my new era.

it's messy.

We’re in an era era. Young women are out there living their best lives calling it their “slut era” and let me tell you how jealous I am. Not because I want to be slutting it up right now, but because I DEF had a slut era, we just didn’t have a name for it yet to be all proud about. But now that it’s something we’re embracing (thank god), this is me…

Recently, my favorite blogger of all time (I know… what a weird sentence) announced her separation from her husband. When I tell you, I was SHOOKETH. I mean, I’ve been reading Cup of Jo almost every single day for more than a decade. I have made friends through the comment section. Evan has bought me COUNTLESS gifts because of her suggestion. (he knows to just buy me whatever Joanna says to.) When Cup of Jo published one of my comments, I was like, “Can I add this to my résumé??!”

For gods’ sake I found my wedding dress from this post.

And I didn’t see this coming. I still have so many questions. But I’m weirdly just so excited for Joanna. There’s this article about Joanna’s separation called “Welcoming Cup of Jo’s Divorce Era.” Jo is going forward in her Divorce Era and I love that empowerment.

I’m not in my slut era… I’m not getting a divorce (that I know about)… What is my era?? I want an era! What era am I in??

To figure this out, let’s take a skim of what eras I’ve definitely been in…

My Jesus Era: Yes, I was very religious in high school and college.

My Slut Era: Yes, I made up for it.

My Affogato Era: I lived in Australia for six months and hated it, but discovered affogatos at a delicious coffee shop one morning. I fed my depression and writing inspiration with espresso and ice cream. I gained 30 pounds that year and I cried a lot and I wrote some of my favorite things.

My Manic Pixie Haircut Era: I cut all my hair off and Evan still loved me and I drank a LOT and was manic and emo as hell.

My Boss Bitch Era: After grad school, I went into advertising, made a lot of radio, became a Creative Director, wore heels a lot.

My Depression Era: It was basically the pandemic. You know. You were there. While I had an amazing baby girl and had so many incredible moments with family and oh also started a dream job at KEXP and wrote my actual favorite thing… shit was hard. There were so many family health issues and so many relapses into darkness… it was when I started antidepressants and became a love-letter to Zoloft.

And now I’m coming out of My Depression Era. It’s time for a new era. But saying something like it’s “My Mom Era” makes it sound like me being a mom will stop someday. This is the same snag with “My Radio Era”, “My Zoloft Era”, or “My Woo Era.” I want to feel something new and feel like, “Yep. This is my fucking ERA.”

In the past four years, I’ve really let go of so many expectations. My perfectionism has crumbled and things have comically become a mess around me. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve always been messy: my room, my car, my desk, how I eat, etc. My best friend in the world asks if I still get food in my eyebrows when I eat. (sometimes… shut up!) I remember one time living in employee housing (a tent) in Yosemite, I was talking to my roommate—both of us on our respective beds—and she stopped talking mid-sentence and said, “I don’t even know if you know what’s under your bed right now. It’s so messy!” I was mortified.

Evan has always called me “Gretel” when I leave stuff around the house, but now we have a toddler who is, well, a toddler… which is synonymous with being messy. Everything is messy. Sometimes I am a mess. But the difference is… now… I am not embarrassed of it. It is not a place that shame is allowed. Even if my life is a mess of health/family/social issues, I finally know I am not alone in it, so why the fuck try to hide it? And if my life is messy, I finally know that I’m trying—sometimes my hardest, sometimes just trying.

Two things I know about myself right now. I am messy and I want to write. I am ready to really dive into personal essays. So—as you may have noticed—I’ve changed this Substack name from the vague “wullhay” to “messayist.” It’s time to get more pointed with what I’m doing here—the internet and life. I am an essayist and I am a mess.

Welcome to My Messayist Era, bitches.

It’s gonna be messy. Expect a personal essay each Tuesday in your inbox with a little woo and a handful of pop culture and music suggestions.

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A Little Woo:

Messy Manifestation: Yesterday, we had a New Moon in Pisces, which means it’s time to dream and dream big. So I made a Vision Board. But when I looked at the Vision Board I had made for 2022, I was kind of like, “girl, same.” My 2022 was completely different than what I had wanted to manifest. I flew home to Texas eight times in 2022—five times to be with my mom while she went through breast cancer treatments, two times to be with my best friend when her father passed away, one time for Christmas (of which my parents tested positive for Covid hours after our arrival).

I looked at what I wanted to manifest last year and just added a few things to it. It’s so interesting seeing the tattered edges of dreams or ripping off old or accomplished dreams. There are dreams on there that have been pasted over or ones that have shone through for years… wanting. It’s messy. Messy manifestation. I did a tarot reading atop it yesterday and just feel so good about going forward in this life. This one precious life. (pictured above on my messy desk… with some dreams/goals redacted, because I’m an open book, but also I’m a human.)

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Quick Hits:

• Jam of the Week: Janelle Monáe - Float (feat. Seun Kuti & Egypt 80).

  (there’s not really even a video there, but I’m obsessed with this song. I love so many of the lyrics, but the toast at the end is what I want to be doing with all y’all around a big table, full with candles…

  
  Alright, I have a toast if you're willing to repeat it (Yeah)
  Repeat after me (Alright)
  To the lives we lead (To the lives we lead)
  To the dreams we chase (To the dreams we chase)
  To the moments that we make (To the moments that we make)
  And the fucked up shit we can't erase (And the fucked up shit we can't erase, woo)
  

• I Finally Saw this INCREDIBLE Film.
  (and I loved it as much as you would assume I love it.)
  

• I Finished This Book.
  (I know I’m a couple years behind, but it’s beautiful. it also made me weep.)
  

• This Gave Me Joy.

  (let’s go dance on a roof together, okay?)
  

• A Perfect Mirror.

  (which I cannot afford.)
  

• Step Your Pussy Up.

  (that’s a RuPaul saying… a franchise of which I’m obsessed with. are you paying attention to the Anti-Gay laws people are trying to pass? how politicians are trying to vilify drag queens? it’s horrid. speak up when you can.)
  

• The Absolute Best News.

  (I cannot express to y’all how grateful I am for the love given to my family in these unclear times. thank you.)
  

Yes, this here news(love)letter has changed cadence and format and now name—it’s a mess—but as we say in Texas: bless this mess. Thank y’all for being here.

xxo,
rachel.