Welcome to The Pause, dear friend. Come on in and make yourself comfortable.
Well, y’all, with the sending of this issue I have officially written 50 issues of The Pause. Thank you for being here for however long you’ve been here. I’m so grateful we’ve found a way to connect along the way.
Today, I’d like to spend our pause appreciating what this project has meant to me (and perhaps to you, too).
Settle in, take a deep breath, and get ready to pause in 3…2…1…
50
I started writing The Pause a little over two years ago. The concept was an idea that came to me on the eve of my 32nd birthday while I was watching the sunset and bawling my eyes out about the year I’d just endured.
I was in so much pain, my body was aching from the trauma of my first year of parenthood in conjunction with the first year of the pandemic, and I was in desperate need of something for myself. I searched for the answer to my troubles in the sunset—crying somehow in both grief and gratitude at the same time—and just as the final rays of the sun were disappearing behind the Golden Gate, *BAM*, the answer rose from below the heaving hurts in my heart up into the parting stormy skies of my brain.
I needed to start writing again.
I knew somewhere deep in my spirit that I needed this project. I needed an outlet and ritual to hold on to. I needed a space where I could be something besides Mom and untangle my knotted insides. I needed somewhere where I could say, “Hey.. life is kind-of, really, bittersweet and I’m somehow both living for the sweetness of it and in excruciating pain from the unfolding of it.”
And so, that evening I sat down in my hotel room, opened my computer, and started writing until I could barely keep my eyes open anymore.
The direction of The Pause hasn’t ever been truly concrete. I’ve ebbed and flowed with what I’d like this project to mean to you and what I’d like this project to mean to me, but something that has remained true since that first writing session is how much I’ve enjoyed the ritual of sitting down, turning inward, and sharing what I find with you. That connection—to myself and to you—has been the anchoring reason I’ve kept this project going.
I love that when I write The Pause I feel more in tune with myself and more vulnerable with you. I love that when I press “send” I get to imagine my message gently entering your inbox and asking, “Are you good?” while encouraging both of us to touch down into those tender parts of ourselves before picking back up into the life that surrounds us. I am grateful for this space. For the opportunity to get to know myself. For the space in your inbox and life to get to connect with you.
Thank you for being here. Whether that’s been from the very first issue, or from today’s, Number 50. I could have never imagined we’d get here, but here we are, and I am so incredibly grateful.
⏸ Pause
However long we’ve been meeting together…
Is there an issue of The Pause that has touched you the most? If yes, I’d love to know.
Thank you again for being here to help me celebrate reaching the 50th issue of The Pause. I appreciate you. I’m rooting for you, and I’ll be relishing in the sweetness of life until we meet again. 🖤
~ L
P.S. Here’s the very first piece I posted. Hindsight, I see my trepidation, insecurity, and hesitancy to say what I really wanted to say, but I still love it so much. It was a leap of faith and the turning of a new page and I feel blessed to have an artifact where I can see my evolution as a woman and a writer.
P.P.S. Issue #1 of The Pause was sent out to five people who I trusted deeply with my tender soul. Sammy, Lucy, Timbo, Frisco, and KMac thank you for being here since the beginning—I’m so lucky to be loved and supported by you. I love you all so very much.
Chase Me to the Tree was the post that convinced me to subscribe - so beautifully written as a reminder to slow down and savor the rituals, because those become the memories we carry with us. My husband and I have recently started doing a simple phone game together before bed. It only takes 3 minutes and seems trivial, yet somehow that small point of connection has become one of my favorite parts of our bedtime routine.
Thank you for the time you take on these essays! And thank you for turning your pain into hope and peace for others :-)