What I’ve Learned In 2024, Big and Small, In (Mostly) No Particular Order
I contain multitudes. (for years I tried to put myself… or fit myself… into boxes I was supposed to fit into. in the same vein [kinda], I try to remember that “no one thinks they’re an asshole.” no one is trying to be an asshole. [right??] everyone contains multitudes themselves.)
Sherbert has dairy in it! (sorbet doesn’t… I was thinking of sorbet. I learned this in Maryland after Marcelline [who has a dairy allergy] puked a lot on a boat.)
Trust your gut. Trust your gut. Trust your gut. (this is a sequel to a slogan I constantly repeat from Maurice Sendak’s “live your life. live your life. live your life.” the times in 2024 when I didn’t trust my gut didn’t go good, man!)
If you get the chance to see one of your favorite bands four nights in a row, TAKE IT. (and if the first night is your birthday, even better.)
Supergoop’s Golden Hour Glowscreen is FAR too dark for my complexion. (but I’m gonna keep wearing it until my one bottle is done, because the stuff is not cheap!)
Rose, Thorn, Buds are for grownups, just as much as they are children. (maybe moreso?)
The body always keeps the score. (whether you like it or not.)
I keep learning how to be a better person from my partner. (he keeps learning useless pop culture references from me… so we’re basically even, right?)
Time is a thief. (family is important.)
I can do hard things! (bodies paired with determination are amazing.)
Life is long. (they say “life is short,” but this year I’ve very much felt the opposite. yes, my baby is growing up faster than any other human child that has ever lived. yes, someone who rang me up at a store the other day asked me if I had a son and then said that I look “just like their friend” which made me feel a million years old and I was just 18 myself yesterday. but life is long. I’m playing a long-game here where I’m investing in myself and my happiness and my family. I feel like I’ll work with my favorite collaborators again. I feel like I’ll visit my favorite places again. I more quickly forgive those who have hurt me and myself as well, because I know life is long and holding on to stuff only hurts yourself. life is long. learning is forever. this marathon of life is giving me hope for it all.)
Brain meds are important.
Friends are important.
(and your mom’s friends are more important than I had previously realized.)
Music is important. (I went from a music-only radio station to a dual-format and while it’s all important and amazing… god, I miss connecting to the music with so many coworkers. I’m doubling-down in 2025 when it comes to buying records and music discovery. here are my favorite albums of 2024.)
Vulnerability is my super power.
This is the main thing I learned this year. I have always been “Overshare Stevens” (coined by Evan), but in 2024, I really went super vulnerable—in life, in work, in friendships, in my marriage, in my parenting, and in my creative work. In the last half of December 2024, I told a story about losing my virginity (at a storytelling event in the same place it happened… also, I won first place) and then a story about my most shameful time in life was published in the New York Times.
I thought I would die if this story ever came out. I have submitted a few essays since my first Modern Love and none of them were selected, so I thought I was safe submitting this one and just saying I tried. Even when I was working with the editor of Modern Love on publishing this, I thought I was going to throw up a few times. I had to have some super hard and raw conversations with my sister and my mother to make sure this could be published. I thought maybe if someone had a problem with the story, I would just not publish it. Maybe it was too much.
But it wasn’t too much. It was perfect. My vulnerability freed me. SO MANY PEOPLE have reached out to me because of this piece, just published five days ago. People resonate with it and connect with me, because of this writing. I feel seen and I feel free in a way I haven’t felt in YEARS. (thank you for reaching out, strangers and loved ones alike.) My veins are pulsing with a strength they haven’t known in some time. Vulnerability is my superpower. Nothing can stop me now, because shame is powerless over me. Judge me all you want. Scoff at my tears. Test my honesty. Try and shame me. It won’t work. Somehow something that once felt so disarming and cut me down at the knees is making me stronger, just by sharing it. So I’ll keep armoring up with vulnerability and baptizing myself waters of self-acceptance—preferably by way of a backdive.
It’s still scary—life and all and parenting and career goals and wanting big things. But I feel more equipped now, knowing a few superpowers exist within me.
Happy New Year’s, my loves! I’m hoping 2025 is YOUR YEAR. The one where you discover your superpowers and feel so seen. I love you and am so grateful you’re here as a part of this online community—this messy, essay-focused Substack. Thank you.
xxo,
Rachel.
Just read this in the NYT and loved it so much! 😍