There's A Bag on My Shelf
and what’s inside it, humbled me
I’ve been sitting with this letter for a while now, trying to figure out what I wanted to say.
The honest truth is that, like many, this year challenged me in ways I didn’t expect.
I changed jobs in October; I walked out on a situation that had unfortunately become untenable and into something exciting and new on the very same day.
(More on that another time, but the short version: I chose my dignity. And I’d do it again.)
The new role is in the beauty industry, which feels like a homecoming in a way, since my very first profession was as a beautician.
And I’m loving it. Though the transition meant the podcast and my Substack newsletter went quiet, and I’ve missed being here with you.
Here’s what I want to tell you, though.
I was in my office the other day, clearing some things out. I’d received a few lovely cards recently that I hadn’t put away yet.
I keep these kinds of letters and cards I’ve collected over the years in a drawstring bag tucked away in a bookcase in my office.
Some are from my late father and his sister, my Godmother & aunt. Some are from my husband. But mostly, they’re from clients, students, people who’ve become friends.
And they contain words of appreciation & thanks - a kind of ‘proof of impact’.
Usually I just slip the new card in and put the bag back in it’s place. But this time, I took a moment to pluck a few out & read through them.
And it undid me a little.
Because there’s this thing I struggle with and I’m just going to say it out loud:
I wrestle with visibility and growth and numbers and I have done for a long time.
The algorithms. The engagement. The offers that ‘only’ 10 people buy after I’ve poured weeks into creating them.
It’s a constant source of frustration and there have been moments over the years when I seriously questioned whether I want to keep doing ‘this’ at all - and by ‘this’, I mean… *gestures wildly at…whatever*.
When I measure myself against the metrics that supposedly matter, I come up short.
At 50, I still [happily & gratefully, mind you] live in my mother’s house. I also live in the ever present shadow of my father's success and the significant financial debt I've accrued, trying to emulate it.
I drive a 10-year-old car - which, it must be said, never gives me an ounce of trouble and for which I am also grateful - but it concerns me that I can’t afford to upgrade, because that necessity is inevitably coming.
By conventional standards, I am not at all “successful”, in fact, I am haunted by a profound sense of inadequacy & failure.
And yet… and yet… and yet…
There I was, holding a literal bag full of words from people telling me I changed something for them. That I helped. That my offerings to them, mattered.
It reminded me of a dream I had shortly after my father died. He was cremated and in the dream I was in an empty office, filled with ashes.
Every drawer I opened, every filing cabinet, nothing but ashes.
Piled on the desk. Covering the floor. I was sifting through it all, looking for… something. When I finally distilled that dream down, one line emerged:
Nothing of value can be contained.
The success my father had - the fame, the fortune - it all turned to ash. What remained was the imprint. The impact. The way he was with people, how he was remembered by the difference he made to their lives.
I haven’t fully accepted this about myself yet. The truth is that I discount my impact because of the lack of any accompanying financial success.
I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t still lamenting and [more often than I care to admit] resenting that lack of material success. That it doesn’t sting.
But I’m trying to hold both truths at once: that I want more and that I already have something real.
It may come across as maudlin to admit but I sometimes draw comfort from imagining this bag of kind words as a living eulogy - a celebration of my existence that I didn’t even have to die to receive.
*chuckles in enneagram 4*
So thank you. For being one of the kind people in my bag. For reading these words. For listening. For showing up.
For staying here with me even when I go quiet.
What’s Ahead: Podcast news, New Moon Journaling Sessions, RAW in real life.
The podcast is coming back in January! I have guests scheduled and I’m hoping to record an episode with Melanie over the holidays.
Starting January 1st, I’m raising the paid SUBSTACK subscription to $10/month, because I’m adding something I’m genuinely excited about: monthly live journaling gatherings. [this won’t affect your current rate if you’re already subbed, only new subs]
These gatherings won’t be lessons or workshops; they’ll be guided sessions where we journal together, in community.
Time for quiet. Time for sharing.
I’m thinking around new moon time, with varied days and times so everyone has a chance to make one. All sessions will be recorded and live here for paid members.
I’m also continuing with a very small, select 1-1 coaching clientele as well as my Saturday journaling sessions in Killaloe. (simply reply to this email if you’re interested in either)
And I’m hoping to revive my RAW workshops as real-time, in person offerings at some point. But given that I am working full time now, this may be a challenge, we will see.
And… I would really love to do another USA RAW tour - which still feels pretty daunting. Partly because having to unexpectedly cancel & refund an entire year of scheduled workshops, both at home and abroad during COVID, honestly put me off ever organising anything ‘in real life’, ever again.
But mostly because of the executive functioning clusterfuck of it all.
[In the spirit of transparency, I’m finally pursuing an ADHD assessment. Because it turns out that persistent overwhelm in general and a ‘never not dysregulated’ nervous system is not in fact, ‘normal’. More on that as I learn more.]
For You This Week
I’m leaving you with a replay of last year’s Christmas episode with Mel; our conversation about self-caring through the holidays.
It holds up.
✨For paid subscribers✨
Something special is waiting for you. Almost 25 years ago, Mel and I co-hosted a Christmas morning radio show with our father for Ireland’s national broadcaster, RTE RADIO ONE.
It’s music and banter and his voice and us and it’s become so special to us. A friend of mine very kindly dug it out of the RTE archives for me last year and it’s something we will always cherish.
And as an offering of gratitude for your support as a paid subscriber, I want to share it with you along with an invitation to pour yourself something warm on Christmas morning and enjoy.
That’s what we will be doing. Scroll down to access it below.
So…
The Year of the Snake is done. Hopefully the shedding wasn’t too painful. The year of the horse is coming. Hopefully he’s not lame.
The word that keeps presenting itself to me for the year ahead is pleasure - but not the dopamine-chasing, pain-avoiding kind.
Something more conscious. More intentional. More sustainable. I’ll say more when I know more.
For now: thank you for being here. For reading. Listening. For staying.
Wishing you a safe, peaceful Christmas and whatever quiet magic you need to close out this year.
Always, Amanda xx
P.S. - If you’ve been thinking about upgrading to a paid subscription, now’s the time - you’ll lock in the current rate before it goes up January 1st.