works.

Someone told me that she was taught you showed someone you loved them by putting your wants and needs aside. Where is the face palm emoji when you need it? It hurts my heart to even read that sentence. How heartbreaking to think of how many of us were taught this; usually without an exchange of language but rather by witnessing people we loved doing just that.

How many things do we have to yet unlearn?

On the other hand, it’s exciting to consider how much is left to still learn.

When I was pregnant-my plantar fasciitis- inflammation of the plantar fascia in the foot- flared up. The pain was intolerable. I wore shoes in the shower, but still, kept standing. I didn’t pride myself on this as much as I ignored any pain, having taught myself how to tolerate anything, simply by pretending it didn’t exist.

It wasn’t simple. Also, it only works for so long.

I have some questions for you because I am in a real I need community way. It’s where I find God . Also, in my art. Not a secular God, nonetheless, God.

The dictionary says this of the verb tolerate: allow the existence, occurrence, or practice of (something that one does not necessarily like or agree with) without interference.

We must tolerate those who don’t necessarily live the way we do, or believe what we do. To a degree. I can’t stand blanket statements; as if there is ever a one size fits all way of being. I will not tolerate hate or defending guns or racism, or anything that is harmful in a way I am able to recognize. Granted, I am always learning, a former work in progress, as I said. This is why I say in ways I am able to recognize. I hope to always keep growing and learning and uncovering things I could not see before.

There are times that we put up with what could be called abuse (or what is actual abuse) because we mistakenly think we are tolerating, like a good person should. I throw up in my mouth a little at the idea of good girl, bad boy, etc. I spent my life telling myself I am bad so I officially am the sworn enemy now of those terms.

Questions for you:

What are you currently tolerating? Of these things (or people or relationships or jobs, or whatever it may be) what feels like you are tolerating simply because you don’t have a choice? Or, because you would be bad if you didn’t? Or, because you are too afraid of anything else?

Which of the things (using the word thing loosely here) are less of a toleration, and more an acceptance (like me with my deafness?) We do not have to tolerate or accept (or whatever word you want) what they told us we had to, or what our Inner Asshole thinks we have to, or what feels bad in our bodies. We do not have to tolerate toxicity or unkindness or lack of respect- at least not in areas where we get to be discerning.

Look around your life. The relationships. The roles you’ve taken on. The unspoken contracts. The habits. The beliefs.

Even more than my profound hearing loss, I accept (mostly) my NEVER ENDING ALL THE TIME ETERNAL DOES NOT STOP EVEN FOR A SECOND ANNOYING AS FUCK tinnitus in my ears. If I didn’t tolerate this, or accept it; what would that look like?

I would be miserable. I would be living in an alternate reality where I’d be denying I have constant train whistles in my head EVEN AS THEY ARE BLARING. Nope, not happening. I HEAR NO TRAIN WHISTLES. It’s crazy making, folks. Also, all my energy would be spent pretending, or trying to make it not so. It is exhausting AND crazy making.

I wrote a poem in my twenties before my hearing got as bad as it is now. I was still living a lie. by mostly pretending that I could keep up and feigning comprehension of what was being said. I’m always intrigued by prescient or seemingly premonitory things. I wrote this in my twenties:

I rely on echolocation, a seeing based on hearing.

I am part bat, I listen for signs, I hunt in the dark.

I have been sulfur at the tip of torches.

I have leapt to fire.

What the line is between honesty and cruelty? Is it as delicate as the wing’s patagium?

That membrane with its two thin layers of skin and high density of nerves?

I listen as hopefully as blood draws to the surface.

Silently, we watch those hairless pale yellow wings

become as still as our answer to the moon.

I actually wrote that I rely on a seeing based on hearing!! Um, hello? I AM DEAF! So classic.

Except, in a way it is true. I have learned to hear in all sorts of ways that transcend sense. I’ve had to. I use the word sense here judiciously.

---

As far as the word tolerate, some choice synonyms are: put up with, bear, stomach, endure, sit and take it (ha and ewww), suffer, acquiesce.

But my name’s not Sarah, so anyway. Whatever my name is, I do not want anyone to have to endure or bear me (or Sarah, really. Hi, Sarah!)

I do not want to be in a relationship where I have to stomach something or sit and take it.

And, yet. We do a lot, don’t we?

Are you willing to sit with what comes up for you when you investigate what you are currently tolerating? Notice how it feels in your body when you think about it. What does it feel like when you imagine yourself NOT tolerating this anymore? Play with sensations and visualizations; not with beating yourself up. You do not need any more practice with that. I know I don’t. Do NOT play with that.

I tolerated so much and for so long that it was an automatic response; an impulse. For years, I was so disconnected from my body that I would not know if I was hungry or full or sad or injured. I ignored everything and eventually found I no longer registered feelings and sensations so it didn’t even feel like tolerating. Another magic trick!

Not.

For a long time, I tolerated a marriage that was just fine.

It was fine. It was not until I was able to let go of fear’s grip around my throat that I could breathe deeply enough to take a look inside, rather than be in constant denial that I even had an inside. Imagine being so disconnected and for so long, that you trick yourself (there it is again, that word trick) into thinking there’s nothing there. Nothing inside of you. Empty. No feelings, no wants, no needs. (Makes it easy to put them aside if you believe you have none, doesn't it?)

I decided a life of tolerating was not what I was interested in. I reminded myself, and continue to remind myself ALL THE TIME, that I get to have more than metre tolerating.

So do you.

What are you interested in? What kind of life?

Regarding what you are tolerating, can you resist attaching a dumb old story to whatever you find? Can you not make it mean that you are a dumpster fire for tolerating whatever it may be? Look, a lot of what comes up may be great. I don’t know. But, I want to know so I hope you will engage in the chat.

If something comes up that makes your chest burn or your cheeks splash like someone threw raspberries at you (which would be weird), that is Shame doing the devil’s work for him. (Like the devil needs assistants. Asshat.)

Shame will tell you to get more raspberries.

Shame will tell you to get all the raspberries. Blackberries too. They stain more, and then, squash them all over your face and walk around like that FOREVER because JUST LOOK AT WHAT YOU’VE ALLOWED YOURSELF TO TOLERATE!

If you ever watched Game Of Thrones (I did. Only 7 years after everyone else) it will also have you hearing Shame Shame Shame being chanted at you à la GOT, so there’s that. Shame wants you to believe you are an idiot or a doormat or foolish for tolerating. You are none of those things. At any moment- right now in fact- you get to begin again and choose differently. It is never too late and I will die on The Hill of It’s Never Too Late. You can visit me there to pay your respects and bring flowers and stuff.

Another question: What do you no longer wish to tolerate?

What is a now what? to start putting that wish into action? What would be the first and easiest thing?

Maybe it’s just imagining yourself free of it, for today. That’s a step. Imagining and visualising and letting ourselves FEEL things in our body is a daily step.

I am after a life of intentionality. You?

If whatever we tolerate is intentional and something we are actively choosing- then great. So be it. I was living a long time like I was a passive participant in my life; like it just happened to me. Life, that is. As opposed to me having agency. Do you recognize yourself at all? And what do you want to do about that? Or, as I generally (always) say: Now What?

Unrelated, this gave me a good chuckle:

Cause I hate turning. I also hate change. But I did it! At last! I made the biggest most monumental changes in my life and although I added more than four hours and 200 miles to my trip, it was all worth it! Thanks, Waze!

Sharing some art I’ve done recently below. Email me if you’d like to buy any and I will ship it to you. I am slow because I have a medical disorder called WHY CAN’T I GO TO THE POST OFFICE AND JUST SEND THE FUCKING THINGS?

Some are taken, but always ask.

I love you, weirdos.

PS: I’m so grateful for you. This Substack’s subscribers keeps the ecosystem of I Got Youness going, as well as sustains me. You can also donate or gift a subscription, which is a beautiful way of doing love. You can always ask me if you want to be a “paying member” but cannot afford. No questions asked. I got you. Just ask.

Just so stinking grateful for you.

Love, me

I am NOT a neat maker of things. Not in the kitchen, not with art, not with words, not with the bed, not with love. But still, I make.

1. Why does saying nay feel so satisfying?