Elissa Stein's Blog

I am pretty good at doing things for myself. Exercising, taking supplements, naps when I am so exhausted I need a break. But I don’t know that I excel at true self-care. My stress level is usually pretty high, I have all sorts of low level muscle aches, and pains that tell me, I am not respecting my body as well as I could and should be. I feel the tears pretty often these days and even though I meditate and practice, yoga and play with my dog and do creative things I still struggle. 
I mean, there was a lot of grief and loss and mourning over the past stretch. Learning to live with all of that, how it shapes and changes is still a work in progress. Giving up my quiet and independence to live with a growing up child who is now an adult is often a tight road walk and I’m never quite sure if I am balancing or about to fall into an abyss. Life sometimes. Challenging and rewarding. Joyful and overwhelming. Beautiful and heartbreaking. So I am taking this month to work on, settling and looking in word and finding peace no matter how chaotic everything may be.

 I had a dream about my dad last night. He had a couple of shopping cards filled with what looked like junk that he was trying to give away, along with a raggedy, stained stack of photocopies with some sort of explanatory manifesto. My brother was yelling at him that this was just a stupid waste of time - no one wanted what he was giving. But my dad tried to explain his carts were filled with broken phones and cameras and he thought they might help people somehow. 

It was such a powerful dream I woke up thinking my dad was trying to be in touch with me and that I should reach out. That hasn't worked in the past. We've only spoken a couple of times, or maybe even once in the past 14 years. It wasn't a blow up parting of the ways, more a wicked stepmother who reveled in making me feel bad and me growing past that point. Healthy and good. Helped shape the parent I became and perhaps, more than likely, I swung too much in the opposite direction but I wanted my kids to know I had their backs no matter what. And they do.

So, I'm sitting with reaching out and knowing it won't get me anywhere and feeling residual sadness but also light at letting go of destruction and hurtful situations. Life sometimes is about that - knowing when it's time to let go.

 We hosted a party years and years ago after discovering we were on the parade route of the Village Halloween Parade. It felt mandatory to share that experience. As a gift someone brought us a witching powder from Salem, something meant to cast a spell and make a wish come true. I wished for the thought about the possibility of maybe thinking about the thought of having a baby - truly it was dipping the most tiny of toes into the most shallow of ponds. That's how I feel right now. I'm very cautiously, borderline contemplating, slightly thinking about the thought of writing. Not actually digging in and doing the work, doing the research, doing the practice of stringing thoughts into words, words into possibilities. But it's time to not necessarily figure out what's next, but rather open some doors so something can come through. 

Thankful for that. Thankful for so many things. Breathing deep and holding on and feeling grateful.

I am generally not a big resolution person, but I’m feeling like saying some things out loud, or on a screen, will help them manifest.
My word for this year is connection. Working at home can be isolating and being social, connecting, seeing other people, engaging, takes works. This year I want to work on things that aren’t so solitary.
Practice more yoga. I don’t realize how much I am missing but it is feeling like something that needs to come back. 
Look for ways for my body to not hurt so much. Self care on many levels for this year. 
Back to big projects and interesting things to do. Grateful for all I’ve done but maybe I am ready to tackle more from a stronger place than I did in the past.
Not take on other people’s stuff. That’s hard for me but learning boundaries and limits will help.
Celebrating where I am instead of bemoaning, where I’m not. 
Letting go of letting anxiety run things. 
Appreciating my body instead of belittling it. 
Cleaning more. 
Finding a puppy. 
Smacking back at negativity and intrusive thoughts. 
Healing. 

Lately I’ve been feeling like I haven’t accomplished much, that life has been a bit flat and uninteresting and I’m floating on the surface instead of digging in. I mean grief can do that to you. I lost my brother and dear puppy this year and my mom the summer before. It’s been a stretch of sobbing at the drop of a hat and emptiness and sadness and scrolling through voicemails and photos and wishing it was all different or that I did more or that things weren’t what they now are. 
So I made a list of 2023 things, thinking there would be nothing on it and turns out things aren’t so black and white. I:
was interviewed on NPR and by The NY Times
was part of a coalition that helped a bunch of families in the Bronx through the high school process 
learned to put in a zipper and make pouches and tote bags for lots of people 
lounged on the beaches of Turks and Caicos
danced more than I have in years
hung out with super cool  friends
did all sorts of NYC things I’d never done before like silent discos at Lincoln Center and Diner en Blanc
visited one kid in LA
attended my other one’s college graduation
got all new furniture for my living room in bright and vibrant colors

let go of people who weren’t the right fit for me
podcasted for an entire year
helped my little one get through some really tough times
spent hours and hours in the hospital with my brother 
logged 15k exercise minutes 
Sometimes it’s hard to look at the bigger picture when you’re smack in the middle of stuff. 
Here’s to a 2024 with hopefully less grief and bigger things. 

I excel at routines. Sometimes. I get up every morning and weight myself (this isn’t particularly healthy). Meditate for 25 minutes. I do a bunch of deep fascia stretches. Take my blood pressure (most of the time). Walk my dog. Usually walk to Wegmans (good number of steps). Work out in some way. And then it kind of falls apart, although to be honest even though I want to think I am sacrosanct in all of the above, only a couple happen every day. I stopped taking vitamins for some reason. Rolling my feet on gold balls which is helpful. Doing legs up the wall. And then it’s all a jumble. 
I want to read every day. Be creative. Work on work projects. Maybe start writing a new book. Possibly bring a new company to fruition. Lose weight. Get me abs to a better place. Be more social. See more people. Accomplish more. 
I do do connections and wordle every day so there’s that. 
I am so very grateful for the freedom of time but I also know I’m so much more productive when I have a lot going on. And that brings stress. But so does not getting all that much done. 
Sigh. Serious first world problems. Totally recognize that. Maybe accepting what is instead of bemoaning what’s not is the way to go. 

I’d been mostly off Facebook for a month or so and honestly wasn’t missing it much. But after posted something the other day, about my brother who died in August and Christmas Eve which we always celebrated together and tangential stories about his and all that, I quickly got sucked in. 
I kept checking to see who like my post, who commented, also got stuck in the cycle of why them and not others. I went back to opening the app on my phone, just to see. Searched out different people and groups and spent a whole bunch of time in that vortex of scrolling and mind numbing. 
In this current place we’re collectively at, numbing minds is what so many/too many do. It is an effective distraction, a way to pass time, to feel like something is being accomplished or at least although I’m not sure what. It’s a hard habit to break as there is most assuredly an active aspect of it all. Thinking about all the things I could have done instead of mindless scrolling is hard to even comprehend. But today is a new day and while I miss the attention and feedback I can also see how controlling and negative it can be. 

My mom often told me I shared too much. She loved to follow me on Facebook and would worry (she always worried) if I wasn’t posting, but she wasn’t necessarily a fan of my content. Yes I shared a lot. And often. And emotionally. But just as most on social media, it was highly curated in its own way. 
Now that I’ve been mostly Facebook free for a stretch it’s interesting to look more objectively at all that sharing. There was something about a sense of community. There was something about recognition and appreciation and acknowledgment. I think that’s true for so many people - perhaps in rea life we don’t get what we crave or want or need or feel we deserve and so this online community can provide it in a way. Positives for sure. But it’s also addictive and can feed into doubt and insecurity. 
I posted something last night, for the first time and found myself back in the cycle of checking and checking again to see who liked and what comments and compare it against others who had more engagement and feedback. Not healthy for me. But sharing in some ways is. Maybe that’s the work - figuring out how to connect in ways that are more positive and sustainable for me. 

My mom often told me I shared too much. She loved to follow me on Facebook and would worry (she always worried) if I wasn’t posting, but she wasn’t necessarily a fan of my content. Yes I shared a lot. And often. And emotionally. But just as most on social media, it was highly curated in its own way. 
Now that I’ve been mostly Facebook free for a stretch it’s interesting to look more objectively at all that sharing. There was something about a sense of community. There was something about recognition and appreciation and acknowledgment. I think that’s true for so many people - perhaps in rea life we don’t get what we crave or want or need or feel we deserve and so this online community can provide it in a way. Positives for sure. But it’s also addictive and can feed into doubt and insecurity. 
I posted something last night, for the first time and found myself back in the cycle of checking and checking again to see who liked and what comments and compare it against others who had more engagement and feedback. Not healthy for me. But sharing in some ways is. Maybe that’s the work - figuring out how to connect in ways that are more positive and sustainable for me. 

I used to blog all the time. I had this blog. I had a blog dedicated to my kidney donation. I wrote a lot. It helped me process and feel and sharing helped me and sometimes it helped others who reached out to let me know they understood what I was going through and then social media showed up and all the writing I had done I transferred there. It was lovely to have a community and an audience and get likes and comments in real time in a more confined space and I loved all that but I also realized that social media can be addictive and negative and I’d spend time wondering if anyone would respond or care about what I was writing about or see the real me as opposed to my online persona. I never imagined I would let go of social media, but I could feel it’s toxicity and realized I needed to step away for a moment. 
That moment has grown into weeks. Honestly, I don’t really miss it most of the time.  There are plenty of moments I think I would like to share but then I think with whom and why? Maybe it’s enough to own my things for myself, and not need to share out so loud and so often. There is something performative about posting online and while that is neither good nor bad, maybe not sharing and just being is a better fit for me right now. Don’t get me wrong, I miss the likes and the comments and the interactions and support. But I don’t miss feeling like everyone else is living a better life or a more pain filled life or is something that I’m not. I’m not a content creator. I don’t need to world to acknowledge me. Maybe I thought I did for a stretch. But that’s a life of always chasing and performing. I’m working on being. And yes, sharing here but it feels like I don’t have an audience and that’s a relief.