The Nuance Diaries

SUBSCRIBERead The Start Of It AllRead '5 Life Lessons From The Devil Wears Prada 2' Book a Coaching Session with Me! Welcome back to The Nuance Diaries!I’ve been playing around with how I describe what I write about here, and recently landed on this:“Unfiltered alchemy from your most unhinged group chat. Consider my vulnerability a permission slip for yours.”I kind of love it. Thoughts?I wrote this song around 3 years ago now. It was inspired by a conversation with one of my best friends last weekend. A specific sentence that she said inspired the whole thing, and that specific sentence is in the song - verbatim. I’ll let you guess what it is (or you can just listen to the voiceover where I’ll tell you!)Highly recommend listening to this one if you’re usually a reader. Highly recommend listening to The Nuance Diaries in general, honestly. It’s not a robot voice - I read them!Can’t see where my life is headin’But I can see the bottom of my sinkAnd that might not mean much to youBut Lord it means everything to meAnd I cannot rememberThe last day that I went without a drinkBut today I did my dishesAnd that’s gonna have to be enough for meI think myself in circlesAs I sit here sprawled on the couchI have all these great ambitionsSometimes I even write a few downAnd I cannot rememberThe last time that I believed in meBut today I did my dishesAnd that’s gonna have to be enough for meI know I’m working hardAnd sometimes I can see itThey say I’m doing fineMaybe one day I’ll believe itThis is a great big worldAnd I am just one girlI wanna do everythingAnd nothing at allI’m gonna try to work onNot feeling so smallI’m gonna try to work onThinking I can have it at allBut for now I’ll clean my closetDo my dishesSing this songCan’t see where my life is headin’But I can see the bottom of my sinkThat might not mean much to youBut Lord it means everything to me This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit thenuancediaries.substack.com/subscribe

Read This on Substack (and subscribe!) Me all of last week, “The amount of think pieces we are about to see on LinkedIn about the Knicks…Fast forward to me, last night, writing this between Q2 and Halftime to avoid freaking out.As a Broadway Baby, I have often likened sports arenas to theater performances in order to understand the appeal.When the Chiefs were in the Super Bowl a few years ago, for Taylor Swift’s first appearance in Travis Kelce’s box, a creator on TikTok made an analogy between a football stadium and a theater in the round.There were many first-time viewers that year, many of us Swifties. We wanted to understand what was going on. We wanted to root for Taylor’s boyfriend’s team. But we simply had no idea what was going on. After all, the last time we were at Arrowhead, it looked a lot different.I remember a creator on TikTok saying that a football game is like theater in the round, and the football itself is the thing that the players/ “actors” want more than anything in the world. Therefore, they will do anything they have to do to get that ball. It is the thing that matters most to them.Is this a simplification? Sure. But it was also my access point into a pretty gate-kept and gendered world.Fast forward to the Knicks’ championships.See how I’m calling it the Knicks championships, even as I write this during the second quarter of the game?The Spurs are technically also there, too. Their biggest adversary.And the refs — the Knicks’ other biggest adversary.Thousands of spectators inside MSG and Frost Bank Center wholeheartedly believe in the Knicks more than they have ever believed in themselves.People who spent large sums of money to be in the room where it happens, and watch the Knicks soar to victory(edited: WHICH WE DID!!)Audience members at plays and musicals also pay similar sums of money to watch actors play characters that they’ll root for far more than they do themselves.Both audiences and fans are there to be entertained and moved, as they ruthlessly root for the people on court and on stage.The difference?In a sports arena, there is no way of knowing how the night will end.No script.The stakes are honestly much higher than they are in a theater, in a lot of ways.People pay hundreds to thousands of dollars, with no idea how the night will unfold, and deep trust that the outcome will be in their favor.Sure, the teams have performed well before. There have been great sports games before. Many would say it’s an objectively worthwhile risk, and money well spent.How much would you have paid to be at one of the championship finals games?How much is that rush of adrenaline worth to you? That piece of history?Would you, too, spend hundreds of thousands of dollars to attend an event with an unknown, unpredictable outcome?If you were offered the chance to have a life-changing experience with an unknown outcome, would you take it?An unforgettable night.A singular experience.One that could truly change your life.Would you go?What about an unforgettable conversation?A singular conversation.That could change your life in the same way.If I offered you that experience, would you take it?Without knowing the outcome, purely hoping and believing in the best?That’s the bold, brave risk that people make when they sign up for a session with me.A conversation with me is an unforgettable experience, with an unpredictable outcome, that will likely change your life.Want to change the end of your story, when you’re down 29 points in the second half?And find a way to get the thing you care about most, when all the odds (refs) seem stacked against you?Just like our Knicks, you’re capable of all that and more.But you can’t do it alone. No one does it alone.I’ve honed a rare and powerful set of skills that perfectly position me to help people figure out who they are, what they want, and how to get it.I help people get connected to themselves so that they can get the most out of life and achieve all that they want to.I’m the coach you want in your corner for your personal championship.Reach out to learn more about how we can work together.OR head straight to the free throw line to take a shot at a 1:1 session(I had to get one more basketball reference, come on!)BOOK A SESSIONBuy My Book Buy Me a Coffee This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit thenuancediaries.substack.com/subscribe

Less than 0.1% of the global population will ever write a book. Not publish — write.Someone told me that statistic recently, at an event where I talked about my book. Around 0.0086% are published authors.Over 50% of U.S. writers are women, which is major, major progress.And when we filter by Black women?We make up 4% to 7% of published authors in America.Regardless of the exact stats, which are changing all the time and differ based on where you collect them —I’m in very rare company as a published author.And a self-published author at that.You know what’s wild, though?As I went to type ‘self-published’, what I first wrote was ‘selfish.’And I can’t blame that on autocorrect. That was 100% my subconscious at work.Selfish.It’s a word that’s been viewed as ‘dirty’ and very much weaponized as an insult.It makes my skin crawl a little, as a recovering people pleaser.We’re all selfish to some extent, though, aren’t we? Or shouldn’t we be?I deserve to be proud of my book.I deserve to talk about my book without making excuses about what I would’ve done differently.It’s not about the number of copies I’ve sold or the money I’ve made.There is a book with my name on it, sitting on people’s bookshelves.A book I rarely talk about.People have said such beautiful, kind things about my book, The Start Of It All. Many people read it in a day. Someone in their seventies even loved it. Imagine that, a 70-something loving a book that I wrote for 20-somethings. And yet — I don’t really talk about it. Ever. I wrote it, published it, posted about it a few times, sold a hundred or so copies, and then…just stopped.It’s not intentional. I’m not trying to hide my book.Or maybe I am, subconsciously?The Start of It All is a book full of questions designed to help you get to know yourself better, paired with stories about my 20s. And that’s mostly true. But if we’re being specific…Those stories about my 20s? They’re about my messiest moments. When I hand my book to someone, it feels like I’m handing a part of myself over to them — because I am. I truly poured my entire being into this book. I always say that I want my vulnerability to be a permission slip for yours, and I mean that. I love handing out those permission slips left and right, here inside The Nuance Diaries each week. I talk about this Substack all the time. But not the book. Why don’t I talk about my book?I’ve already had more success as a writer than I ever could have dreamed of.I have an amazing playwriting agent.My work is featured in The Best Women’s Monologues of 2022; the same kind of anthology I used to look for monologues in high school. My plays have been performed across the country — most recently, at Notre Dame this Spring. The college senior directing it emailed me that they were rehearsing on the beach in Mexico on Spring Break.I’ve never been to Mexico. Or Notre Dame.But my words have.A play that I wrote on my couch in pajamas has literally been to a country that I myself have not. I’m pretty proud of that. So why not the book that I wrote in pajamas at my kitchen table?In the project proposal for my senior thesis, I told the committee that if just one person had a “me too” moment during my play, I’d be unimaginably happy and proud. I still feel that way about all of my work. If any contribution I’ve made to the world can help someone feel less alone, I’ve done my job. I know for a fact that The Start Of It All has helped many people feel not only less alone, but truly seen. The very thing I craved during my 20s — and still do now.In my 20s, I needed to know that I hadn’t screwed up my life entirely.I still need daily reminders of that.In my 20s, I needed to know that I still had time.I still feel like I’m running out of time, a la Hamilton. In my 20s, I needed to know that it was okay to have a lot of questions and no answers.These days, I’m smart enough to know that no one has the answers.In my 20s, I needed to know that ‘crushing my 20s’ wasn’t a prerequisite for a good life.I now know that anyone who says they crushed their 20s is lying to either you or themselves.Perhaps what I needed most of all in my 20s was for someone to tell me that no one knows more about me than I do. Because it’s true.No one knows more about me than me.Just like no one knows more about you than you.Having that kind of personal autonomy would have drastically changed my life at any point in my 20s. I have no idea how different my life might have been if I had started listening to my intuition over everyone else’s advice sooner.No regrets, though. I sincerely mean that.Some of the biggest, messiest moments from my 20s that I swore in the moment I would never tell anyone?They’re in the book. My messiest moments are now my best stories.I fully own my entire story, not only because I have compassion for myself, but because I want to extend as much compassion as I can to as many people as I can.I’m realizing that I can’t really extend the compassion without talking about my book.And also, that owning my story means celebrating my story. If in their lowest moment, someone thinks to themselves, “Alexa would never be as hard on me as I’m being on myself right now”, then I got one thing right.I want The Start Of It All to be a companion to you in those moments — just like Glennon Doyle was to me on the night I lost my mind, and found myself. (Well, her book was that companion to me, not actual living, breathing Glennon Doyle, although I really do think we’d make such great friends.) Glennon Doyle is truly my proof that you can embrace your mess, feel it all, pivot more than a few times, and still wind up with a beautiful, beautiful life.My life is proof of that, too.I actually think imperfect, messy women lead the best lives.Imperfect, messy women who aren’t entirely sure why they’re uncomfortable talking about their books, but are doing it anyway. An older version of me would have waited until I self-analyzed to death and figured out the precise reason why promoting my book feels so icky. I hate that it feels icky. I don’t want it to feel icky. But instead of trying and trying to figure out why that is, I’m going to just start running in the opposite direction of my discomfort, feel the fear, and talk about the book anyway.At that same event I mentioned in the beginning, an incredible woman said something I’ll never forget.While telling me about her new affirmation cards, Chantha Thach said, “They’re magic.” She kept talking about the deck with the group we were chatting with. I interrupted a few moments later.“Did you just call your cards magic?”She confirmed. She did. I told her how much I loved hearing a woman confidently describe her own creation that way. I told her that I wished I could be that confident about my book.I’m working on it. I’ll get there. For now, I’ll repeat that statistic to myself. For a Pisces, I actually really like data. Less than 0.1% of the global population will ever write a book. Not publish — write.I am part of that 0.1% I’m a published author. I wrote a goddamn book. And it’s high time I celebrate. PS It’s 22% until Sunday! This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit thenuancediaries.substack.com/subscribe

This is less of a speech, more of a pep talk, and really — just some reflections from someone coming up on their 10-year college reunion who feels like graduation was just yesterday.Instead of picturing me on a podium in regalia, let’s pretend I’m sitting next to you on the floor of your dorm as you pack up your things, or sitting across from you at brunch after graduation, or in the backseat of the car on your drive back home, or wherever life is taking you next post-college.To the Class of 2026,The day after I graduated from college, I didn’t get out of bed until 5 PM.I wasn’t sleeping. I wasn’t watching TV.I barely texted anyone. I was just scrolling through my Instagram feed and well…lying there completely exhausted.The only reason I got up was to get dinner at a pizza place that no longer exists with a friend I stopped talking to a few years later.It would probably shock my 22-year-old self to read these words, about losing touch with that friend, not the pizza place closing.As a native New Yorker, I’m all too familiar with favorite restaurants, coffee shops, and bookstores closing down. My favorite Barnes and Noble on 86th and Lex is now a Target. The benches by the magazine section where I spent countless hours pouring through glossy pages, have now been replaced with a homeware section.I once leafed through a magazine in that very Barnes and Noble, with a cover highlighting a Hollywood actress and her “hard-won happiness.” That phrase always stuck with me.At the time, I probably didn’t have the self-awareness to admit I was far from truly happy. I did know that I liked the idea of describing happiness as “hard-won.” Those two words made me feel instantly seen and validated, as someone who used to secretly roll her eyes when people talked about waking up happy in the morning, with an easy-breezy feeling that I was convinced only exists in fairy tales.The summer after graduation, I moved to Portland for an acting program, hated it, and came back to New York with no idea what I was going to do next. I eventually landed a role in an incredible new play at La MaMa, after originally inquiring about being the stage manager’s assistant. It was an amazing experience. I was featured in the New York Times. Everything was going according to plan.But it turns out, I didn’t love the life of a working actor as much as I thought I would. I started working as a temp receptionist at many Manhattan offices and ended up writing a play while at my desk.I wouldn’t realize that I wanted to be a playwright for a few more years, though. I spent too much money doing things I didn’t enjoy, with people I didn’t have a lot in common with, trying to keep up with the “New York scene.” I look back, and I really don’t like what those “friends” brought out in me, but if you’d asked me at the time, I would have told you that I had a great community. I constantly hustled for my self-worth, and was so busy trying to prove myself to everyone that I could barely enjoy success when it came.I co-directed the same play that I starred in as a fourth grader at my elementary school (Charlotte’s Web) and found more joy working with kids than I’d had in years - even though if I knew I wasn’t meant to be a teacher long-term. Those kids are now in high school, close to entering college themselves (which feels impossible, because they were 9 and learning how to spell just yesterday).(I’m 31, and I still feel like I’m learning how to spell.)We used to dance across the floor to this song called Shine during warm-ups, in a dance class I took in college. I’ve loved it ever since. It goes,Here's where you lose your mindThe water here's divineYou're doing just fineSo, come on, darlingOh, don’t you want to shine?I’m not always sure of what it means to shine. These days, I’m less interested in sparkly, shiny perfection. I do love the heat of the lights in a theater. And the brilliance of the sun, when I’m on a walk listening to a podcast. The verb “shine” is defined in the Oxford American Dictionary as “give out a bright light” or “direct (a flashlight or other light) somewhere to see something in the dark.”When I was in your position, I just wanted all the answers to everything. I was longing for someone farther along than me to pull me out of the darkness and guide me through the murkiness of adulthood, straight into the light. I wanted to shine, and I wanted someone to tell me exactly how to do so. I was adamantly convinced that someone could give me “all the answers.”It took me an entire decade of searching, but I now finally know that no one has those answers I once craved.No one knows everything. And most importantly —No one knows more about you than you.So while I certainly can’t give you any answers, what I will tell you is this —I still fall into the trap of thinking everyone is doing better than me. I literally sometimes walk down the street and make up stories about how complete strangers are happier than I am.I often wonder what strangers might think about me, as they pass me by or catch my gaze. Do they make up stories about why I’m happier than they are? Do they assume that I’m sad, because they’re sad? I wonder what version of me exists in their heads.I think about the version of me that exists in my head; how I somehow know myself best and still often assume the worst.I often contemplate how we can tell truer stories about ourselves, or at least re-examine the ones that we’re telling.Who do you say you are? Who do you think you are? Who are you really?I’m the lady waving at kids on the bus and petting dogs in the elevator.I’m the girl curled up in bed watching a bad TV show I can’t get enough of. It’s somehow the only thing that turns my brain off these days.I’m the girl who watched almost ten seasons of Grey’s Anatomy in one week in college when I skipped all of my classes because I was too depressed to get out of bed.I’m the girl who has a hard time relaxing and has convinced herself that all of her worth in this world is tied to what she can do for other people.I’m the girl who’s trying to unlearn that.I am convinced that tacos can solve anything and that you can’t be upset while watching Legally Blonde.I am convinced that I can do anything with enough coffee.I am convinced there are greater things ahead of me than behind me.I am convinced there are greater things ahead of you than behind you.I hope you know I’m rooting for you, even when you’re feeling lost or you think you’ve ruined everything.I’m especially on your side when it seems like everyone has it figured out except you.Whether you’re sad, anxious, excited, hopeful, or something in between as you enter “the real world” post-graduation, I have a feeling it’s all going to turn out quite differently than you can plan or expect.You never know what’s coming in the next chapter. Even when you’re convinced that you do.As Taylor Jenkins Reid wrote in Daisy Jones and The Six,“Don't count yourself out this early, Daisy. You're all sorts of things you don't even know yet.”You are all sorts of things you don’t even know yet.This is just the start.Congratulations. Go rest and celebrate. You deserve it!The above was adapted from the introduction to my book, The Start of It All.BUY MY BOOKSUBSCRIBE BOOK A SESSION LEAVE A TIP This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit thenuancediaries.substack.com/subscribe

Subscribe to The Nuance Diaries on SubstackBuy my book Book a session + Check out client testimonials I’m going to list out some different kinds of people. I’ll tell you what they all have in common in a second— but you can guess first for fun if you want.* People with chronic illness* People with PTSD* People with Complex PTSD* Trauma Survivors of any kind* Disabled people (physical and/or mental)* Parents* Caregivers* People who are grieving* People who don’t have housekeepers* People who don’t have laundry in their building* Eating Disorder survivors who love or hate meal prep* People who commute* People who work from home* Astronauts* Oil pastel artists* Toddlers who are teethingDid you guess? Ready to hear the answer?Time moves differently in each and every one of their lives.Someone doing a Broadway show has a different 24 hours in a day than someone working on a cruise.ER doctors have a different 24 hours than podiatrists.Our lives are all different. It may sound redundant, but it’s true.This simple fact bears repeating, every time a stranger tries to tell me I have the same 24 hours as Beyoncé.I do not have the same 24 hours as Beyoncé, and shedoes not have the same 24 hours as me!At no point during her 24 hours can she run to the corner and buy a banana on a crowded New York City block.At no point during my 24 hours can I outsource all the household tasks and life admin that take time away from my career.We have different privileges. Our lives are designed differently.I consider it a privilege to go wherever I want without paparazzi.Beyoncé gets the privilege of being Queen B and performing all of our favorite songs, running an empire, using her wealth for good, and being a goddess, diva, and cowgirl all in one.God, I love BeyoncéI digress.I do not have the same 24 hours in a day as BeyoncéNeither do you.And that’s okay.Stop shaming yourself into accomplishing more or using your time more constructively, or whatever it is you’re doing to yourself when you tell the lie that you have the same 24 hours a day as everyone else.You’re not lazy. You’re not deficient. You’re doing your best with the resources available to you and the energy in your body.Maybe use a few minutes inside your 24 hours to remind yourself of that today.I myself am going to use a few minutes of my 24 hours to listen to some Beyoncé.Further Reading/Listening: My ancestor's wildest dream is me doing dishes listening to Beyoncé This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit thenuancediaries.substack.com/subscribe

Have you read Part 1, Part 2, and Part 3? If not, I recommend doing so!So, what does a girl do after the worst panic attack of her life leads to a broken mug, a surprising amount of clarity, and a new song?She stays up all night so that she won’t miss her early morning flight, and then takes her first flight in forever to Missouri, for her middle school bestie’s wedding.It was absolutely beautiful. I cried a lot.While I was on the trip, I got a lead on an even better opportunity than the new temporary job I was originally excited about back in Part 1.That fall, between the new gig(s) and some unexpected money, I was able to start paying off my credit card debt.Suddenly, I could afford to go to happy hour with my friends again. We came in second place at Broadway trivia.I had energy again. I started having fun again.I came super close to falling in love, but got my heart broken instead.I saw Dylan Mulvaney’s epic solo show three times. I told her about the guy who broke my heart. She said he sounded like a coward. I can’t help but agree. She also inspired the name, The Nuance Diaries, and I got to tell her about that, too.I went viral on Substack again, with another essay referencing - but not about - Taylor Swift.I developed a multi-step skin care routine, which I have now fallen off of (but I don’t feel too bad about it because the girls at Sephora are always gagged when I tell them I’m 31.)All the while, I kept the broken mug. To this day, I am still fascinated by it. It feels like a relic from the dark age I’d survived.And yet, when Lunar New Year came around, and I read that broken glass was bad luck, I knew that it was time to part with the broken mug for good.I took a few last pictures - and even traced the handle to make an abstract drawing.I also broke it even more before throwing it out — for catharsis. I couldn’t find my hammer, so I used the handle of a screwdriver 😂Ironically, as I was finishing this piece, I came across even more broken glass; a container of leftovers slipped out of the refrigerator and onto the floor. The glass shards looked so much like ice, scattered among spaghetti noodles and marinara sauce. I was once again fascinated.I thought about taking a picture of the icy shards in the dustpan. I wondered what symbolism this moment might hold — another sign about the beauty of broken things?Maybe. Probably. Who am I to fight the alchemy?And then I thought,Is there such a thing as too much alchemy?I swept the glass away and threw it out.I used to listen to a song called Broken Glass all the time when I was living in Portland, Oregon. Another wild chapter. A story for another time.The first week or so I was there, I took this very dramatic walk over a highway every day, to get my coffee from a Starbucks inside a huge grocery store.Was there a closer coffee shop? Probably. Could I have found something similar to (or better than) my cinnamon dolce latte? Definitely. But that’s not the choice I made at 22 years old.I was living across the country by myself for the very first time. It somehow felt scarier than being in London by myself. I needed my familiar comforts — like cinnamon dolce lattes.(My therapist also totally validated this for me years later. I had a panic attack after Trader Joe’s was out of my favorite creamer for 3 days. She said it was because one of the few constants in my life was ripped away. Yes, I was going through it.)I feel like the universe sent me all kinds of signs through my favorite songs, inside that grocery store with the Starbucks. Whoever made those weekday morning playlists had excellent taste.But on the way to the grocery store, I was the DJ. And every morning, like clockwork, I played Broken Glass by Rachel Platten.There was something so 90s music video about crossing a highway while blasting the lyrics “I’m on a highway full of red lights.”But I feel it changing. I can taste it,I’m on the wave, I won’t waste itI have been patient, but I’m not waiting anymoreI’m gonna dance on broken glassI’m gonna make that ceiling crackSo what? still got knives in my back. So what? So I’m tied to the tracksI’m gonna dance on broken glass. Here I go, here I goYou know what’s crazy? I have probably listened to that song over 100 times in the last decade, and it has only just now occurred to me that the broken glass is from the glass ceiling she’s going to crash.What other glass would she be referring to, Alexa??I don’t know!!! I guess I was too stuck on the symbolism of dancing on broken glass to connect it to a literally cracked glass ceiling mentioned one line later. I was an A+ English nerd, but I was also 22.I think the broken mug marked the beginning of my dancing on broken glass era.After the hardest year of my life, I was remarkably broken and yet still intact.Both/and.I have come a damn long way, and I am unbelievably proud of how I carried myself through the last year — the last few years, honestly.And for the first time in maybe 17 months,I have enough white space in my brain and ground beneath my feet to think about what comes next.What do I want? What do I want to happen? Who do I want to be?What I’ve been through is part of my story, but not all of it.I’m ready to add some more notches to my belt, beyond damn tough survivor and broken glass dancer.There’s this invisible step at the end of the list, outside the traditional trajectory of healing.You get through the hard thing. You realize you’re a survivor. You get to breathe again.And then…You let yourself want things again.You do things for fun again.You dream big dreams again.You take risks again.You learn to trust yourself again.I’m doing all of that now.It feels like a reunion with myself. An unapologetic, wilder yet calmer version of myself.I’m not that 22-year-old girl walking across a highway in Northeast Portland.Nor am I the 29-year-old who spent one weekend in San Diego before uprooting her whole life to live by the beach.I’m not the 30-year-old woman who fought tooth and nail for her sanity (and often lost the battle) while making financial sacrifices she never thought she’d have to make.To the shock of the girls at Sephora who tell me I look much younger — I’m 31.And while my past selves will always be with me…It’s time to thank them and sweep up the broken glass they broke through to get me here.Cheers to beginning anew, entering the next chapter of my life, and finding out just how good it can get.Thank you so much for checking out this series!I hope you’ll hit subscribe, stick around, and stay tuned for what’s next.And if you yourself could use some support in figuring out what’s next, I’m always here to chat.SUBSCRIBE | BOOK A SESSION | BUY MY BOOK Here's a testimonial from one of my past clients: Prior to beginning life coaching with Alexa, I had a full-time job in healthcare IT where I experienced a lack of meaning in my interactions with clients. At that point, had been teaching yoga after work for several years, and found myself wanting to pursue it more seriously. This was right as I was beginning to experience a stronger desire to travel, something I had not done much of previously.By the time I completed my coaching with Alexa, we created a clear plan for leaving my IT job, combining yoga teaching and travel for the span of one year through work exchange programs at various resorts, and all the steps in between.As that year of travel has now come to a close, I realize I could not have done it without Alexa’s coaching. The year that we planned together was the best year of my life, and I am so grateful to have had the space to dream and plan it out.-Marc This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit thenuancediaries.substack.com/subscribe

A week or so ago, a new subscriber told me that the following piece really resonated with them.The sentiment behind that piece has never felt truer, and these reflections came from the same chamber of my heart as that piece did.I saw the Wild Party on Sunday night. It was indeed a wild, wild party. It was so good and so intense. Earlier that day, I watched another intense performance — Hippolytus (in the arms of Aphrodite), an immersive augmented reality theatre experience. I’ve seen countless exceptional performances at CultureHub, where I’m on the board, and this one was no different. On the way home, when my Sunday of theater was over, I speed walked to my subway station in the rain, so I wouldn’t have to wait 15 more minutes for the next one. It was then that I realized how sore my ankles were after 2+ miles of walking all day + jump roping that morning.I got home, had some leftover macaroni and cheese, and fell asleep after watching 3 hours of Golden Girls. But not before reading about the plane that collided with a fire truck at LaGuardia upon landing.You think you’re about to be safe and sound, and then just like that, the ground is ripped out from beneath you.I woke up and stretched a little. I check the news and can’t stop myself from watching the video of a woman being detained by ICE at SFO. I learn that they’re apparently coming to New York, too.I start puttering around my house, washing my face, brushing my teeth, and making coffee. I feel off. I’m judging myself for that feeling of offness. Why do I feel so down, so lethargic? I have got to get it together.I’m reminded of how I kept on working when I heard about the January 6th insurrection. I was in a consultation when it happened. My phone was buzzing uncontrollably when I turned it back on. I turned on the news and watched in horror as I continued to send emails.Here I am, five years later, watching more horrors and sending more emails.I am not hopeless — but I also won’t pretend to have all the answers.What I do know is that I feel better when I feel less alone.Sitting with all of my feelings, and all of these atrocities, I was reminded of something that Andrea Gibson said on the We Can Do Hard Things podcast.“I have spent my entire career encouraging people to have their feelings.Don’t push down your feelings. Open up to them all. That is where, in my experience, like I would have, if I would get depressed, I could, and I know this, and I don’t want to negate the fact of clinical depression and meds, all of that, I’m pro-meds.But I would get more depressed if there was something I wasn’t allowing myself to feel. And I thought, I am allowing myself to have all my feelings. Why aren’t I fucking happy?And I realized that the feeling I was pushing down was joy. That I was afraid of that feeling. And there were a certain number of things that led to that.And some of it was how I was relating to our culture, how I was relating to activism, growing up in activist communities, and thinking that if you weren’t devastated, if you weren’t despairing, if you weren’t enraged, then there was something about you that was heartless.And some people respond to the world in really vibrant ways because they’re furious or because they’re grieving.For me, I am much better, and I have far more to offer the world when I am joyful.” Andrea Gibson I, too, hope to look back at my life and say I spent my entire career encouraging people to have their feelings.I am furious and heartbroken beyond measure for every single individual being affected by this monstrosity of an “administration.” Families crying both inside and outside these detention centers have been senselessly ripped apart.I finally started reading Kamala Harris’ memoir, 107 Days, yesterday at one of my favorite Italian restaurants, between plays. I want to be at an Italian restaurant in Italy. I want Kamala Harris to be the President. I want Donald Trump to go back to being a punchline in sitcoms.Lorelai: It’s the title search for the Rachel property. And guess who owns it!Sookie: Tell me it’s not that bastard Donald Trump.Gilmore Girls, Season 2, Episode 8, 2001.There’s no grand moral here. There never is.Tell someone how you’re feeling today. Share this piece. Leave a ‘like’ or comment for a stranger. Text a friend that you love them, and you’re thinking of them.Do as the incomparable Corinne Bailey Rae says, and ‘put your records on.’Call your senators, and then order your favorite takeout.And maybe check out this song. It’s quickly become my anthem for these times. It truly feels like Elton and Brandi are singing directly to me every time. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit thenuancediaries.substack.com/subscribe

Have you listened to Part 1 and Part 2 yet? If not, start there!Broken things have long been romanticized in humanity’s search for renewal and redemption. The Japanese art of kintsugi is probably my favorite example.""KINSUGI" literary means gold (金 KIN) stitching (つぎ TSUGI) in Japanese. It is a Japanese art form of mending broken porcelain with lacquer (URUSHI), dusted with gold, or silver. The broken object gets revived with gold patches.The broken part is truly accepted and cherished as a history of the object, a form of art, rather than getting disguised with immaculate repairing. With Kintsugi, the broken object gets transformed into a unique piece of art. It becomes more beautiful and more attractive than ever." - Azumi Uchitani Yet broken glass is also sharp. There are big shards that are easier to avoid getting scraped by. And there are also tiny little pieces that remain long after you’ve swept up a broken measuring cup or wine glass. You won’t realize the tiny little shards are there until you step on one a few days later, just when you thought the floor beneath you was clean and clear.Broken things can be beautiful.Perhaps the sharpness and messiness are part of that beauty.But first, there’s shock and blood. The pressing of a towel or paper towel or whatever is nearest, against your gaping new wound. The band-aid is tasked with keeping your flesh together as it heals.I’ve only had stitches once, and the scar is gone. I think the actual experience of riding to the hospital with a wad of paper towels against my hand was scarier than the ordeal of getting the stitches themselves. At least when I got the stitches, I knew that I was being mended. I was literally on my way to healing.And that’s where I found myself at the end of my panic attack, broken mug ordeal.After staring at the broken mug for quite a while, I got a latte from my neighborhood coffee shop and sat on a rock in Central Park.I hadn’t planned to — but I felt compelled to finish that song I started a day ago on the train home from Brooklyn (see pt. 1 if you forgot about that detail!)I do not think I have ever written a song that quickly in my life.It’s called The Waves Are Calling. And it is my *broken hallelujah.*For those unfamiliar with the phrase, it originates from the Leonard Cohen song “Hallelujah.” We sang it in my high school chorus, back when I was a far cry from a broken hallelujah myself.Many, many artists have covered it, using a different selection of verses from the original in their renditions. You might have first heard it in Shrek.I’ve always longed for someone to see me; to examine the mismatched pieces of my soul, hold them up in the light, and sing a broken hallelujah.I now realize that that day I became that person myself.I saw that broken mug, I saw its beauty.And I saw myself in the broken pieces, and realized that my brokenness might be beautiful too.Subscribe so that you don't miss the fourth and final part, where you'll find out what life has been like since the broken glass/ broken hallelujah era began.SUBSCRIBE HEREIt’s not a cry that you hear at nightIt’s not somebody who’s seen the lightIt’s a cold, and it’s a broken hallelujah-Hallelujah, Leonard Cohen This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit thenuancediaries.substack.com/subscribe

If you haven’t listened Part 1 yet, go ahead and do that first, HERE. ______________________________While my memories from the night of the panic attack are sparse, the ones from the following morning are vividly clear.I woke up thinking I had Covid. I felt like I had been hit by a truck ten times over in my sleep.I tried to shake it off and get ready for work, but my body made it very clear that that wasn’t going to happen. Calling in sick felt humiliating and unprofessional (although it is neither of those things, and I would never make anyone else feel that way).But I did it. I relayed detailed notes for an important delivery that afternoon. I profusely apologized. I hung up the phone.Before going back to sleep, I stumbled to the kitchen to grab some water. Why I didn’t go to the bathroom like I often do, I don’t know. That day, my feet carried me to the kitchen.I thought about making coffee and then decided against it. I saw the dishes in my sink and decided to wash some. For what reason, I don’t know.While sorting through the sink to discern which dishes would go in the dishwasher and which would be hand-washed, I came across one of my favorite mugs.And I broke it. I somehow broke my mug while pulling it out of the sink.My perfect, “pretty girl avenue”, gorgeous glass mug with a bronze/gold Barbie dream house on the front, and a pink handle. The mug I drank out of nearly every day from my waterfront patio when I lived in San Diego.Broken. Gone.I love my mugs. They’re the first thing I unpacked in both my New York and San Diego apartments. I dream of displaying them on a big, elaborate shelf one day. I should have been devastated that this mug was broken.But I wasn’t, I was too tired to be devastated. I haphazardly placed the broken pieces of the mug on my counter and went back to bed.I woke up at noon feeling much better, even better than I felt the day before, pre - panic attack.In fact, I felt better than I’d felt in a long time. I felt so good that I now understood just how far down in the trenches I’d been.When I tried my first dose of Lexapro years prior, I remember saying to my psychiatrist, “Wow, I had no idea that everyone wasn’t miserable all the time! I thought everyone woke up feeling horrible and trying to get through the day, and just wanting to die inside all the time, and that no one talked about it. I thought that was normal. This is so great!”10mg of Lexapro was all it took to realize just how depressed I was.(The psychiatrist upped my dose after that session, and then later added in my best buddy welbutrin. The golden trio was complete. Thank God for medicine.)When we think about feeling ‘better’, we often imagine a certain stillness; waves, sunsets, and the gentle breeze of it all.But sometimes when really good things happen, people get anxious – people like me.I’ll never know exactly what triggered that panic attack, but my working theory is that a lot of good things happened in a relatively short amount of time after a truly shitty year, and my brain couldn’t compute it all.It’s like my whole being literally short-circuited from the radical shift from A Series of Unfortunate Events to “girl who is going to be okay.”So there I am, feeling better, feeling rested. I get out of bed and decide to go for a walk.I walk out of my bedroom and immediately spot the broken mug.And now that I’m feeling better, I have the energy to be sad that it’s broken.I’m about to do what I usually do with broken glass, and put it in a plastic bag with a piece of paper taped on top that says “broken broken broken broken” so that no one gets hurt in my recycling room.But as I go to do that, I’m drawn in by how the mug has broken, and also not broken.It’s far easier to explain through the videos and photos I took that day.CLICK HERE to see! So it was just one layer. I thought it was just a thick piece of glass. But now that it broke, there’s this inner part that’s whole outside of the glass. And now it exists on its own, because it broke away from the outer shell part. How does something break so perfectly? That’s insane to me.It’s all still pretty insane to me.You have to remember that at the time that this is all happening, I don’t have the fifty-foot view. I don’t have the gifts of hindsight and a really wide lens.I’m just a girl marveling at her broken yet beautiful mug.In that moment, I was immediately reminded of the Japanese art of kintsugi, which involves repairing broken pottery with gold lacquer to highlight the cracks instead of hiding them.A week later, when I told my therapist about this whole ordeal, she asked if I had seen K-POP Demon Hunters, the widely acclaimed, academy award winning (!!!!!) animated feature film.I immediately responded, “We broke into a million pieces, and we can’t go back/ But now we’re seeing all the beauty in the broken glass?”She smiled and nodded.Here I was, literally seeing beauty in the broken glass.This precious thing I was trying to hold onto broke in an inexplicably beautiful way.It’s not what I planned. It’s not what I wanted.But here I was with my own tangible proof of the beauty in broken things, right when I needed it most. Right after the most painful chapters of my life so far.Here I was, on my way to my broken hallelujah.Wondering how we’re only halfway through?We’re on the way to the broken hallelujah, but not there just yet.Subscribe so that you don’t miss Part III!How To Connect With MeBook a Coaching SessionRead my book The Start of It AllDownload my workbook, Authentic by AlexaLicense one of my playsHow to Support My WorkBecome a Paid Subscriber | Leave A Tip This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit thenuancediaries.substack.com/subscribe

On the eve of the lunar new year, three days before my birthday, I finally threw out the jagged glass pieces of a mug that I had broken six months ago.I never thought it would take me six months to throw out a reminder of one of the worst nights of my life, but here I was.I held it in my hands one last time.I took a few pictures (even though I already had plenty.)I outlined the pink handle and some of the remaining pieces that were still intact with a charcoal pencil on my tracing pad, in case I wanted to create an art project later. (I’ve been super into Oil Pastels lately.)I carefully put the broken pieces in a plastic bag.I broke the mug even further — deliberately this time, for catharsis.And then I let every last piece go.I can tell you why that broken mug was one of my favorites in one sentence —Because it’s perfect.It’s the definition of “pretty girl avenue”: a gorgeous glass mug with a bronze/gold Barbie dream house on the front, and a perfect pink handle. I drank out of it nearly every day from my waterfront patio in San Diego.It also came in a set of two. I still have the other, identical, unbroken mug.So why keep the broken one for six months?Because of how it broke.Here are a few things that happened in the 24 - 48 hours before the broken mug incident.Taylor Swift got engaged, and my corner of the internet exploded.I somehow managed to not to scream at the reception desk I was temping at, when my best friend’s sister texted me the news. It was the biggest explosion of girlhood. My fifteen-year-old self was bursting at the seams.I wrote a spontaneous Substack piece about Taylor’s engagement, which went kind of viral thanks to threads.It was easily my most successful post in over a year. (You can read it here.) I landed on the Substack rising bestseller list. I welcomed many new followers on Threads and Substack. My phone was buzzing nonstop with comments from people resonating with what I wrote + general excitement.I was offered a new temp job that had serious potential to lead to something long-term.It ended up not working out, which is fine because I didn’t really want the actual job— I wanted the consistent income. But the possibility of it at the time was very exciting. (Want to hear something even more exciting? I ended up getting multiple gigs that I liked more, that paid even MORE than the temp gig.)My middle school bestie’s wedding was days away.I was excited, and perhaps a little anxious. I was staying with an incredibly generous friend of hers, whom I had never met before. I knew that I likely wouldn’t know a lot of people there. I also hadn’t been out of New York since last December, after a year of whirlwind travel to and from California.I had a bit of breathing room, financially, after being strapped for almost a year. Most of that money came from selling Hollywood Bowl tickets to see Jesus Christ Superstar. I was absolutely heartbroken, and I knew it was the right call. The tickets sold at the last minute, at a profit. I made my money back and then some. It was the biggest win I’d had in a pretty long time.So, that’s what was happening on the surface. Under the surface, though?The hardest summer of my life was finally coming to an end.The summer I accepted money from a friend to afford my antidepressant medications.The summer I paid for my groceries with $6 worth of quarters, from the AMC Elphaba Popcorn bucket where I stored tips from a toxic service job that I quit in the Spring.The summer I had some of the worst depression I hope I’ll ever have to endure.And after all that, here I was jumping up and down over Taylor Swift’s engagement, with money in my bank account, and tangible success to point to in my writing career when people asked the inevitable “so what do you do?” at the wedding.With all of these good things circling me, I think my nervous system got the memo that I could finally breathe.Enter: Panic Attack. Center Stage.Like always — everything was fine until it wasn’t.I spent the day manning the receptionist desk of a very cool, creative ad agency in Brooklyn, where I had been working for the last two-ish weeks. It was the kind of place where I might have an insanely busy hour or two, but most of the day was pretty chill. It was August in New York City, after all; the entire office was empty half the week.I do remember being pretty overstimulated the afternoon before this panic attack. It was one of those days where everyone seemed to be congregating in the kitchen and its surrounding areas (my ‘deskspace’) nonstop. Think three conversations happening at once, lots of footsteps from the hardwood floor above, the sporadic ding-dong chime of the intercom to alert me of deliveries, and of course — someone telling me that the music in the bathroom was a spidge too loud.Side note — I’ve learned from temping a lot that every office has its thing; that unexplainable thing that no one questions because it’s just part of the culture, even though that ‘thing’ makes no sense to an outsider. Sometimes it’s a very specific ratio of snacks, or the volume of music in the bathroom, or the kind of music in the bathroom, or the way they greet visitors. Other times, it’s the extra set of copies that one particular gift officer needs for the donations she’s processing, even though no one else wants their own personal set of copies. True story. I’m sure this lovely woman had her reasons for having her personal set of copies. She was actually a staff member in an office I worked in for a whole month. I wrote her a thank-you note when I left, because she and her team were so nice to me.I can’t pinpoint overstimulation as the reason for my panic attack, though — as a New Yorker, I’m likely to be overstimulated once a day, even from my own apartment.I remember being tired on the way home from the office. I remember pulling out my phone as the train crossed the water from Brooklyn to Manhattan. I wrote the following lyrics. They kind of came out of thin air.Who I had to be to be with youIs who I am no longerWe had some good times, but now it’s timeI start running furtherYou and I were standing stillThe water’s fine and even stillThe waves are calling, so I won’t be calling you anymoreBy the time I got home, I was still tired but now also deeply uneasy.All I wanted to do was shower, get horizontal, and watch The Summer I Turned Pretty.I didn’t feel better after my shower, or even after lying down in the dark and listening to ASMR. I somehow felt worse.I didn’t immediately realize I was having a panic attack. As is the case with all of my panic attacks, my first thought was “I’m gonna die.”Not a single thing I did helped. It felt like my apartment had turned into an endlessly rocking ship that I couldn’t steer to shore. I couldn’t get steady no matter what I tried. My legs felt so shaky — my feet in particular. I would’ve sworn that they were vibrating.I sat, paced, and at times even shook. I lay on the floor with my legs against the wall. I took another shower, I think, and drank a lot of water. I couldn’t get myself to eat a full meal. Eventually, I curled up in my weighted blanket and finally, finally fell asleep.I don’t fully remember every detail of that harrowing night, but my memories from the following morning are vividly clear.That’s when the mug broke.Subscribe so that you don’t miss Part II! This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit thenuancediaries.substack.com/subscribe

Happy Pisces Season. Happy New Year. Happy Ramadan. Happy Lent. Happy Lunar Eclipse.And happy “my birthday is in two days!”I wrote this song (which can also be read as a poem) almost exactly a year ago 2/26/25, around 2 AM. I had just turned 30. Here I am, about to be 31.I could ramble on quite a bit about how much I like this song, and how surprised I was to revisit it after a full year of, quite honestly, forgetting about it. I could talk about how, even though it’s Pisces season, I think my Scorpio moon had her hands in this one quite a bit.But I think right now I just want to share it and leave everything up to interpretation, and go back to what I was originally writing when I unexpectedly came across this forgotten gem.Transcript available here! https://wildcozyfree.substack.com This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit thenuancediaries.substack.com/subscribe

“Cause not everything means something honey/ so say the unsayable/ say the most human of things.”Transcript at https://thenuancediaries.substack.com This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit thenuancediaries.substack.com/subscribe

**Part 2 available at https://thenuancediaries.substack.com - embedded in this post.Hi.I did something I’ve only done twice before.I hit record and start talking.And then I hit publish.You can listen to Part 1 above, and Part 2 below (embedded.)And then you can go listen to this song from a few months back.It’s such a cheesy saying — love and light.But I am genuinely sending you as much love and light as I can humanely muster.Talk soon,AlexaPS If you believe in any kind of higher power, please send out some prayers for my aunt’s health. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit thenuancediaries.substack.com/subscribe

I want to tell you a story. It is 2018, and I am a recent college graduate.I’m 23 years old. My high school best friend and I decide to take a little trip to Montreal. We’ve never been. It seems like a really fun idea. She knows French. It felt like a cool thing to do. And we’re in New York City, so it’s a short flight.We get on the plane early in the morning. It’s a very full flight. Boarding was hectic. I remember it being really hard to get our overhead storage and throw things in. Whatever, it was a short flight.We arrive in Montreal, and it’s still very early. Maybe 8 AM. We get to customs, and we’re about to show our passports to the gate person. And I can’t find mine. I can’t find my passport.And I know I have it, because I wouldn’t have been allowed on the plane without it. They checked our passports coming into the airport in New York, and then again at the gate. I know I have it. I got on the plane with this passport. I know that. But I don’t have it now. I don’t have my passport.I’ll remind you again that it is 2018 and I am an African American woman. Trump had just been elected during the fall semester of my senior year at Vassar, which I wrote about here. It’s 2018, and we are two years into Trump’s first administration and I am an African American woman in a different country than I was born in without my passport. I am losing my shit. I am having what I now know is a panic attack. My friend, thankfully, was able to keep it together and made sure that I had WhatsApp installed on my phone so that we could communicate after she went through customs and I went back to the plane to look for my passport. I don’t even really remember the gate number where we got deplaned, but I’m just sprinting through the airport with my carry-on, and I’m probably crying at this point, too.When I finally find the gate, I’m told that they’ve searched and cleaned the plane. I can’t go look myself. And now I’m really freaking out. I’m walking back when an airport worker comes by with one of those big carts—the ones for luggage or people with disabilities. He offers me a ride back to customs. I’m a sweaty, bawling mess. I keep chanting, “They’re going to deport me. They’re going to deport me. I don’t have a passport—they’re going to deport me.”This very kind Canadian airport worker asks, “Where are you from?”“New York.”“So, why would we deport you? Where would we deport you?” “Africa, obviously.“Huh??”He tells me his daughter lives in New York. He’s trying to distract me because I’m hysterical, and he’s doing his best to just be this gentle, lovely Canadian man. It works, but only a little bit.When I get back to customs, my friend is waiting for me. I’m given a slip of paper and sent to the customs office to sort things out.At the office, they ask me questions. Everything is above board, all in public—I’m not taken into any backrooms, thankfully. I’m sent to the help desk to see if my passport has turned up.We haven’t even gotten our luggage yet—we’re just running around looking for my passport.And do you know what the guy at the desk says, when I give him my name? “Oh, there you are! Yeah, we found it. We tried to call you. You didn’t answer. Here it is.” They’d found it while cleaning the plane and had been calling me ever since. But I hadn’t answered because I was running around convinced I was about to be deported.It was the best moment of my life.In the same breath, the guy says, “The baggage is still coming out. They might have lost some of the bags.”I couldn’t have cared less about my bags. They could’ve thrown my bags in the ocean for all I care. The trip was lovely. It was also freezing. But lovely. And on the flight back to New York a couple of days later, I practically caressed my passport the entire time.I used to joke that the moral of this story is: if you’re going to lose your passport, do it in Canada because they’re very nice.And yet now on January 98th, 2026, I’m just as afraid of being kidnapped and sent away to God knows where when I’m taking the subway, in the city where I was born. I woke up to a text from a friend that essentially said “If you don’t want to see the shit storm going on, don’t check social media.” And I was like, yeah, no shit. So I checked.Don Lemon has been arrested, along with Trahern Jeen Crews, Georgia Fort, and Jamael Lydell Lundy.That hit really hard. I’m afraid for all of them. I’m afraid for Don, as a Black gay man. I’m scared for all of the journalists, out there.I’m scared for Liam Ramos. I’m scared for the families who have watched their loved ones be killed.And.I’m finally afraid for myself.I feel relatively safe in the confines of my neighborhood. I lull myself to sleep with the false promise of safety that a double-locked door, a doorman, and an elite zip code provide.I try not to think about what would happen if I got kidnapped while babysitting. But I do.I think about whether or not the child in my care would understand the gravity of the situation. I wonder if I’d convince him to run, or just pick him up.I mostly fear what would happen if ICE took me, and left him alone on the streets of New York, or even in the subway. A child with no wallet, no phone, who has just watched his babysitter get kidnapped, would be tasked with finding his own way home.As chilling as this scenario is, it’s far better than the one where they keep us together, and take us both. I have hope that a kind stranger would help him find his way home. I trust strangers far more than the monsters pretending that they’re protecting us, aka ICE.I think about what kind of facility I’d be taken to. I wonder how long I could survive without food and water, instead of forcing myself to eat food with worms and all other kinds of debris in it.I wonder if I would be able to interact with the children separated from their parents, and cuddle them close.I wonder if my kidnapping would cause public outcry. I wonder how long it would take for people to know that I was gone.I wonder if I’d be released before my 31st birthday. I wonder if they have calendars in those detention centers.I wonder if I’d be physically and sexually abused, or if the guards would just stick to verbal, emotional, and racial abuse.I wonder how many times I’d be called the n word before lunch.Maybe I’d die of frostbite, laying on a cold, damp floor somewhere.Maybe I’d stain myself with my menstrual blood, and be told to take a Tylenol.Maybe I’d dissociate and drift off somewhere far away to ease the pain.Maybe I’d replay Heated Rivalry on loop in my head.And hum ‘No Place Like Home’ and the soundtrack of Ragtime.Would my ancestors be with me? Would they come to me in some way, to help me through?If I’m kidnapped wearing the beaded bracelet made to remember my Aunt Eileen by, would they let me keep it? Or take it, like they took Liam Ramos’ bunny hat?Would they rip the beads off my wrist, just for fun? And laugh as I cried?I wear one that says “worthy.” I think about getting that word tattooed on my risk one day, to remind myself of my worth.Will I forget my worth, in the company of people who think of me as 3/5 of a human being?The same “men” who parade around kidnapping people, were probably inspired by the texts sent to black women in the days after the 2024 election, stating that we’d been selected for cotton picking shifts.I watched The Handmaid’s Tale for a week after the 2024 election. I told myself I was preparing myself for what was to come.Wasn’t I?I recently saw a quote that said something like “the worst kind of slavery is…” and the answer was something like the prison of your mind or something.And I thought to myself, well isn’t the worst kind of slavery, slavery?Plantations. Concentration Camps. Detention Centers.ICE officers are rounding up anyone and everyone, like slave catchers in Africa.I never watched the movie “12 years a slave” but I saw many clips.I did read all of the Addy books, during my American girl doll obsession as a child.In the first few chapters, Addy is beside herself when her mother tells her that they’ll be leaving her little sister Esther behind because it wouldn’t be possible to escape with a baby. They weren’t reunited with her until six books later. Addy’s brother and father also found the family — a “happy” ending, and somewhat of a fairytale.I’m watching my friends, people, and really the world—move around. We’re in this state of collective shock and terror. And I’m thinking, aren’t you so scared?I think we are. I know I am.I couldn’t find the energy to wash my hair today, so I decided to do my laundry and wash my dishes instead. I’m excited to see my hair braider next week. But if she called me and said she wasn’t feeling safe coming in or being in public, I would understand that too.I want to go to yoga class and be scared and still have joy. I want to not be afraid to take the subway. I want to go to a theater and support my friends. I want to call my reps and then go get groceries for chili.I want to not open the news. I want to have five seconds of peace before I wake up and before I go to bed—scrolling and watching videos of ICE brutality. I want to take care of my mental health without feeling like I’m betraying other people. Because if I were in custody, I would want people doing everything they could to get me out. But I would also want them to have their sanity.And I also want to have my sanity. I know I can’t be of use to anyone if I’m not taking care of myself too. And if I sit here and don’t eat, or do my laundry, or wash my hair, then I can’t keep fighting and calling my reps and showing up. It’s really scary to admit all of this. But I have to. For me, and for you.I always say—and I will say it until my dying day, chilling as it is to say that right now—if anything I put into the world gives one person a moment of “wow, me too,” (which I know my work has) then I’m good. I’ve done that. I’m deeply grateful for that.So for anyone reading this who is scared, who hasn’t been able to name that fear, who is waking up every day thinking, What are we doing? How am I doing this? How am I just living through this?This is for you. I’m right here with you. Every second of every day, I’m right here with you.Friends of Don Lemon were on his Instagram, talking about what’s going on and keeping people informed, and someone said something like: the road to freedom can be slow, but it continues. That’s horribly paraphrased. But I do believe this will not be what life is like for the rest of our lives.I believe my children and my grandchildren will one day look at me and say, wow, you lived through that—the same way I look at people older than me now. I wish it stopped there, and that I wouldn’t be one of the people telling those stories to my grandchildren, but alas.I think it’s helpful to imagine a time when it won’t be like this. And also to do everything we can. And also to keep breathing, taking care of ourselves, drinking the coffee, washing the laundry, laughing, and holding onto our sanity as part of that work.We are all doing the best we can.I was really terrified late the other night, and I went into Sephora to get a hair mask. (I use Tracee Ellis Ross, Patten products—they’re amazing.) There was a Black women working, and we were looking at serums, and at some point I mentioned my age. She goes, “I thought you were like 21,” and I was like, oh my God, I love you, thank you.”We had this moment of exchanging eye creams and talking, and it was really beautiful and really sweet. I just hope we can keep showing up for each other in the fullness of who we are.Call your reps. Cry it out. Tell your friends you’re scared. Tell me if you want—email me. I’m here for you. My inbox is open. Support people you love. Support small businesses.And fuck ICE. And I love you all so much. Thank you for holding space for all of this today. I really hope that the mission of this rings true—that my vulnerability has been a permission slip for yours.There is no blueprint. There is no map. There is no guide for surviving fascism in 2026. We are still in the first month of this godforsaken year. And if you’re listening to this, you are here. And you are doing your best.I hope we all keep doing that all the way home.I’m going to take my coffee, get my clothes from the dryer, maybe call my reps, check in on what’s going on—and also take a screen break, because God, I’m rambling.Before I go: shoutout to Brittany Packnett Cunningham, who I love. She did an episode with Glennon Doyle and Abby Wambach on We Can Do Hard Things—about what’s going on in Minnesota and with ICE more broadly. I haven’t listened yet, but I know it’s an amazing conversation. Brittany is someone I always look to for the pulse of what’s happening and for actionable things I can do. And thank you to Glennon for using her platform to uplift the helpers and fighters.That’s it. I’m signing off.I love you all so much. Please take care of yourselves. Protect your people. And protecting your people includes yourself, right? We can’t want peace and safety for everyone if it doesn’t include us.I want it for you.I want it for meFor all of us. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit thenuancediaries.substack.com/subscribe

I’m so ‘scited*. I’m ‘scited to share this new thing I made.*Scared and excited, as Glennon Doyle would say.More excited than scared, though.When I thought about posting on Instagram, threads, and even TikTok, I felt more scared than excited.And so, I’ve decided to share this with you, and only you, first.What is this? What’s she sharing?Cards. Custom, handcrafted cards. Created by me, with new oil pastels, and an old Emily Brontë quote (Head to substack to see them!) At first, I thought that this new/old passion would be just for me. It was both fun and necessary to rediscover my love of creating visual art, alone at my kitchen table (which is now smudged with new vibrant colors daily).As my new pieces quickly accumulated (and the space on my refrigerator dwindled), I started to think about what kind of art I could make and easily share with my friends.And then I thought — what if I tried designing cards that I could send people? I love shopping for unique, thoughtful cards. What if I looked up some quotes to integrate into these cards?A little context behind this design choice. While many people enjoy sketching with a pencil first and then filling in their drawings with the colorful oil pastels, I’m mostly intrigued by how to blend the colors and create rich, complex, layered, textured backgrounds.It’s never just blue, but blueish green purple. Not just purple, but purplish turquoise, midnight blue.I love the endless ways the colors dance together. I love finding out what happens when you add just a touch of pink or a hint of light blue. Or what it looks (and feels) like to blend diagonally, then horizontally. I like experimenting with how hard or light to press into the page.I love holding something in my hands that I’ve created from scratch. It’s a different kind of feeling than that of finishing a piece of writing I’m proud of. It’s tactile, visual, and visceral. There’s much to discover here.And much to share.I’m making 17 of these cards, and I’d love to send you some.Share them with a loved one — platonic, romantic, or familial. Keep it for yourself. Send it to the English teacher who introduced you to Wuthering Heights (shoutout to Ms. Fischer!)If you’re interested - email me at [email protected] with the subject “[Your Name] Card Order” and please include…* The pronoun you would like used - his, hers, or theirs (see video for reference!)* Your mailing address* A screenshot of your Venmo/Zelle payment ($17.77)AlexaJJ on Venmo + 917-626-1331 for Zelle.From there, I’ll confirm that your card is reserved and follow up with the shipping cost once I’ve mailed your package!*You can also DM me at @ alexajuanitajordan on Instagram, threads or tiktok but that’s more for people who follow me on those platforms, who will eventually see this announcement there!Once these 17 cards are gone, they’re gone.I might create a waitlist if there’s enough interest, or I might move onto a new quote - we’ll see! There’s truly no big master plan here. Just a girl and her oil pastels.Love you guys.More soon,Alexa This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit thenuancediaries.substack.com/subscribe

What if the wind was a knife?Swooshing aroundSlicing invisible cutsInside you, right through youEveryday What appears to bea breeze to everyone elseis lethal for you Thousands of invisible cutsCountless invisible cuts No one can understandThey ask, “What’s the matter?”Because they can’t see you bleeding That same wind that circles you like a hitmanTransforms into a calming breeze in others’ presence It’s like waking up to the barrel of a gunWith heavy invisible bullets that never leave a markNot even a scratch of proof of their crimes Sometimes the wind is strongAnd sometimes it’s barely there When it’s gone for a whileIt hits you with even more brute force when it returns It knocks you off your feetYou’re always bracing yourselfFor the next gust It feels inevitableAnd unstoppableLike you’re incapableLike even the strongest walls can’t keep you from this wind This is emotional abuseThe wind and me This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit thenuancediaries.substack.com/subscribe

Click to Subscribe + Read The Full Post Here Hi everybody. Happy New Year.I can tell 2026 is going to be the best year ever because nothing objectively horrible and unimaginably awful has happened yet. It’s all been sunshine and rainbows everywhere.I, for one, am bringing a squeaky clean slate into the new year. New year, new me. 2025 Alexa? Never heard of her. I want to be unrecognizable.The sky is also green. And I’ve decided I don’t like Wicked anymore. And I actually don’t think Jonathan Bailey is that attractive, and I’ve never really liked guacamole. And I’m definitely not craving a Kale Caesar right now. (A lot of green was mentioned unintentionally in there.)Okay, so onto the truth. Sorry for the jumpscare. Jonathan Bailey, if you’re reading this, you are the sexiest man of every year.I woke up on New Year’s Eve with congestion and a sore throat that would later grow into the worst head cold I’ve had in recent years.I hit my head so badly the other day that I thought I had a concussion.Before that, I read ‘A Battle With My Blood,’ a New Yorker essay written by Tatiana Schlossberg, the recently deceased granddaughter of John F. Kennedy and Jacqueline Kennedy, daughter of Caroline Kennedy and Edwin Schlossberg, wife of George Moran, mother of Edwin and Josephine, and sister to Rose and Jack. They’ve all been in my thoughts and heart lately, along with the rest of Tatiana’s friends and family.Tatiana was my classmate at The Brearley School. She was a few years older than me, but we shared a piano teacher. (Ironically, the same piano teacher whose daughter I would one day teach in fourth grade at my alma mater.) I didn’t recall our shared history until I saw a group photo featuring the two of us among others, at The Brearley School.Two years ago, I faced an absurd number of deaths in my personal life while also watching friends and acquaintances mourn loved ones whom I’ve never met. I learned a lot about grief during that season. I learned that it is entirely possible to mourn the losses of those we didn’t know well, or didn’t know at all. I learned how grief can sneak up on us.I’ve learned that one death can often remind us of another, expanding and often complicating our grief. For example, my Aunt Eileen passed away over a decade ago, yet I’ve missed her more these past few years than ever.I’ve learned that life is fragile, unpredictable, and urgent.My capacity for grief and compassion as we collectively walk eachother home knows no bounds. My empathy is infinite.Our time on earth is not.It’s tricky, being someone who has had suicidal ideations and now fears death — the very thing I used to imagine as an escape.I’ve learned that life will never be done breaking my heart, and that I have to continue to let it break over and over again.Brandi Carlile was 100% right when she sang It’s no fun to have a heart when we are living through these days.I’ve learned that I have to surround myself with people who feel it all, so that my sensitive soul has room to breathe.Cynthia Erivo described writing her first memoir as “an excursion of truth-telling,” and I have never loved a phrase more. It’s what I’m trying to do here, inside The Nuance Diaries every time I write to you — set out on an excursion of truth-telling. I’m never here to bullshit you, except in that opening paragraph, which was 1000% sarcasm, which I hope you caught on to. Dark humor is part of my survival kit.Resilience is essential and absurd.I wrote that down during the final few acts of The Seat Of Our Pants, a new musical that debuted at the Public Theater. I watched my insanely talented, deeply kind friend, Geena Quintos, perform alongside Ruthie Ann Miles, one of the most resilient people in this world. In her own words, “Ruthie dedicates herself to the memory of her children, Abigail and Sophia.” She calls her youngest child, Hope, “a little lighthouse.”I’ve always loved lighthouses. I think that the act of writing itself has been my lighthouse over the years. Other people’s words have certainly been my lighthouse. I sometimes can’t believe that my own words have been a lighthouse of sorts to readers and audiences, on pages and stages.I used to say that writing is how I try to make sense of this sharp, messy world, but often, there is no sense to be made. Often, all we have is the light in front of us and our feet beneath us.You know what doesn’t make sense? I sat down to write to you about how I had no idea what to write this week, and somehow all of this poured out of me.What makes even less sense? My day today was therapy + finding out that an ICE agent shot a woman in the face in Minnesota, just blocks from where George Floyd was murdered.My mind drifted to the summer of 2020. And then to the fall of 2024, Sonya Massey was shot to death in her own kitchen. I read about that while making pasta in my kitchen. Just like I read about Breonna Taylor while lying in my own bed.Why do I love this place that’s never loved me?Those words, sung by Cynthia Erivo, keep ringing truer and truer.I say ‘I hate it here’ a lot. And I sometimes mean it.This country is full of boundless cruelty and unspeakable, deplorable, heartless people who just seem to want to torture us all, and they all happen to be in charge.And yet, this is also where my dear friends got married, in one of the most beautiful places I’ve ever been in my life, in the Hudson Valley, a short ride from the school we all met at over a decade ago.And it’s also where I got called the ‘n’ word for the first time in Portland, Oregon.And it’s also where we had perhaps the most historic inauguration since Obama on January 1st, right here in New York City. (If you haven’t watched Mayor Mamdani’s speech along with Public Advocate Jumaane Williams and Comptroller Mark Levine, I highly recommend it. I cried.)(I sometimes try to pretend that New York City is not part of America, and I’m working on that. Kind of.)If you can’t already tell, I did not sit down to write today with a clear topic or ‘message’ on my mind. I really, truly just thought,Fuck. Today is hard. Insane, really. It’s January 7th, and 2026 has been unspeakably hard. I don’t think I have anything to say. But I also feel like I need to say something. I want to bury myself under my Costco blanket, watch Golden Girls, and eat Kale Caesar salad. But I also want people to know it’s okay to feel messy and awful and out of control right now. It is not normal that we have to hear about vile tragedies and then just go on with our days as if nothing happened. That’s not normal. I hate the word ‘normal,’ yet none of this is normal.I guess what I really wanted to do was hop on here and be honest, and give you permission to be honest too. I’m forever hoping that my vulnerability can be not a blueprint, but a permission slip for yours.Okay, one last thing. Actually two.* I want to create space for you to show up and be honest, not just when you’re reading these essays. The idea of ‘being honest’ sounds easy, but it is actually hard. Hence, the permission slips.I used to host this weekly drop-in group called ‘Authenticity Tuesdays,’ and I am bringing it back as….For an *hour, we’re going to hang out on Zoom and be honest together.I’ve put together some prompts, but the conversation can go where it wants to.There are also some old prompts in the archives here on Substack if you want to dig around and see what we talked about last year. Just search ‘Authenticity Tuesdays’*Well, 75 minutes, but I wasn’t going to call it Honest 75…that would be a fun cocktail name though?We’ll meet on Tuesday, January 13th, from 7:45 PM - 9 PM.Use this link to add to your calendar.Donation of $15 recommended (Venmo AlexaJJ - linked in the invite.)A year ago, I totally would not have been able to make that donation when I really needed a space like this. ‘Give what you can’ truly means just that — what you can. If you can’t, that is 1000% fine and will not be held against you in any way, shape, or form. Truly, just show up.Here are the Happy Honest Hour prompts for 1/13 —* How often are you honest with yourself?* What does being honest with yourself look and feel like to you?* What do you need to tell the truth about?* What have you been bottling up lately?* How does it feel when you lie to yourself?* What are the consequences of dishonesty?* Is there anything you want to be more honest about this year? With yourself or others?I have a good feeling about this. I think it’s going to be fun. Whether it’s 2 people or 20.I said I had two last things to say, right? Last thing.* I’m getting back into art, and it has been a freaking blast. More on that later. I haven’t shown anything I’ve made to anyone yet, and I love that. But since you guys are special…Take care of yourself. Be so kind to yourself. Drink a warm beverage and be still, as my therapist always tells me.Talk to you soon, and hopefully SEE you Tuesday for Happy Honest Hour.PS My New Year’s resolutions are to reduce my own suffering whenever possible, and treat myself as kindly as I treat other people. More on that later for sure. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit thenuancediaries.substack.com/subscribe

Check out this post inside the https://thenuancediaries.substack.com for further reading and listening! The days are getting shorterThe nights are growing long.The birds will be migratingTaking with them all their songsThe air is crisp and chillyWe’re trading shorts for scarves‘Tis autumn, ‘tis autumn, ‘tis autumn.The leaves are changing colorLook at their vibrant huesThe tree branches will be bareBut they’ll bloom again, tooGrab a jacket, dear, it’s chillyThe wind is blowing through‘Tis autumn, ‘tis autumn, ‘tis autumnBlack boots, leather jackets, tights, and hatsSipping tea and chai lattes, I’m alright with that.Come November, grabbing a sweater’s old hatAnd yes, it’s getting darkerYou’re tired, melancholy, and not sure whyIn the middle of a movie, you might have to cryCome December, they’ll sing Is Love a Lie?And yes, it’s even darkerIt’s darker than you could imagineWhere there was once lightBut you know we’ve been here beforeAnd we will be all rightThe nights are not foreverThe moon always shines brightSo grab a candle and blanketAnd please do hold on tightSoup on the stoveYour friends on the couchYou start to think this is what it’s all aboutSo let’s cozy on up and let the world quiet down‘Tis autumn, ‘tis autumn, ‘Tis autumn This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit thenuancediaries.substack.com/subscribe

“I’m tired of being amazing. I don’t want to be amazing anymore.”The single sentence becomes the crux of the show and of modern motherhood. Jenny Kaminski (Dakota Fanning), a hardworking publishing executive, meets Marissa when they’re hiding out in the bathroom at a school event. The two forge a friendship over twinning in the same dress and dealing with the same dilemma. They are tired of the platitudes their husbands serve them, of doing it all at home and at work, and being told they can have it all if they really work for it.The Nod MagazineIn All Her Fault, Dakota Fanning plays Jenny Kaminski, a married wife and mother carrying the load of a single mom. She takes care of her young son and her husband, a man who doesn’t clean up after himself in the kitchen, and texts her to ask where their son’s water bottle is.When I finally started watching All Her Fault, weeks after hearing the well-earned buzz, I was both excited and not at all surprised to see Dakota Fanning playing Jenny. Something about the casting made perfect sense to me — but I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. I just knew that Jenny Kaminski = Ray from Uptown Girls. After sitting with my thoughts some more, I realized that it’s not just Ray; Dakota Fanning’s entire extensive resume has clearly laid the groundwork to lead her straight to the role of Jenny Kamiski. It feels like the writing was on the wall in a very unique and specific way. Jenny Kaminski is very much who I imagine all of Dakota Fanning’s characters from childhood could have grown up to be: an “amazing” woman doing it all. Who better to play a wife and mother who is ‘doing it all’ than an actress who grew up playing children who also had to do it all? Who better to play the new friend of a mother whose son was kidnapped than a woman who has herself played a kidnapped child?Dakota Fanning has played multiple little girls who either ran away or were kidnapped at some point in a film*. Both Lily Owens from The Secret Lives of Bees and Lucy from I Am Sam (Dakota Fanning’s SAG award-winning performance) run away. Abigail Jennings (Trapped) and Lupita “Pita” Ramos (Man on Fire) are both kidnapping victims. Ray also runs away to Coney Island in Uptown Girls, in one of the most pivotal (and memeified) scenes in cinematic history. How surreal to now play a mother supporting another mother with a missing child. Some of the initial details and musings that sparked my early connection to Ray, and then to more of Dakota’s other incredible roles, include… * I knew Ray would make a wonderful mother if she chose to have children. Girls who have complicated relationships with their mothers sometimes pass down all the trauma, but sometimes they do all the work necessary to break the cycle and become much healthier moms. I think Ray did the latter.* I knew Ray would have a fabulous career and be such a ballbusting badass. You can really see Jenny’s inner child (aka the precocious spitfire that is Ray) come out when she’s working.* Jenny Kaminski is both a member and an outsider. She lives in this Monterey-type town (very Big Little Lies except it’s Chicago), but she’s also on the outskirts of it, too; she’s not playing their games, and she sees through the bullshit. Ray’s world in Uptown Girls is one of deep privilege, but she also saw it for what it was (as much as a child can)* Jenny Kaminski knows the lifesaving power of female friendship.Many of Dakota Fanning’s younger characters were saved by strong, loyal, unconventional women in the form of Molly Gunn (RIP Brittany Murphy), The Boatwright Sisters, and Jennifer Hudson (The Secret Life of Bees).These women were the Ms. Honey’s to these characters, Matilda’s; women who stepped in and redirected the course of little girls’ lives with their compassion, care, and strength.When Jenny Kaminski’s husband warns her not to get involved because it looks like their family could be linked to the crime (The Kaminskis ’ nanny goes missing the same day that Milo does), she immediately ignores his “advice” and becomes Marissa Irvine’s biggest supporter and true friend. It’s also worth noting that some of Dakota Fanning’s characters did grow up with great male role models like Sam from I Am Sam, and Denzel Washington from Man on Fire (which I haven’t seen, but I’m going to assume he was a positive influence on her life because he’s Denzel Washington).* It’s unfortunately believable that a grown-up Ray would stay with an incompetent man (Jenny Kaminski’s husband) who is about as useful as furniture. Ray’s father died when she was young, and I can see her wanting a “perfect” two-parent household. A grown-up Ray might honestly feel ‘lucky’ to have a husband like Richie Kaminski, who is “trying” to be present. I know it’s tempting (and far more empowering) to think of Ray having higher standards than that. It’s a far more redeeming arc to imagine mature little girls as women who take no shit. Some of my friends looked at the husbands in All Her Fault and thought, ‘Isn’t it unrealistic that those women would stay with men who have so few redeeming qualities?’ You might be thinking, if Dakota Fanning’s characters had all of these amazing influences, how did she grow up to be Jenny Kaminski, this overworked woman married to a man who isn’t showing any interest in her life or actively contributing to raising their child?Children who are praised for their maturity and competence often become adults who think that carrying the weight of the world on their shoulders is normal.I would know. Too many people know what it’s like to feel lucky when they get scraps. Many of us even convince ourselves we’re full when we’ve actually been starving our entire lives for something we’ve rarely, or never, tasted. When I was around 6, my family’s flight was delayed for 12 hours on the way home from spring break in the Caribbean. After finally landing at JFK around 3 AM, we waited in baggage claim for what felt like forever. When I spotted my father’s worn beige leather duffel, I tried to get my parents’ attention. I don’t remember how hard I tried or how loud I was. I have no idea why they didn’t hear me or notice the bag themselves. All I knew was that I didn’t want to be in the airport any longer than I had to be. I made the swift decision that I would grab the bag myself. That caught my parents’ attention. They were so shocked and proud of me. My strength. My observation skills. My proactivity. It’s a story we tell all the time to this day, a story in which I am the hero. Another time, months or maybe even years later, we were at the garage, and our car wouldn’t start. We went outside to call the car manufacturer people. I heard someone on the other line ask for our car’s license plate number. After my parents fumbled around for a minute, considered going back in the garage to check the car, and tried to remember if they had the number saved somewhere, I simply blurted out the number. I couldn’t believe they didn’t know the license plate number we looked at every single day. Part of me honestly thought they did know it and were testing me. Again, I was praised for my swift thinking, my observation skills, and my memory. Time after time, the messaging kicked in: I’m so mature, I’m so responsible, I’m great at remembering things, people are so impressed by how put together I am, and how well I can take care of things. I’ll keep doing that. And I did. I kept doing that. I took on more than I should have had to handle, made it look easy, and kept collecting praise.“The character that I play epitomizes the ‘modern woman, somebody who’s trying to be everything to everyone: a good mom, a good wife, a career woman, a good friend—struggling to do it all and questioning if she can. I think, regardless of whether a woman is married or has children, we all feel the push and pull to be everything to everyone at all times. There are moments when you just want to scream, ‘I’m just a person. There’s only so much I can do.’” - Dakota FanningOlivia Hancock, Byrdie I’ve been quietly relating to mothers who carry an inordinate mental load since I was a child. I remember watching (then reading) I Don’t Know How She Does It in high school and feeling such a strong connection to this quintessential woman who was being praised for doing it all.Can’t anyone see how tired she is? Can’t anyone see that she needs help? The thing I’ve now realized at 30, still childless, still relating to married working moms who are forced to function as single parents — Women often don’t actually need help. We want it. We deserve it. But we are used to not having it. And therefore we don’t need it — because we have trained ourselves not to. What kind of training, you ask? Asking for help, never getting it, and finding a way to keep all the balls in the air at the expense of ourselves and our own needs.Women who look like they don’t need help = Women who don’t get to have their own needs met. Sometimes life wakes us up in big ways, forcing us to see the cracks in our systems and mental loads. The Irvine Family experiences this kind of jolting, dramatic wake-up when their son is taken. The Kaminski Family experiences a slower, more subtle wake-up. Jenny (Dakota Fanning) could have technically gone on living the way she was. There were cracks, but those cracks were more nuanced and stitched into the fabric of her life. You could make the argument that her husband is “not as bad” as Marissa’s — and in some ways, you’d be right. But is “not as bad” good enough? Even the most capable woman will break if she carries everything alone.” - Linda Ayoola, I Didn’t Expect to Be Personally Attacked by a TV Show! It shouldn’t come as a surprise, or a spoiler, that the title ‘All Her Fault’ refers to the ways that men blame women for not carrying the weight of the world perfectly. It’s like blaming someone for dropping one of a million things, instead of realizing that their load is much heavier than it should be.In therapy recently, I said something to the effect of I’m carrying everything really well, and I don’t want to stop to put it down and talk about it. If I just keep carrying it, I don’t have to think about how heavy it is before I pick it up again.In addition to building the strength needed to carry such a heavy load, we also have to find the strength to bottle up our growing resentment for people who both praise and criticize us — like the men of All Her Fault. The push and pull of being called amazing and then criticized in the same breath is a special kind of whiplash. I, for one, get really defensive when people who have never walked in my shoes criticize me. That’s everyone for the record. Even if our lives are similar, we’ve never truly walked in anyone else’s shoes. I have really done my best to remove words and phrases like ‘should’ and ‘well, if I were her…’ from my vocabulary, to stop myself from judging people who I know are trying their best. We could all stand to do that far more often.I’m not going to patronize you by tying up an essay about the complexity of the mental load by tying it up with a neat bow. I don’t have a neat bow. I’m out of string, and I’m too exhausted to go buy more. So instead of that bow, I’ll leave you with a few podcasts below about carrying the mental load of motherhood and being called a “superhero”, featuring the wisdom of Amanda Doyle (Glennon Doyle’s brilliant sister) Oh, and one more thing? You are amazing. Not amazing the way that people mean it when they praise everything you’re doing. Amazing as in, ‘You are so amazing and you have so much to offer this world beyond taking care of other people.’ Amazing as in, ‘You are doing such an amazing job surviving this crazy world and being a human, and you should go take a nap if you can.’Amazing as in, ‘You’re not amazing despite the dirty dishes, you’re amazing because of them.’ Amazing, as in, “Drop the measuring stick of everyone else’s expectations and go pour some of that ‘amazing’ energy back into you. You deserve it.’Okay, maybe that was a little bit of a tidy bow. What can I say? I have a lot of practice keeping things tidy, and it’s a hard habit to break.PS You know who else probably relates to carrying the mental load of an overworked, stretched-thin, do-it-all, make-it-look-easy mother? Nick Jonas. Specifically, the version of himself that he plays in A Very Jonas Christmas Movie. At one point, he screams, “YOU CAN’T GET MAD AT ME FOR MAKING ALL THE DECISIONS WHEN I ALWAYS MAKE ALL THE DECISIONS,” and wow, did I feel personally attacked. Let your family take care of themselves for a few hours and go watch that movie, it was a time. PPS If a man uses that PS as an excuse to say that men are not getting enough credit for the mental loads they carry, and somehow twists this into an example of the ‘male loneliness epidemic,’ I swear to God. The Nuance Diaries is free — because I want to make my writing as accessible as possible. That being said, it is a huge labor of love. Every single like, subscribe, share, and tip helps more than you know. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit thenuancediaries.substack.com/subscribe

I saw a stranger with really kind eyes a few months ago on the Lower East Side.This man with kind eyes looked like he was in love with this girl.I thought to myself, Will anyone like that ever fall in love with me? Would they love me if they knew who I was? What I’d been through? The dark shit clogged inside me? I realized a year or so ago that whenever I pictured my future self, she looked different from how I do now. She had straight long hair, and always looked more together than me. I’ve been trying to picture a future self who looks more like my present self, because I want to think of my present self as deserving of the things that I think my future self will have. I even have this outfit (that I currently own) that I’ll specifically picture my future self wearing: my ‘Victoria Beckham’ jeans, white mock turtleneck shirt. I’ll picture myself at a conference or worship wearing this outfit — or even just living a casual day in my future life. When I wear this outfit now, in the present day, it helps me feel a little closer to my future self.*They are not actually from Victoria’s fashion line; they’re just flair jeans that remind me of the ones she wore in the David Beckham documentary when they were dancing to Islands in the Stream. When I was facing serious financial issues earlier this year, I thought a lot about the different, somewhat extreme, things people consider doing for money when they’re desperate and don’t have other options. And I came really close to doing some of those things. I considered doing things I would never dream of if I weren’t in such a financially unstable position. I ultimately did not do any of those things — and I’m incredibly lucky that I had that choice. So many people don’t have choices about where and how they live, and what they have to do to get by. While considering these choices, I would often chastise myself and think things like, “Well, if you do this, then it’s part of your story, and you’ll have to tell your future partner one day that you’re a person who did these things for money. You’ll be a person who tarnished themself.” It’s such an incredibly mean way to speak to and think of myself. I would never look at another person through the harsh lens I reserve only for me. When I really think about it, I don’t want to be with someone who would judge me through that lens. But it’s so easy to think of my future partner as someone too good for me, whom I have to prove myself to. I subconsciously live my life by these invisible, imaginary standards, and hustle for my self-worth in pursuit of the love of an imaginary partner who I imagine judging me harshly. It’s so easy to look at a stranger in a restaurant with kind eyes and make up a whole story about them. In less than 5 seconds, my brain decides that this strange man is pure, thoughtful, sincere, and decent. My brain reminds me that I am jaded; it tells me that I am not pure or good in the way that I used to be before.Before what? Before I became an adult? Before the world got complicated? Before I made mistakes? Before I became human?I don’t want to end up with some ever-loving Saints, who would judge me for my past. I want to be with someone who will look at me and all the darkness inside of me and still find the light. I want to find someone who will see me in my broken hallelujah and meet me there.I want someone who loves me not despite my imperfections, but because of them. I want someone who will give me the same grace that I know I will give them.I want someone with kind eyes, like the man I saw on the Lower East Side.And yes, I know I’ve made up a whole narrative in my life about who this man is, and maybe he is a villain who escaped prison and is on the run for starting a cult and being a serial killer. But in my mind, he is none of those things, so just let me have this. He seemed really nice.Self-compassion is such a nuanced, layered thing. It’s not just about saying “I love you!” in the mirror. It’s not just about finding compassion for ourselves moment to moment. I think it’s also about believing we are worthy of beautiful futures, regardless of what the present holds, and what the past has done to us. I really believe that no one is exempt from a beautiful life and tiny, beautiful things. (Shout out to Cheryl Strayed.)I want to believe that I deserve a person with kind eyes.I want to believe that I’m a kind person, too. I want to believe that I’m a kind person who deserves grace and is always trying her best.And that’s all I can hope for in a partner. That’s all I can hope for in my future self.I hope future Alexa is kind, ambitious, successful, and full of grace. I hope that she is somewhere in the future looking back at me, and thinking, “Wow, I’m so grateful for her.”I hope she’s happy. I hope she knows how worthy she is.I also hope she has a weekly housekeeper, an in-unit washer-dryer, and a clawfoot tub. PS The comparison game only gets worse during the holidays. Here are some affirmations to remind yourself of before you have a breakdown, an hour before everyone comes over to your house. More inside the Holiday Survival Kit. The Nuance Diaries is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit thenuancediaries.substack.com/subscribe

The basic answer? I don’t want to.If someone wheeled a beautifully decorated tree into my house, I wouldn’t turn them away.If I woke up to a perfectly decorated Hallmark movie-style house in Vermont, I’d be delighted (and also a little terrified that I’d been robbed/kidnapped.) But because life is not a holiday movie, the job of decorator/mover/organizer falls to me. And this year, I’m putting in my notice.I really do historically love the holidays. I love cheesy Christmas movies, gorgeous, elaborate light displays, and sugar cookies. I love Mariah Carey, tinsel, and coquito. Up until recently, I loved putting up a 7-foot tree with a collection of ornaments that could fill a row or two at Home Goods. Yes, that’s right; 7 feet. I followed in my family’s tradition and bought a synthetic tree for my big girl apartment during the pandemic in 2020. Ever since then, I’ve looked forward to putting it up every year. One year, I even got a bedroom tree for double the Christmas spirit. In addition to the tree(s), I’ve also collected a variety of signs, door hangers, figurines and the like. One of the signs proudly reads ‘This girl loves Christmas.’The thing is, I also love lying horizontal on my couch. I find reality pretty difficult. I find the business of getting out of bed and getting on with the day really hard. I find picking up my phone to be a mammoth fucking struggle. The number on my inbox. The friends who won’t see me anymore. The food pictures and porn videos, the bombings, and beheadings, the moral ambivalence you have to have to just be able to carry on with your day. I find the knowledge that we’re all just atoms and one day we’ll stop and be dirt in the ground, I find that overwhelmingly disappointing. -People, Places & Things by Duncan Macmillan (A Play)I, too, find reality pretty difficult. When I first saw this play at 21, I never would have admitted that, even though that’s been true since I took frequently naps in the nurse’s office in high school, and secretly got excited when the kids in my elementary school tennis camp got us all in trouble (because it meant that we would have a time out aka quiet time to sit and do nothing in an air conditioned gymnasium in New York in July.) The monologue is delivered by the play’s protagonist, Emma, who is in and out of rehab for drug and alcohol addiction throughout the play. At 21, I don’t think I was consciously afraid of developing an addiction — but I also certainly never thought that it could happen to me. And perhaps that unconscious thought kept me from relating to this monologue and character as strongly as I do now. There’s a human temptation to mentally distance ourselves from those with different life circumstances than ours. If we tell ourselves we can’t relate to someone, then we can rationalize that we won’t end up in their shoes.At 30, I’m no longer trying to distance myself from people who are “different” than me — because I am acutely aware that my life could have ended up a million different ways if just the slightest thing had gone a different way, throughout the course of my life, or anyone else’s in my family. I absolutely understand the lure of self-medicating with drugs and alcohol. I absolutely understand that most of us find reality pretty difficult, and that we are all exhausted. Like, ‘I have to hype myself up to stand in the shower,’ exhausted. And, ‘How long have those dishes been in the sink?’ exhausted. And, ‘Did I always sweat this much huffing and puffing down subway steps when I’m late?’ exhausted.Why is she making us read about how tired she is? I’m tired too. We’re all tired. Maybe that’s what you’re thinking right now. How tired can she be? Isn’t she like, 30? Or maybe that.Damn. No wonder she can’t find the energy to put up a Christmas tree.If that’s what you’re thinking — bingo, you’re the winner. I’m too tired to put up my Christmas tree, and I have been feeling guilty about it for weeks. I usually put it up on November 1st. Yes, I’m that kind of Christmas girl. I really love Christmas! Well, the holiday season. Well, parts of the holiday season.But this year has been different. This year, I feel a little less spirited and a little less myself. And while I’m sure my therapist and I will keep digging into why that is, and why that’s so normal, and why it might be time to up my lexapro — I am not forcing my exhausted little 5”3 self to put up a 7ft tree, and I feel great about it.I’m “bigger than my body gives me credit for,” but sometimes my body just wants to mesh into the couch/bed and watch archives of the Obama era on YouTube and eat a burger from Shake Shack and then make a milkshake with Trader Joe’s pumpkin ice cream and Bailey’s. Don’t get me wrong - I’m still going to do other festive things. I’ve already been to a holiday party. I’m going to a 7 Fishes feast this weekend. I put together a very fun little make-shift holiday display in front of my TV, and strung some lights that usually go on the tree on my bookshelf. There is still (unconventional) brightness and cheer in my apartment and in my life.But there’s exhaustion too. There’s room for that under the (nonexistent) tree, too.What has been bringing me a lot of joy this year is helping others. I put together a Thanksgiving gift bag for an unhoused neighbor, with some clothes, a warm blanket, a slice of pumpkin pie, some assorted toiletries, and a note on where they can receive more support. I’ve donated maybe 8 bags of clothing/bedding/bags/winter wear, and there is definitely more to come. Being able to make a small impact in the lives of others, even when I’m feeling down myself, is incredibly fulfilling — and more important than ever. On that note, I’ll end by mentioning that my heart has been with the families who lost their homes to the LA Wildfires this year. I can only imagine what a first Christmas in a new home without your familiar surroundings and precious family items feels like. Some of my favorite ornaments were severely damaged and/or ruined by leaky pipes in my storage room. This loss is not at all comparable - but I’m entitled to my sadness, and my ability to feel that sadness actually expands my empathy for those facing greater losses. I wrote more about this below. Click through for the full thread.Speaking of threads… we’re not alone in the December exhaustion. Some other reasons I know we’re not alone?* At 7:08am on 12/3 ‘how to not lose my shit’ was at peak popularity on Google* Just 12 hours later? “Holiday burnout”* Elf on the Shelf is also growing in popularity. If this is you, my condolences and good luck.It’s okay if the holidays look different this year. It’s okay if you skip certain traditions or start new ones. It’s okay if things that used to excite you just don’t spark as much joy this year. It’s okay if it feels like the holidays are something to survive. And if you’re reading this, you’re surviving and doing a great job at that.If you ever want a little extra solidarity, support, or just a laugh when it’s all feeling absurd, I’ve got you covered inside the Holiday Survival Kit. With love, light, exhaustion, and chaos,AlexaPS Another popular search lately has been “gifts for adult kids,” and I’ve got you covered there, too. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit thenuancediaries.substack.com/subscribe

Important housekeeping update over here about paid vs. free subscriptions! I sometimes look in the mirror and think, “Weren’t you supposed to make something of your life by now?”It might sound mean — but it’s one of my tamer negative thoughts.I try to think of all the things I’ve accomplished and the friends I love, who I know love me back.It’s not that I’m not grateful — there’s just this boulder in my path that I keep coming up against again and again and again. And I can’t quite figure out what to do with it. Do I demolish this boulder, or just keep facing it, over and over again?In some ways, I’ve definitely separated my self-worth from my resume. Someone recently used the phrase “divorcing my self-worth from my resume,” and I really love that.The positive assumption is that I can feel good about myself, no matter what I’ve accomplished externally. But on the other side of the coin — I can also feel bad about myself — no matter what I’ve accomplished.There was a point in time when, looking back at testimonials, comments, and kind messages from people telling me how my writing and my coaching have affected their lives would instantly make me feel better. Just the other week, one of my oldest friends sent me the sweetest text about how she always feels lifted after spending time with me. Last night, I found an old Facebook message from college that someone I don’t know very well sent me after seeing my first play, FINE.I know the tangible, measurable impact I’ve had on people’s lives, and I’m so grateful for that. Acts done for others are never entirely altruistic; we’re human, and we feel good when we help people.And yet, sometimes that feeling fades. We wish we could do more. We wish that we could have a larger impact. We wish that our own luck could change. We wish that our lives could change the way that other people’s do.At least that’s how I feel.I’ve made friends with envy (often confused with jealousy), and I’m now pretty quick to identify what I’m longing for when I see someone with something that I don’t have. There are times when I’m somewhat proactive about my envy and take steps to figure out how I can move closer to what I want. But sometimes, I succumb to the “why not me?” feelings, as we all do.Why don’t I have a brand deal? Why don’t I have kids? Why didn’t I meet the love of my life in college?Eventually, the ‘whys’ grow more accusatory,Why haven’t I paid off my credit card debt? Why haven’t I written another book? Why did I stop acting? Why isn’t my house cleaner? Why am I such a slob? Why do I let the dishes pile up?Why haven’t I “made it”?Are there tangible things I’m supposed to be doing that I’m not? Am I supposed to do more positive affirmations? Should I cleanse my house?I don’t have any answers or cures. I never do. I’m just here to write the stuff that I’d like to think we’re all thinking — to help myself (and hopefully you) feel less alone.I do know, logically, that I have “made something of my life” regardless of what my brain tries to tell me.I feel kind of haunted by the reality that I have no idea how much time any of us have left on this earth — and that thought makes me feel really grateful and really disappointed. I know that at 30, I have a lot of things that people go their whole lives without. And I also feel pretty far from a lot of my goals and dreams. I have no idea how far I am from achieving them. I like to think that everything I want is right in front of me or just around the corner. And then I find myself crying to my therapist, and wondering if there are just some dreams that aren’t meant to be mine. Is it time to give up some of those dreams?It’s painful to write that sentence. I picture my younger self asking me that. Picturing my younger self always softens my heart and silences a lot of my “bad thoughts.” Most of the time, I believe in the little girl in me more than I believe in the capable, resilient adult woman in the mirror.A few weeks ago, a woman wrote her farewell note of sorts on Threads. Thousands and thousands of people came to her aid and begged her not to end her life. They offered personal support, solidarity, and resources. Just as I was about to chime in, I saw the update that this young woman was overwhelmed by everyone’s support — and decided to seek mental health support in her local area.I would never ever tell someone else to give up. No matter what they’re facing. No matter what their brain is telling them. I wrote Please Stay, Please Stay, Please Stay and shared the story of both my suicide attempt and many, many ideations — to provide support for people who need it.“Weren’t you supposed to make something of your life by now?”“Aren’t you supposed to have a 5-year-old by now?”The voices are relentless. We often talk about our inner critics like whispering snobs in an art gallery. Mine are dangerously angry sports fans in the 4th quarter. My inner critic is louder than my upstairs neighbor, who has been watching sports-ball all weekend.I’m not going to tie this up with a bow. As I said, I have no answers or cures. I’m just here to write the stuff that I’d like to think we’re all thinking — to help myself (and hopefully you) feel less alone.I hope it helps. Even if there are no answers or cures, I can’t deny that it helps me. Even if my inner critic is screaming, “WHY would you admit all this to the internet?” I know that showing up and letting myself be seen has changed my life for the better.I think that showing up and talking about all of the big, messy shit we push down all day long matters. I think this part of my story matters.And the more I say that, and show up with this part of my story, the more I prove that the big, messy parts of your story matter too.There’s room for all of me. And all of you.Okay, maybe I did tie that in a little bit of a bow; I couldn’t help it.The Nuance Diaries is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit thenuancediaries.substack.com/subscribe

I thought I was going to wrap up the “The Best Showgirls are a Wicked Kind of Wonderful” series this week, but after seeing Wicked For Good last night —- that’s not where I am mentally; I want to reflect on this iconic film in a different way. (I will finish that series soon though, don’t worry!)Below is a thread that I posted (on threads, where I’m posting more commentary) before passing out on my couch last night. I woke up to thousands of likes and reposts and shares and replies. I’m so grateful my words are resonating with so many of you who are clearly having such similar thoughts and perspectives.If you haven’t seen the movie yet and don’t want spoilers - skip this until you’ve seen it! Go catch up on the series mentioned above or read another one of my latest pieces, like this one. This is your last warning, THERE ARE WICKED FOR GOOD SPOILERS AHEAD.And if you’re not a Wicked fan/weren’t planning to see it…this might just convince you to?Also - stay tuned for a special Sunday edition of The Nuance Diaries where I’ll be making a big announcement! As Glinda says, “you don’t want to miss this.”I do wish there was some way to like, magically go back in time or even see this movie in the Kamala timeline (the imagined world where Kamala Harris won the election.) Because the thing is, the Wicked team didn’t know the world would be like this, when they made the movie. But now that it is — you can’t not see the political landscape of America mirrored throughout Oz. No Place Like Home is about to be a protest anthem. As Keke Palmer once said, that’s a slave hymn.Seeing Wicked in 2003 as an eight year old — my first thought was not “Omg Glinda stands for all the complicit white women who don’t see the grave harm and danger they put black women in by aligning with these corrupt evil men.” And I got to enjoy her more as a character. And even in the following years, even seeing it in 2023 for the 20th anniversary — I didn’t see Glinda’s complicity the way I do now - because the landscape of America was different then (or so I thought.)That being said, it’s 2025 and we can’t avoid the world we live in when we see this movie. The symbolism is literally SO clear and powerful. There was a moment when the emerald city guards made me think of ICE. When Elphaba and Fiyero are walking through the land beyond Oz, and she had the piece of cloth over her head, she looked like a refugee and you just can’t ignore that symbolism. It’s so important.There’s something sobering and heartbreaking about watching Elphaba walk away from the only home she’s ever loved, which has never loved her back (also literally such a parallel to Zohran Mamdani’s victory speech when he said the city that you love finally loves you back.) I hope people won’t sugarcoat her and Fiyero’s ending. Yes, they get to be together forever. Yes, they are “free.” But they are literally fugitives. And we have no idea where they end up. Our brains must fill in the blanks. While some might be thinking “well maybe Elphaba can come back one day?!”, I do think that the people of Oz really do need someone to be wicked, in order for someone to be good. But that being said, if you have an idea for a fanfiction where Elphaba and Fiyero can come back to Oz, by all means write it and share it with me pronto. To give Glinda some credit, I did love the new addition to the ending where Glinda made it clear that Oz was a place where animals are welcome. Seeing people welcome them so openly was again, another important moment of symbolism. Lies are powerful. But the truth can prevail when people use their power the right way — which Glinda is learning to. For me, the moral of Wicked is really that we all have to stop giving corrupt inept men power. The Wizard was never the powerful one — he’s just a pathetic man, propped up by powerful women using their power in the wrong way. And his very presence emboldens people in the worst way and incites all kind of terror and violence.If Morrible, Glinda or even Dorothy had said no to the Wizard at any point — the fate of Oz, and the animals, and Elphaba would have been totally changed. It’s not enough for one person to say no, and fight back. It’s going to take all of us. Elphaba did help the people of Oz and free them from the Wizard. She did have a celebration throughout Oz all to do with her. The prophecy from The Wizard and I did come true. But she had to become a deeply misunderstood and villainized martyr, in order to make it happen. She knows that the people of Oz will never know who she really was, and what she did for them. The entire movie is just…. I have so much more to say. It’s such a deeply important, timeless story. I will have much more to say after my 2nd viewing, but for now I’ll just say that strangers kept offering me tissues. I look forward to seeing gospel covers of ‘No Place Like Home’ like, immediately. You could do it for Sunday Service if you call an emergency practice tonight and maybe one more on Saturday? Just a thought. I VERY much look forward to seeing activists’ take on No Place Like Home and that final shot of Elphaba walking into the land beyond Oz. Please chime in! I’m so curious what your views are on her “surrender” and orchestrated “death” in order to ensure her safety — after pleading with the animals to stay. Some may look at her life as a sacrifice. Was it? I’m not sure. It’s a hard question to ponder as a Black woman in 2025 America. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit thenuancediaries.substack.com/subscribe

I hate this part of internet culture where something happens and we all immediately want to comment on it and give our hot takes. And I especially hate how quick society is to make light of something very scary and serious just because it happened to a celebrity.I also hate how righteous people can be - as if having a keyboard gives us the right to say what kind of behavior is okay and not okay.I will say, though (at the risk of sounding righteous), that it’s deeply unsettling to be seeing memes already — of Cynthia Erivo protecting Ariana Grande.I’ll also say that I think these actions have less to do with singular individuals making such memes — and more to do with the very parasocial relationship many people have with celebrities, due to the access that the paparazzi + the internet has perpetuated and allowed.We are not entitled to know anything about anyone’s personal life — beyond what they choose to show us.Knowing how a politician is spending their time during a national disaster is far different than knowing how a celebrity is spending their vacation.Politicians have CHOSEN to devote a portion of their lives to public service, and that duty does come with certain expectations.Celebrities should not have to carry the same expectations — and yet they do.All public figures are not alike. They are all human, though. And no human should be denied dignity, empathy, respect, or safety.I will admit that I have watched the video of Cynthia protecting Ariana / Ariana being assaulted — several times, from several angles, and a few times at .5 speed. I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. It was like watching a car crash and not being able to look away. And yet of course, it felt like there was something voyeuristic about watching again and again. Even as someone with CPTSD, I can only begin to imagine and never fully grasp what went through Ariana’s mind. How scared she must have been. How scared Cynthia must have been when she lunged into action.I couldn’t help but hear the echo of Elphaba yelling, “Leave her alone, she has nothing to do with this. I’m the one you want, it’s me!” in the final moments of Wicked Part 1. A natural protector on and off screen.And then I felt guilty for thinking of that moment in the film, when faced with a scary moment from reality.It’s like when the fires were raging through LA — and reporters pointed out how life eerily imitated art for Milo Ventimiglia, who has now lost his house in a fire on camera (in This Is Us, when his character passed away), and now in real life. It’s a kind of unavoidable comparison- but I still can’t imagine what it was like to even think about that parallel, while evacuating his house with his pets and pregnant wife who was about to give birth any day.(I could also talk more about the outrageous lack of humanity that was shown to celebrities during those fires, but that’s a long tangent.)We have to stretch our hearts wider and deepen our capacity for empathy.I can feel horrified by what happened to Ariana Grande and wish her, Cynthia Erivo, Michelle Yeoh, and all of their loved ones nothing but peace (and really good security).I can feel all of that — while simultaneously being disgusted by my government and looking up food banks to donate money to.We don’t have to pick one unspeakably horrible thing to amplify and feel bad about at a time. We don’t have to compare. We can and must feel it all. That’s my mandate to myself.I want to be as happy for myself as I am for my friends. I want to feel their losses as deeply as I do my own. I want to open my heart to a stranger in need the same way that I would to my loved ones.It cost me nothing to send well wishes and love to multiple people who are struggling.It does cost me — and you — something to post casually cruel and deeply unnecessary comments like “can we stop talking about XYZ celebrity and focus on the people who are dying?”You can point all of your energy and focus towards anything you deem worthy — without criticizing where others put theirs.You can inspire me to care about the things that you do, without putting down the things that I care about.Are there moments in life that put many of our issues into (much needed) perspective? Sure.But that doesn’t mean we shame people (celebrities included) for the things that they’re facing in their lives.Earlier this year, in therapy, I talked about the anxiety attack I had after finding out Trader Joe’s was out of my brown sugar oat milk creamer.I cried alone in the kitchen when I found out that Glennon Doyle’s sister, Amanda, had cancer.I’m sad that that actor from Dawson’s Creek has to sell his memorabilia to pay for cancer treatment.I will continue sending good energy and love, and light to Ariana Grande.I really hope that this person who keeps charging at celebrities finds something better to do. I hope that one day, when they (maybe) start healing and really deeply reflect on whatever has caused them to act this way, they change their ways and find redemption. Not being able to see the suffering you’re causing others is its own kind of suffering. I hope anyone who loves him, who is horrified by his behavior, can find some peace, too. You kind of can’t imagine what it’s like to be associated with (or even related to) someone who has committed a crime — until it happens. I went to a play at the Roundabout called Something Clean, which speaks to that perspective, and I never forgot it.Anyway. I’m going to wrap this up.If you walk away from reading this with just one thing on your heart, let it be this: Dismissing and diminishing someone else’s pain is never a compassionate thing to do.Having less empathy for a human being based on their privilege is never a compassionate thing to do.Am I going to personally try to contact a celebrity who m my heart goes out to, and tangibly help them the way I would help a loved one? No. That’s where the para-social part kicks in. I can feel my feelings and want good things for human beings, and also acknowledge that I don’t personally know any of the celebrities I admire.But the thing is — going out of your way to criticize everyone else’s response to a celebrity’s pain? I think that’s just as para-social, in a different way.Part of me really wants to end this with “stop being mean on the internet and go touch grassBut instead, I’m just going to put my phone down and pour a glass of poppi soda and heat up some eggplant parm from Costco while I watch the latest episode of the Murdaugh Murders.RIP to the real-life Maggie Murdaugh and the fictional version played oh so brilliantly by Patricia Arquette. (who also did an amazing job in The Act playing Dee Dee Blanchard. She deserves to live through one of these docuseries. Jeremy Jordan has also had a similar treatment, and I want my man to live.) This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit thenuancediaries.substack.com/subscribe

Welcome back to The Nuance Diaries! I write what sensitive, deeply feeling people are thinking but don’t say. AKA the stuff you usually save for the group chat.Free subscribers receive occasional free posts, and paid subscribers ($7/month) receive at least 1-2 essays a week + access to The Authenticity Library + my full archive of 150+ posts.I spent yesterday, November 4th 2025, desperately trying to keep my anxiety at bay.I turned the oven on and forgot to put my dinner in. On the subway, I very nearly yelled out, “We all voted right? For Mamdani?!”I posted a lot on Threads. Here are some highlights.I phone-banked until the last possible second - when the Zohran for NYC campaign was told we had to shut down because they spent every last dollar that they were allowed to spend on this campaign. When those tireless volunteers and staff members found a (legal) way to keep going, I got back on the phone again. Through it all, I kept having flashbacks to November 2016 and 2024 — the worst presedential election nights I hope to ever experience in my lifetime. I was a senior at Vassar College on election night in 2016. I checked the polls before leaving for a rehearsal for a Midsummer Night’s Dream; Trump had just taken one of his first red states. I was shocked that any state would elect this man — even a red state. When I expressed my confusion, doubt, and unease to one of my best friends and housemates, she told me that I had nothing to worry about. It was so early. He was bound to win some of the red states. Everything was going to be fine. I had no reason to panic.Hours later, we huddled together with classmates in the dining hall and watched the final results come in. That same friend showed me a video that Obama posted that night. His tone felt grim, and dire. I felt like he was preparing us for the worst possible outcome. I felt like we were on the eve of an impending war.Weren’t we?When Trump took Pennsylvania, we were all stunned to silence. The president of the democrats club took the mic to break it to us that there was no possible way that Hilary Clinton could win. Trump was officially the next President of the United States.I don’t remember the walk back to my house. I don’t remember putting my pajamas on and getting into bed. I do remember hearing the primal scream taking place in the dorm courtyards. I also remember falling asleep to Jane the Virgin.I woke up the next day to emails about cancelled classes, meetings, and rehearsals. It was like we were all frozen in time — unwilling and unable to walk forward into the inevitable future none of us had predicted. My English teacher, who did not cancel class, sat down and took one look at us before announcing that he simply couldn’t teach today. He told us that the great authors we were reading survived horrible times, and so would we. In that class, we were currently reading books like Heart of Darkness by Joseph Conrad. I remember thinking “Oh God, what is about to happen to us? What is going to happen to me? What are we going to do?”Hours later, I bumped into that same best friend and housemate in our kitchen at 3AM. I took one look at her and started crying. We held eachother. I remember wailing, “I can’t cry for the next four years!”Up until that point, I naively thought that all the bad times were in the history books behind us. I thought that the arc of change was bending in the right direction. I thought we could only go up after eight years of having Obama in office.Wrong.We will leave mediocrity in our past. No longer will we have to open a history book for proof that Democrats can dare to be great…This new age will be one of relentless improvement. We will hire thousands more teachers. We will cut waste from a bloated bureaucracy. We will work tirelessly to make lights shine again in the hallways of NYCHA developments where they have long flickered.Mayor MamdaniI can’t decide if 2016 was worst than 2024. In 2016, I was certain that a Trump presidency could never happen. In ‘24, I was certain that no one would ever opt into yet another era of tragedy and doom, to put it lightly. Unlike in 2016, I did not stay awake to watch the results roll in. After seeing how long it took to count all the ballots in 2020, I figured it was futile to wait up and see. I said a prayer to whichever Gods are out there, and went to sleep on the couch in my seaside San Diego apartment. When I woke up and checked instagram on autopilot, I was met with a villainous photo of Trump and a caption that read something like “Trump storms back.”A living nightmare.Against my body’s pleas, I somehow made it out the door to a morning workout that I had previously committed to with a new friend. Working out before sunrise is also my version of a nightmare.On the drive there, I rambled on about my disappointment in America and what this country is becoming. I said something about how America hates Black women. My friend replied, “I don’t necessarily think Trump being president means that America hates black women.” Really?In true abject shock, I delivered a two minute rant on the recent murder of Sonya Massey (who my new friend had never heard of) and what it means that a Black woman can be shot to death in her own kitchen after calling for help, and that another Black woman (me) has to read about that murder while making pasta in her respective kitchen.And that’s how I ended up comforting a white woman about racism in America, no less than an hour after finding out about Trump’s 2nd term. I couldn’t believe this situation I found myself in. I could’ve let her sit with her feelings and cry it out — but she was in the drivers seat. I didn’t want to get into a car accident because she couldn’t see the road. Dying in San Diego the morning after Trump was elected for a second time is not how I was meant to die. Safety and justice will go hand in hand as we work with police officers to reduce crime and create a Department of Community Safety that tackles the mental health crisis and homelessness crises head-on. Excellence will become the expectation across government, not the exception.Mayor MamdaniWe ran. We did cardio circuits. Everyone in the class mostly acted like it was just another day. Another white woman told me that the first Trump presidency “wasn’t so bad” and that she knew she wouldn’t be too affected this time either. She told me she was mostly concerned for the environment.I felt like I was in a post-apocalyptic universe. I felt invisible.I came home and thankfully had therapy already booked. I think I drank tequila directly after my session.My Canadian neighbor came over to help me take an updated passport photo so that I could get my passport renewed immediately - for obvious reasons. (You’re the best, J.) At some point that afternoon, I saw a post online that rewired my brain; what I now call, “the plantation texts.”Black women were receiving texts about being selected for a shift to pick cotton. Random numbers texted them that they would be picked up at their homes in a white van at 5AM. To this day, there are so many people who have no idea that this even happened; these inexplicably vile, racist, threatening texts that rewired my brain. Even though I logically knew these texts were nothing more than a scare tactic - I still didn’t leave my house for a full week. And when I finally did, I couldn’t look at people the same way anymore. Everywhere I turned, I thought “Was it you? Did you do this? Did you vote for him? Have you sent us back into the dark ages? Did you really think that this criminal was a better choice than an overqualified Black woman? Is that how lowly you think of Vice President Harris? Of Black Women? Of me? Is this what you think of me?” Is this what America thinks of women like me? I swiftly made the choice to move back to New York. It felt like the world was ending. And if the world is ending, I’m going to be in New York.A couple of my friends objected to my impulsive decision. “Isn’t it going to be the same everywhere? Aren’t there going to be Trump supporters everywhere? Isn’t San Diego just New York, but sunnier?”First of all, San Diego is 100% not NY but sunnier - more on that another time.And second — yes there are sadly trump supporters everywhere. But in New York, we do not bow down to corrupt leaders. Even if they’re the president.In this moment of political darkness, New York will be the light.-Mayor Zohran MamdaniAt the same time that I was planning my impulsive move home, to the city that I thought I had left for good, a man named Zohran Mamdani was beginning his mayoral campaign.Sitting on my couch, wrapped in a Costco blanket, drinking wine and watching The Handmaids Tale, I had no idea that seeds of hope had already been planted.I had no idea that just a year after one of the most devastating election nights in American history — my hometown of NYC would go on to elect a mayoral candidate who has given us a level of hope that we haven’t seen since the Obama era.Zohran Mamdani has given me back a sense of hope that I have not felt since I was 21 years old, a senior in college, about to enter the ‘real world’.And I’m not the only one.I’m 30 now. Each vote feels heavier and more crucial than ever. I’m far more aware of what’s at stake than I was at 21. I am acutely aware that the bad times are not behind us in history books. I am horrified and heartbroken at the hate that fuels this country. I joke that I’m a New Yorker, not an American — and I kind of mean it.Watching Mayor Mamdani win this election made me prouder, happier, and more emotional than I have ever been about a political campaign in my lifetime.I am hopeful. I am grateful. And scared.Hope is a decision that tens of thousands of New Yorkers made day after day, volunteer shift after volunteer shift, despite attack ad after attack ad. More than a million of us stood in our churches, in gymnasiums, in community centers, as we filled in the ledger of democracy.And while we cast our ballots alone, we chose hope together. Hope over tyranny. Hope over big money and small ideas. Hope over despair.Mayor Mamdani I want everything that Zohran Mamdani promised us. I’m confident in him and his team. I want him to have a fair shot at running this city. I want him to get on the phone with Taylor Swift’s people and talk security teams and strategies. The reality of being a person of color in America, is fearing for the lives of other people of color. Mamdani is going to protect us. But we also have to protect him, and his family.(I also really think that he and his wife deserve a spa staycation because I personally get exhausted even thinking about the man’s step count.)I am elated. I am heartbroken.I can’t believe I get to tell my future kids I volunteered for the historic campaign that put New York’s first Muslim mayor in office. I am heartbroken that my kids will also learn about the vitriol he faced. I’m heartbroken that this is the first time in our city’s history that the people who keep this city running are really truly feeling seen by the people in charge.Fingers bruised from lifting boxes on the warehouse floor, palms calloused from delivery bike handlebars, knuckles scarred with kitchen burns: These are not hands that have been allowed to hold power. And yet, over the last 12 months, you have dared to reach for something greater.Tonight, against all odds, we have grasped it. The future is in our hands. My friends, we have toppled a political dynasty.Mayor MamdaniI’m exhausted.Right after the confirmed results came in, I texted a friend “I’m going to sleep so well tonight.” And I did. I let out a breath I didn’t know I’ve been holding.Scared. Tired. Hopeful. Grateful. We can hold complex emotions amidst times of celebration and joy.There is room for all of it, just like there is room for all of us in this beautiful city. Most of all, [our greatness] will be felt by each New Yorker when the city they love finally loves them back.Mayor Zohran MamdaniOn the note of celebration — I would like to rebrand New Year’s Eve as “Mamdani Eve” this year since my future mayor is being sworn in on January 1st.I also will be referring to him as New York’s mayor effective immediately, regardless of when he is sworn in. That’s my mayor.That’s our mayor. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit thenuancediaries.substack.com/subscribe

This is a free preview of a paid episode. To hear more, visit thenuancediaries.substack.comI wrote this song before and after one of the worst anxiety attacks of my life. The first verse or so came to me on the F train, coming home from Gowanus, Brooklyn. And then the rest came to me very quickly, almost 24 hours later, when I was back in my body.It was the first time that I had really, really intense physical anxiety that wasn’t accompanied by depression. They are the best of friends, depression and anxiety. I’m not used to seeing one without the other. It was the first time in my life that I was this anxious about good things.I wrote out a whole essay about the inspiration behind this song and what was going on while I wrote it — and then I deleted it. I feel like I just want to let it speak for itself first.You’re also, as always, welcome to read the lyrics as a poem first, or instead.Who I had to be to be with you is who I am no longerWe had some good times but now it’s time I start running furtherYou and I, we’re standing stillThe water’s fine and even stillThe waves are calling, so I won’t be calling you anymore

Dylan Mulvaney didn’t change her name when she transitioned — but her one-woman show inspired me to change mine. The name of my newsletter, that is.Dylan briefly discusses nuance at the end of her iconic one-woman show, The Least Problematic Woman in the World. Something about hearing that word, in the context she presented it in felt like a lightbulb moment.I was like, ‘Oh, right, nuance. This very nuanced world we’re living in.”I really can’t tell you how I jumped from that thought to, “I should change the name of my newsletter.”I hadn’t even been thinking about changing the name until I heard Dylan Mulvaney say ‘nuance.’ Just like I never thought about living in San Diego until I visited. (Ironically, where Dylan once lived, too.)But like so many things in my life, the rebrand and rapid recent growth of this newsletter happened slowly and then all at once.Back in June, I sat down to write what I called the “Wild Cozy Free 2025 State of the Union” to reflect on my two years here at Substack, and what ‘wild cozy free’ means to me now.I first claimed my Substack URL on May 8, 2023, and published my welcome post nine days later on May 17th.The name Wild Cozy Free came to me late one night. I had recently found out that a potential book project wasn’t going to happen the way I thought it would. I had this whole collection of non-fiction essays, and nowhere to put them, as a playwright who had formerly only published fictional dramas.I remembered how Glennon Doyle’s writing career started, with her blog, The Momastery.“I’d tell my shiny, happy representative self to be quiet. And I just allowed my wild, original, honest, truth self forward.I started a blog, and it turned out lots of people needed to hear the truth like they needed air. Over time, as I wrote to you each morning, you became my meeting, my friends, the community I’d end up doing life with. Since those early days, a whole lot has changed for me… those early writings have turned into three books, the last of which was Untamed. I watched from my home this past year in awe as Untamed became one of the biggest books of 2020 and 21.And because of that, things have gotten bigger and wider and fancier. And the bigger and the wider and the fancier it all gets, the more I miss those early days. So here we are, back to the beginning, just you and me in the early morning in our coffee and the truth. Full circle makes me very happy.From We Can Do Hard Things: 1. ANXIETY: Is it just love holding its breath?, May 11, 2021Looking back at my very first Substack post, it’s now easy to see how my own words echoed Glennon’s —The day I started toying with the idea of writing a personal blog, words started pouring out of me faster than ever before. It was like my mind got the message that I could finally say whatever I wanted to, without worrying about the correct format.I’m good at brainstorming and free writing, but all of my writing typically falls into one category: play, novel, essay, song, or maybe a poem. The only works I’ve ever widely shared are plays. I hope to share the novels one day, once I finish them. The song lyrics and poems are typically just for me or close friends. The unfiltered stuff.The most unfiltered stuff is tucked away in my notes app. The writing that I know probably won’t ever make it into a future play, novel, essay, song, or poem. The writing that I won’t assign to a character, or fit into a dramatic arc. The thoughts I jot down when I’m waiting for the train. The things that pop into my head when I’m listening to a podcast or a moody playlist on one of my hot girl walks. The anxieties that keep me up when all I want to do is sleep.This blog will be a home for those thoughts.Two years later, this blog is still a home for those thoughts. Reading this Substack is very much like taking a peek inside my notes app, because my notes app is where most, if not all, of the essays start out.The iPhone Notes app is pretty much my virtual diary.Diary. Like The Nuance Diaries.Of course, when I started this blog, I did have to wrestle with my inner critic’s protests. Who would want to listen to us?I’m well aware that the concept of women unmasking their real, authentic selves isn’t original (even though it’s still relatively quite new.) That’s a good thing, a really good thing; that so many of us are finally taking up space and showing up as our full selves.Instead of shutting myself down and convincing myself that I have nothing new to contribute to that conversation, I’m going to defy my inner critic and take up some space of my own.I’m going to slowly strip myself of shame. I’m going to let my wild, cozy, free self roam, say what she wants to say, and see where that takes us. I hope you’ll join me, and bring your wild, cozy, free self along for the ride.I’m not here to teach you anything new about yourself, or the world for that matter. I’m just here to share the thoughts that I usually keep to myself* about myself, and the world around me. An imperfect offering of validation and truth.This description still rings true. This newsletter is still the place I share the thoughts that I usually keep to myself about myself and the world around me.While writing my Wild Cozy Free 2025 State of the Union a few months ago, I came up with this, Wild Cozy Free is how it feels to show up as my real, authentic, unfiltered self with my mess on full display.It’s like being in the WILD. Uncharted territory. No one has gone where I’m going. No one is going to experience life the way that I do. I’ve searched for blueprints for so long on how to live. I’ve looked for the right answers and wisdom. But the only right wisdom is mine. So here I am making my way with no map, trekking through the wild. Bushwhacking, if you will.There’s something COZY about coming home to who I am, and nesting there. When I feel really connected to myself, I often take this breath of release like “oh here I am”, like when you’re snuggling up on a cozy sofa.I just got this image in my head of a family learning to take care of a newborn. And I imagine that a lot of new parents might call those first few months both wild and cozy. One minute you’re like “wow, how do I keep this human alive? I can’t do this. ” and the next minute you’re looking at this perfect soft angel swaddled up on your chest with the perfect baby smell and you’re so content and calm in the chaos.(And no, I do not have kids yet, but I really look forward to being a mom one day. And that being said, I know that I have no idea what the reality of raising a child is like, and the last thing I want to do is oversimplify the complexity of being a new parent/caregiver.)Pouring my heart out across the page, and letting people get to know the real me as I peel back more and more layers, is really FREEING. It’s the feeling of being seen and accepted without pretenses or performance, or expectation. I am free to be myself and evolve.Wild Cozy Free is a feeling, an identity, a state of mind, and something I’m in constant pursuit of. It’s like my personal brand of authenticity.Looking back, it’s very possible that I was subconsciously starting to realize that Wild Cozy Free felt like more of a vibe than a newsletter name.It was a great newsletter name for the last two years. But this blog is no longer about just me and how I move through the world. It’s about what I see and how I experience the world, too.Enter, The Nuance Diaries.Something just clicked when Dylan Mulvaney said that word, ‘nuance’, in one of the final moments of her gorgeous, singular, whirlwind one-woman show, The Least Problematic Woman in the World. I HIGHLY implore you to catch this weekend before it closes Sunday, if you’re here in New York!My mind just couldn’t let go of that word, nuance, and what it means to have nuance and be nuanced.At first, the phrase ‘the nuance report’ popped into my head — but the word ‘report’ felt a little too newscaster for me personally.The word ‘diary’ is what followed. Maybe I was subconsciously thinking about the diary entries that Dylan shares in her memoir, Paper Doll (which she signed for me!) Or maybe I was thinking about the Sex and the City spinoff, ‘The Carrie Diaries.’Honestly, if I tried to trace back the origin of every idea and detail in my brain, we’d be here until 2030 minimum.I ran the idea by a close friend the day after seeing The Least Problematic Woman in the World, and she loved it. She said that it felt like a great name for a newsletter where I share my ‘hot takes’ on the world. (I myself think that my takes are lukewarm at best, but who am I to correct my bestie when she calls me and my takes hot?)I put together the new logo/wordmark and changed my URL that night, just 24 hours after seeing The Least Problematic Woman in The World. You might be thinking, What is the actual definition of nuance? Okay, but what does that actually mean?Something that is nuanced has many different shades of meaning, in the same way that a photo might have many different shades of gray.https://study.com › lesson › what-is-nuance-in-readingCloser… but what does it really mean?It’s very simple: When something is not “black and white,” it’s “nuanced,” i.e., shaded.https://thinkclearlywriteclearly.wordpress.com/2015/01/02/what-is-nuance/That hits it on the head for me. I think of nuance as the gray area. The both/and of it all.So by that definition, Wild Cozy Free was nuanced all along. The very description of something being both wild AND cozy feels pretty nuanced to me.Because wild can be cozy, and cozy can be wild.I started writing here on Substack under Wild Cozy Free to peel back the layers of myself and the world around me. And now inside The Nuance Diaries, I will continue to do just that.It kind of feels like when I first set out on this journey, I delivered a mandate to myself to show up and explore who I really am, on the page.And now with the rebrand of Wild Cozy Free to The Nuance Diaries — I’m continuing and expanding that mandate. I’m still writing about me, but also about how I see things and walk through the world.As for my inner critic, who thought no one wanted to hear what I had to say?I’ve become a frequent flyer on one of the Rising Substack Bestseller Lists with 99 other writers.The Substack Team has personally invited me to an intimate in-person reception for bestsellers.But more than that, you, you reading these words —You welcome my words into your home to be your coffee read in the mornings.You read The Nuance Diaries in Nigeria, Australia, the UK, India, the Philippines, and more.You share your favorite pieces with your friends, and say kind things about me on the internet.You care what I have to say. You let me take up space in your hearts and minds with my words.I could not be more grateful. Whether you’ve been here since Day 1, like Donna McArthur , or if you’re a new friend like Elle :) I also have to give a very special shout-out to all of the Swifties who are here thanks to my now most-read piece, Taylor Swift Isn’t Going to Save The World, which has 1,000+ views and brought in 30+ new subscribers.So, as I wrap up this week’s nuance diary entry, I want to know —What does the word nuance mean to you?And…What are you tucking away in your notes app these days?Here’s a peek inside mine —Thank you so much for being here. Much more to come. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit thenuancediaries.substack.com/subscribe

This is a free preview of a paid episode. To hear more, visit thenuancediaries.substack.comIf you’re new here, welcome! Here inside the nuance diaries (formerly Wild Cozy Free), I write the things that highly observant, deeply feeling people are thinking, but rarely say aloud. Writing is how I attempt to make sense of this sharp, messy, imperfect, wild world.Paid subscribers ($7/month) get at least one essay each week + access to my archive of 140+ posts and podcasts + other fun perks, while free subscribers get an occasional free essay (like today’s!) and previews of paid ones (like this.)You can learn more about me here, and the vibe of my Substack here.Also, check out my most-read piece ever, here.And if you’re not new here, stay tuned for an update/explanation of the name change soon — I’m excited about it!I have always loved the ocean. I use metaphors with the ocean a lot, in my writing and in my day-to-day life.I’ve been sitting on a different song with ocean imagery for a few weeks (maybe over a month), and yet somehow, this song, which I wrote in like 30 minutes, is what I’m going to share first.It was inspired by something from a notes section (see below), which I wrote down in mid-September*. It feels very different than anything I’ve ever written, and yet it could be a sister of Coffee and Dresses.The recording is also exactly 2:22, which is my Angel number. And the last time I edited the original note with the inspiration for this song was on September 22nd. So I’m feeling VERY good about this, even if it’s a first draft.The Note:Can you handle the depths of my soul? Can you swim in my waters?It can be rough out here in these waters.But I will not leave the ocean for you. I will not leave the sea for anyoneI will not leave myself for anyone. I choose me, and the salt air every time.There is nothing wrong with preferring the shore. But it is simply not where I live.I have hope that I will find someone to brave the waves with me.And The Lyrics (recording with melody above)Subscribe to The Nuance Diaries for $7/month to unlock the rest of this post!

If you’re new here, welcome! Here inside the nuance diaries (formerly Wild Cozy Free), I write the things that highly observant, deeply feeling people are thinking, but rarely say aloud. Writing is how I attempt to make sense of this sharp, messy, imperfect, wild world.Paid subscribers ($7/month) get at least one essay each week + access to my archive of 140+ posts and podcasts + other fun perks, while free subscribers get an occasional free essay (like today’s!) and previews of paid ones (like this.) You can learn more about me here, and the vibe of my Substack here.Also, check out last week’s piece, which is now my most-read EVER!And if you’re not new here, stay tuned for an update/explanation of the name change soon — I’m excited about it!I listened to The Life of A Show Girl in its entirety on an early morning train ride to a different borough this morning. I will probably listen to it again when I venture to yet another borough later today. And then when I get home, I will dance around my house and dance to The Fate Of Ophelia choreography while I make dinner, before collapsing into bed. But for now, I sit here powered by caffeine and the 50-degree weather that finally made it possible for me to wear a turtleneck. And since I can’t blast The Life of A Showgirl in public without raising a few eyebrows, I thought I’d write to you about the Wicked parallels I’ve found in what I am declaring a no-skip album. THERE ARE WICKED FOR GOOD SPOILERS AHEAD. Proceed at your own risk!That being said, if you are a Swiftie who isn’t into theater, or a theater kid that doesn’t love Taylor — I think there’s something for both sides of the Venn Diagram here. And if you fall in the middle like me…well you’re in for a treat.And if you’re definitively not in either of those camps, here are a few other reading suggestions for you. (That last one is now my most read ever.)Okay! Last chance to turn back, here come the Wicked spoilers! Maya and Craig, if you are still reading, stop reading. THE FATE OF OPHELIASo deeply Elphaba and Fiyero coded. From ‘I heard you calling on the megaphone’ to ‘eldest daughter of a nobleman.’ (If Elphaba’s father Frexspar Thropp has no haters, I am dead.) There’s also the shared fate between Ophelia and Elphaba — dying due to being submerged in water (drowning and melting, respectively). In Wicked Act II, Fiyero literally becomes the Captain of the Wizard’s Guard just so he can “hone his powers” and help find Elphaba. He is literally calling for her on the megaphone because he literally wants to see her all alone and save her from being persecuted. All that time I sat alone in my tower, you were just honing your powers.And if you’d never come for me, I might’ve drowned in the melancholyNo longer drowning and deceived, all because you came for meFiyero is by no means a Disney prince rescuing Elphaba from a tower (neither is Taylor.) He is very instrumental in helping her flee from the Wizard’s Guard, and eventually from Oz altogether. And while Elphaba does keep herself physically safe while in exile, Fiyero will save her heart, and wake her up to all kinds of feelings she’s never felt, when they hook up in that forest (so much more on that to come). It’s ‘bout to be the sleepless night, you’ve been dreaming of…Also, a notable mention for don’t care where the hell you’ve been, ‘cause now you’re mine, because the fact that Fiyero “chose” Glinda is kind of a non-issue after Fiyero saves Elphaba in Part 2. This line also evokes the jab Elphaba will throw at Glinda during their epic fight in Part 2, which goes something like, “He never loved you, he loves me.” Speaking of Glinda…ELIZABETH TAYLOR Oftentimes, it doesn’t feel so glamorous to be me.This is pretty much Glinda’s thesis in Wicked for Good. As we saw a glimpse of in the beginning of Wicked Part, Glinda is smiling through the pain. She is the girl in the bubble ‘who has everything and nothing at once.’ I’m not sure if it’s an equal comparison, but Glinda’s big song, Thank Goodness, is kind of her Defying Gravity moment, where she steps into some big truths that have similar themes to Elizabeth Taylor. Everyone thinks Glinda’s life is amazing. She has everything she ever wanted. Except for the fact that her man is pining after her best friend, who is a fugitive being persecuted by all of Oz. If you ever leave me high and dry, I’d cry my eyes violet Elizabeth Taylor, tell me for real, do you think it’s forever?Been number one, but I never had two, and I can’t have fun if I can’t have you.Glinda’s life is quite different when she steps out of that bubble, just like a showgirl’s life is different when she steps offstage. She “would trade the Cartier for someone to trust.” Speaking of girls who just want someone to trust…OPALITE So this is how I think Nessa feels about Boq. I think it works if you picture this song being sung in a more delusional and less sincere way than Taylor does. Picture King George from Hamilton singing Opalite in the same tone that he sings ‘You’ll Be Back.’ You were in it for real, she was in her phone, and you were just a poseThese lyrics are very funny when you picture Nessa singing them about Boq because they foreshadow his transformation into the Tin Man (‘you were just a pose.’) If you go back and watch the first movie, you can also see a very subtle yet distinct nod to the Tin Man in Boq’s body language/rigid stance when he first meets Glinda on the first day at Shiz. Nessa also totally sees Glinda as the girl who was ‘in her phone’, not paying any attention to Boq. This is just a storm inside a teacup, but shelter here with me, my loveThunder like a drum, this life will beat you up, up, up, up This is just a temporary speed bump, but failure brings you freedomAnd I can bring you loveI can picture Nessa singing the bridge of Opalite to herself in Act II from the governor’s mansion where she has essentially imprisoned Boq. She’s like ‘this is fine! Everything is fine! This is a temporary speed bump and he will eventually see how much I love him and forget about Glinda and also forgive me for making him my servant and then we’ll be so happy!'“ This life will beat you up is also quite the nod to Nessa’s untimely demise when Dorothy drops on the scene (pun intended.) Oh, and speaking of untimely demises…FATHER FIGURE The only person I hate more than Frexspar Thropp is the Wizard. Like I said, if Elphaba’s father(s) have no enemies, I am dead.When I found you, you were young, wayward, lost in the cold.So the obvious father figure of Wicked would be The Wizard, but I also think it’s interesting to listen to this song through the lens of Madame Morrible and Elphaba’s relationship.Morrible literally takes Elphaba in. She is the first to see Elphaba’s potential, and encourage her, and ‘teach’ her. This love is pure profit, just step into my officeAlthough we don’t have details on how The Wizard and Madame Morrible met, I’m sure that they had similar beginnings too, when The Wizard teamed up with her. They want to see you rise, they don’t want you to reignThis reminds me of one specific moment in Sentimental Man when The Wizard sings, “so Elphaba I’d like to raise you high.” It’s a brilliant line, musically, because when he sings the word ‘high’, his voice actually drops down low — foreshadowing the fact that he does not want her to reign or really rise for that matter. All I ask for is your loyalty, my dear protege.The cost of his loyalty is steep, and the reward isn’t always exactly as it seems. Elphaba can have the honor and prestige she’s fantasized about as long as she does exactly what The Wizard says and helps him suppress the animals (which she is not at all on board with.) Your thoughtless ambition sparked the ignition on foolish decisions which led to misguided visions that to fulfill your dreams you had to get rid of meI protect the family. As hurt as Elphaba is by Morrible and The Wizard’s swift betrayal and demonization, she is also empowered, emboldened, and fueled it too. She wipes her tears, gives us a quick toss toss with her cape, and heads to the western sky to protect the family and do everything she can to save and free the animals. She sees The Wizard for who he is, a man with no power, thoughtless ambition, and misguided visions who thought that he had to vilify her to get what he wanted. She goes from being his greatest potential asset to his biggest threat in seconds — which is what the outro of Father Figure is all about. In the song, it sounds like the father figure has been the same person the whole time on a surface level. And yet if we approach the lyrics with more context, there’s a subtle shift after the bridge where the tables turn and the protege becomes the powerful one. *For those less familiar with the Swiftie lore, many people think that Father Figure is about Taylor’s relationship with Scott Borchetta and the fight to get her masters back. You could argue that deep down, The Wizard thinks he’s on track to ‘win’ and maintain control at the end of Part I (even though he honestly looks scared shitless when all the lights go out in the Emerald City as Elphaba flies through the sky more powerful than ever.) But in Part II, he gets brought down. He wants a fight, and he found it. He pulled the wrong trigger. The empire does not in fact belong to him. (All lyric references to Father Figure.)You made a deal with the devil turns out my d*cks bigger. When Glinda stays behind instead of getting on the broom, she ends up making a deal with the devil by outwardly siding with Morrible and The Wizard. She thinks she has chosen the side of true power and influence.But in reality, Elphaba’s the one with the real power. Her d*ck’s bigger. Full stop. She protects Glinda, the only real friend she’s ever had, right to the very end when she makes Glinda promise not to clear her name. Much more on how Elphaba protects herself and the people she loves, in PART TWO where I start by diving into why Elphaba is the OG Eldest Daughter. Part 2 will take us from Eldest Daughter - Wi$h Li$t. And we’ll finish off with Wood - The Life of a Showgirl in part 3.And here’s some further reading for both my swifties and fellow ozians. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit thenuancediaries.substack.com/subscribe

People are often taken aback when I talk about my time at The Mountain School. I don’t really blame them; if I met me, I would probably be surprised that I’d spent four months on a farm in Vermont when I was 16, too.But I did. And I loved it.I loved seeing the stars at night. I loved the community that my semester formed. I even grew to love the animals that horrified me at first. (I still don’t get too close to cows, goats, or chickens. I give them their space - we respect each other.) I found out somewhat quickly that I have a knack for bushwhacking, which the dictionary defines as “cutting or pushing one's way through vegetation or across rough country, not following an established trail.”* Put more simply, bushwhacking is when you grab a stick and use that stick to make a path for yourself in the woods.This song has absolutely nothing to do with the essay, but it was in my head the whole time that I was writing it, and Frozen II is profoundly underrated.Bushwhacking made me feel powerful. In a diary entry written during my time at The Mountain School, I compared bushwhacking to walking down the streets of Manhattan with a bunch of shopping bags, trying to make it through a sea of tourists on 5th Avenue. I stand by that metaphor. It truly fits the quintessential “city girl gone country” image that I had going for me at The Mountain School.One of our first assessments during my semester involved identifying the trees we’d been studying in environmental science. Nature was quite literally our classroom. For our quiz, my small class of 10 or so walked outside the schoolhouse building with paper and pen and were instructed to write down the names of the trees that our teacher pointed at. I don’t remember what grade I got on that quiz. Probably a B- honestly. The only tree species I remember, and can still identify today, is a paper birch. The trunk of the tree looks kind of like it’s wrapped in rough, jagged sheets of white paper that you could peel off easily.What I do remember is the enormity and sturdiness of all those trees. I probably got distracted during the quiz because I was daydreaming and feeling philosophical about it all. I surprisingly created a lot of nature metaphors and imagery during sessions with my life coach a few years ago. One of the metaphors we frequently came back to was the cave where I picture my "wisest self." I used to picture her hiding away from the rest of the world in a cave. I once told my former coach that I pictured that cave as the same one where Katniss nourished Peeta to health in the Hunger Games. I pictured a similar cave while reading Song of Achilles by Madeline Miller. (The one where Achilles and Patroclus lived, when they were training with Chiron.)(Both excellent books. I feel like Katniss and Achilles would be at each other’s throats, but Peeta and Patroclus would get along just fine.)There’s a coziness and warmth about my cave, even though it’s nestled in the heart of the wilderness. The wilderness in my metaphor represents the outside world. The cave is where my real self took shelter while I reconciled my outer world with my inner world. A reconciliation that was only possible (and necessary) after realizing how much pretending I had been doing in everyday life. Since creating that cave metaphor, I have ventured out more and more to explore the ‘wilderness.’ I have started pretending less. And I actively think about how to exist out here in the wild, and show up as my real, ‘wisest’ self that I picture in that cave, without a) actually retreating back into that cave or b) staying in the wild and pretending. More plainly, I spend a lot of time thinking about how I can be myself out in the world, instead of just performing all day and becoming myself again once I’m cozy on the couch again. How can we show up as our real selves in a world where we constantly feel like we have to armor up in more ways than one? How can we show up as ourselves in a world that often explicitly demands a version of us that is not who we actually are? Does ‘being yourself’ even matter?Inside this extended metaphor I’ve built, where I live in this cave and venture out into the wild — I picture myself bushwhacking to create new paths. My coach and I used to talk about how to know when you’re heading in the right direction when there is no exact path to follow. What does it feel like when you know you’re going the ‘right’ way, and making the ‘right’ choices? How do you tap into that intuition? How do you know what to do?I picture myself walking from tree to tree.I think about the people I meet along the journey, the places I encounter, and the opportunities that I come across as trees. Some are long-lasting - sturdy and rooted, and strong.Some are temporary - flimsy and susceptible to breaking with the right gust of wind in a storm.Some trees will be swiftly uprooted - like the one I studied for my final science project at The Mountain School. At first, I thought it must have been an old tree. But eventually, I realized with the help of my teacher that it had to have been a somewhat young tree, for all the roots to have come up in the way that they did.Glennon Doyle introduced the idea of touch trees to me when I read Untamed.A Touch Tree is one recognizable, strong, large tree that becomes the lost one’s home base. She can adventure out into the woods as long as she returns to her Touch Tree — again and again. This perpetual returning will keep her from getting too far gone….Now, when I feel lost, I remember that I am not the woods. I am my own tree. So I return to myself and reinhabit myself.-Glennon Doyle, UntamedI am not the woods. I am my own tree. I do believe that.BUT ALSO for the purpose of my metaphor (my wisest self being out in the woods after resting in her cave), I think that we can have multiple touch trees? People, places, and things that make us feel like ourselves and help us feel connected to our real selves as we venture through this wild world. The texture of these trees feels like home. They are new and yet so familiar.Like sitting down for coffee with a new friend, and suddenly feeling like you’ve known them all your life.Or reading a book that makes you feel instantly seen.Or listening to a podcast that somehow makes you feel like you’re at an intimate dinner party with your closest friends.When I reach those trees, I want to lean on them, relish in their sturdiness, and stay awhile.I want to stop being worried about when I’ll ever find a tree like this again. I don’t want to rush off to the next tree in search of something greater or worry that I’m not moving fast enough on my journey. I want to pay attention to how present I feel in my body when I’m walking through the forest. If I feel disconnected from myself physically, that is usually a pretty good indicator that I am in the wrong neck of the woods. Sometimes it’s tempting to stay in places where we don’t feel like ourselves. It’s easy to shove down the discomfort in the moment. I get it. I did that for many moments and many years.But here’s the thing. When I’m in the right neck of the woods, I feel grounded, present, and free. I feel peace unlike I’ve ever known, and all I want to do is stop and enjoy that feeling and be right where I am with myself and those trees.For even the sturdiest trees won’t stand forever. If life has taught me anything, it’s taught me that. So I myself am going to spend my wild, precious life finding the trees that feel like home, instead of staying in the wrong neck of the woods for fear that I may never find my touch trees. The basic definition of bushwhacking is simply to make one’s way in the woods.Nature provides us with such a powerful example of what it’s like to make your way in uncharted territory, at whatever pace is necessary. Nature also provides us with many examples of how necessary it is to be patient. We can’t rush the flowers in the winter. We can’t rush the sun in the spring.We don’t rush the leaves as they change colors in the fall.We literally can’t. And we likely wouldn’t if we could.Don’t rush yourself either, on whatever journey you’re on. Go towards the things that make you feel alive and bushwhack with gusto, but don’t sprint! You’ll probably trip on a stick that someone else discarded while they were out bushwhacking.There is both urgency and patience needed, as we find our way in this world. We have all the time in the world, and we have no idea how much time that will be. So don’t rush, but don’t wait forever either.One last thing, before I head out to *bushwhack — Lean on your touch trees. Lean. On. Your. Touch. Trees.*That was a joke. The Mountain School was fun, but I am a city girl living in New York, and the closest I will ever get to living in the woods is taking a weekend trip to the Hudson Valley.We were never meant to do any part of this life alone, and we are certainly not meant to navigate the wilderness alone. If you’re considering making a big change, or even just curious about what it would be like to take your life in a new direction, I’m always here to chat.You don’t have to know what’s next to know that it might be time to explore a new part of the woods.Nothing has to be ‘wrong’ on paper. If something feels off, then it’s off — and I highly recommend spending some time figuring out what that something is, before the unrest bubbles over. Burning your life down and starting anew can look surprisingly glamorous in movies, but it’s not the only way to change your life. You don’t have to wait until it feels impossible to stay where you are before you make a change. Further ReadingI originally wrote this essay a few weeks ago before seeing a musical called Redwood this past weekend. It’s now been a year and a half since I originally published this, and I have seen Redwood 3x. Read about this musical’s profound impact on me HERE. (And when I say profound, I mean it. Like, talk about big life changes. Hint - it involves a cross-country move.)We have a LOT to learn from the trees. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit thenuancediaries.substack.com/subscribe

The swiftie in me kind of died writing that. But it’s true. She can’t. To be clear, Taylor has saved my world many times over. I vividly remember hearing ‘Abigail gave everything she had to a boy who changed his mind’ in my childhood/teenage bedroom, and being forever changed.And yet, as powerful as Taylor’s music has been for me, she alone cannot save the world, and we have to stop acting like it.We have to stop acting like Taylor could end wars and genocides with social media posts, rallies, donations, and whatever else you think she isn’t doing.We criticize celebrities for being too self-important. And then we criticize them for not being our saviors.She was vocal about the 2024 election. It didn’t change the outcome.And yet, people are still truly convinced that pressuring her to “speak up” is the solution.I am not saying that she or anyone is perfect. Many people could be doing many different things with their platforms. That’s not actually a critique, it’s just a fact. Everyone could be doing more. Even the people posting on social media. Everyone could be doing more.Speaking of doing more — there are lots of resources at the end of this post!And unfortunately, we never know exactly what will turn the tide and start a revolution that actually makes a difference.But you know what is 1000% not going to make a difference? Using your precious time and energy to criticize Taylor Swift, or any other celebrities, for not posting about world crises.Taylor Swift is an archer, a mirrorball, a tortured poet. She has been a Brit, a New Yorker, a Kansas City girl — and now, a showgirl. But she is, by her own admission, an anti-hero. And anti-heroes cannot save the world. So why do we act like she could end a genocide with a single post?Why do you want someone who boldly declared, “It’s me, hi, I’m the problem, it’s me,” to be the solution?Why are people SO obsessed with pressuring her to speak up for the world’s crises when they could be directing that energy towards people who actually have the power to effect the change we’re seeking? (SO many resources at the end by the way.) Probably for the same reason that people are paying hundreds of dollars to protest at Kamala Harris’ book tour. The woman they didn’t elect for President, because they didn’t think we had any good options. Remember? I’m not here to convince you to be a Swifie. You have your taste, I have mine. But this thing we do where we loudly criticize people we’ve never met, like we have all the facts, and we’re the judge and jury? And we act like these people deserve our scrutiny because they chose to be in the public eye? I’m sick of it.Taylor isn’t seeing your posts about everything you wish she was and wasn’t doing. Glennon Doyle also isn’t seeing all of your posts about why she should never have started a Substack. (That whole thing? Insane. I have so much to say, but I truly will not go there.)The universal truth I keep coming back to is that our reactions to people have more to do with us than them.In some cases, we can and should loudly react to celebrities doing objectively horrible things. But even then, our reactions will still point to something specific inside us that has nothing to do with them. We get upset about certain things more than others for a reason. It’s our heart talking. It’s past experience talking. But if you’re furious with a celebrity who left his wife for someone else, and you make a ten-minute TikTok talking about what we all have been led to believe happened, you’re having that strong of a reaction for a reason. I’m not criticizing you for having that reaction. I’m just saying that your reaction has more to do with you than that celebrity. So to be clear, it’s completely fine if you’re mad at Taylor Swift for not posting about one or all of the world’s many atrocities. But if you’re so mad that you’ve convinced yourself she is doing nothing whatsoever? You’re having a really strong reaction that’s causing you to make up a narrative that fits the scope of your rage. You have no idea what Taylor Allison Swift has or hasn’t done. Neither do I. There are plenty of people in this world who quietly educate themselves, donate, and even influence the people around them, without posting on social media about every single thing they’re doing. That’s a perfectly fine thing to do.You know what’s not fine, though? Making angry, cavalier posts about how much Taylor Swift sucks just because she has not done this one thing that you think would change the tides of a literal war.It’s not fine when your middle school cousin, who looks up to you, reads your post and is heartbroken that you hate one of their personal heroes whose music helped them get through 5th grade when they were being bullied.The same people who are screaming Tortured Poets Department at the top of our lungs, and proudly wearing friendship bracelets — We’re the same people who are absolutely heartbroken by the tragedies of this world. We’re doing everything we can to turn our heartbreak into action. We raised millions of dollars in a Swifties for Harris Zoom fundraiser in like 90 minutes. We speak up and do everything in our power to show our solidarity and support for all kinds of crisis relief. We’re not wasting our energy villainizing a celebrity for not making a social media post.Again, you can feel however you want to feel about this! You’re allowed to think I’m wrong. You’re allowed to think that the revolution should happen a certain way. You’re allowed to want it to happen one way.I’d LOVE to live in a world where posting online could end a war. But it can’t. It literally can’t. And that’s not actually what you want to happen.You want these social media posts to galvanize people. You want the whole world to be inspired, care, and take action.Me too.Instead of expecting one person’s entire fanbase to magically do that, what if we focus on what we can do and what’s productive and what we KNOW will help? What if we encouraged our friends to make donations to impactful organizations? What if we spread factual information from reputable news sources, so that genuinely confused people can understand what the hell is going on?What if we stopped wasting our precious, limited, valuable energy being mad at Taylor Swift?I am so deeply over the era of loudly hating women, by the way— but that’s another post.If you’re unhappy with how someone’s behaving, you have freedom of speech (for now) and you can say whatever you want. But with all of the truly atrocious, heartbreaking tragedies in this world, maybe we could just focus on loudly criticizing the people in power?Maybe we could loudly amplify the people who are already doing something to help?Maybe we could remember that 2025 has been hard for everyone at every level of life, and that being nasty online is literally not helping you or anyone in the slightest?On that note, the comments for this post might eventually be turned off. This took a lot of courage to write and post. I’m going to exercise some self-compassion and give myself the kindness of not subjecting myself to the opinions of every single person on the internet. Democracy is important. Free speech is important. But this is my comment section, and I’ll be damned if I deal with every single troll who wants to come after me. If you can disagree and be respectful, go ahead and sound off. But if not, I’m not dealing with the keyboard warriors. It is not worth my energy. Or yours.Oh — and one last thing. When you see me losing my mind over The Life of A Showgirl, and feel tempted to remind me of what Taylor Swift is or isn’t doing —If you feel the need to call me a hypocrite, or say vile things about me or our *lord and savior Taylor Swift —In the words of Renee Rapp, “leave me alone **** I wanna have fun.”*Yes, I know I upset “the Christians” with that one. They’ve been upset since Cynthia Erivo played Jesus. They’ll live. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit thenuancediaries.substack.com/subscribe

I wrote the song Storybook Undone almost exactly two years ago after signing a copy of the Best Women’s Stage Monologues of 2022, an anthology in which I’m featured.Here in this book you will find 70 very diverse monologues written for women. These pieces present great acting challenges, and actors will have the pleasure of sinking their teeth into this sublime material while continuing to perfect their craft in their online or in-person workshops. The monologues all come from plays. Read these pieces, act these pieces. They will seem familiar to you as you hold the mirror up to nature and realize that art is indeed life.Smith and Kraus Website I’ve been thinking about Storybook Undone a lot lately, after writing a new song that I love, which in many ways feels like the sister of this song. I’m really excited to release it soon.These are the last few lines of Storybook Undone — the final chorus.And now that I’m free / I can learn to just be meNot who I thought I was / Who you thought you lovedShe’s not here no more / She walked through the doorOh, watch me run / Watch me tumble onStorybook Undone was largely inspired by A Doll’s House Part 2, a sequel inspired by Henry Ibsen’s acclaimed A Doll’s House.Before we talk about A Doll’s House Part 2, we obviously have to talk about Ibsen’s original masterpiece.For the record, you could see A Doll’s House Part 2 with no context, but what fun is that?!Housewife and mother Nora Helmer lives a delicately constructed — and seemingly perfect — life focused on keeping up appearances and meeting expectations. When a long-held secret comes to light on Christmas Eve, the foundation of Nora’s world begins to crumble. The blackmail and lingering resentments that emerge force her to come to terms with the fragile facade of her doll-like existence. Torn between playing the part that’s been built for her or leaving behind everything she’s ever known, Nora is faced with an impossible choice.-from The Guthrie Theater website. They’re about to do an adaptation by Amy Herzog, whom I love! She wrote the play 4000 Miles, which I did a monologue from for years. So if you are in Minnesota. Pleaseeeeee see this for me!The choice that Nora makes at the end of the play is shocking and largely unprecedented for a woman in the 19th century.I’m not going to completely spoil the ending too much because I would give anything to watch and read this play again for the first time.I will say that the door that protagonist Nora walks through is famously considered the door slam heard around the world; the slam that closed the door on the way things were and ushered drama into the new, modern world.A Doll’s House is easily one of my favorite plays. I first saw it at a theater company* I worked with in high school. I loved it so much that I saw it 2 or 3 times. I also ended up reading it in high school, and maybe again in college, and then saw the Broadway production with Jessica Chastain in 2023. In that production, Jessica Chastain as Nora walked out the door and straight into the streets of New York City, which was truly electrifying. (Some have criticized the staging because the quintessential ‘slam’ is missing - but I loved it.)** I was so excited to be working off-off Broadway that I didn’t even think about the fact that I was paying dues and not actually getting paid. I don’t even think I got free tickets for friends and family to come to my shows. There also wasn’t really a formal casting process - I think we had some kind of email system where we’d express interest in being part of a certain play, and then the founder would make decisions with the directors. Not the most ideal or ethical situation — and nonetheless a really formative experience. I loved being a professional actor. I loved going to rehearsals. I loved taking the C train home at midnight from Times Square after an evening performance. I didn’t love it when a drunk guy walked across the stage one night — but that’s a story for another time.I unfortunately missed A Doll’s House Part 2 when it came to Broadway. I’m confident I’ll get to see it staged one day, as it is literally one of the most performed plays in America. It was written by Lucas Hnath, who also wrote The Christians — a monologue I’ve used for auditions from a play I’ve come to love.And so, when I came across the script for A Doll’s House Part 2 at The Drama Bookshop, I couldn’t not read it.As I mentioned at the beginning, I had just signed a copy of the monologue anthology I’m featured in, The Best Women’s Stage Monologues of 2022. I didn’t know that the anthology would be there, but I really, really hoped it would be (hence the visit.)Here I was, an actor turned playwright in the new and improved version of a bookstore that means everything to me — holding a book that contained my own words. It was surreal and magical. I was floating. I couldn’t just leave and re-enter the outside world yet. And so, I wandered the bookshelves and looked at plays, like I had done so many times before.I spent a lot of time at the old Drama Bookshop. It was where I would go to hunt for monologues and often sneak a picture of one that I liked so that I wouldn’t have to buy the whole play (sorry Drama Bookshop — promise I have not done this since I was a teenager!) I would sit for hours, poring through pages and pages of scripts, some familiar and some new.I did the same on that July afternoon. I sat in a cozy armchair, ironically elevated on a stage, and read the sequel to one of my favorite plays — just a few feet from a shelf that now held my own words.A Doll’s House Part 2 picks up 15 years after the original play ends. I can’t really talk about the plot without spoiling it for you, which you’re welcome to do yourself, but I leave that choice to you.What I can say is that even if I were going to speak freely about this sequel, plot spoilers be damned — I still don’t think I’d have the words. I think that Storybook Undone, the song I wrote immediately after finishing A Doll’s House Part 2 are still the only real words I have.I’ll also borrow Lucas Hnath’s own words when asked about the enduring power of the original play. From a Vogue InterviewThe action that takes place at the end was a shock when it was first produced, and it’s still a shock today. The way that it’s built is it’s a couple that actually is failing to talk to each other for most of the play. Then you hit that final scene where Nora says, “We need to talk.” That is such a resonant moment, and it’s such a familiar moment, too. It cuts to the heart of a problem in all intimate relationships. Also, Ibsen is trying to define what freedom is and is identifying the ways in which we are not as free as we think we are. Fears about reputation and how we’re viewed in the world, and anxieties about money and social standing—I think those are all shackles that remain today.Freedom. I guess I can unequivocally say that both A Doll’s House and A Doll’s House Part 2 are about women and freedom. Perhaps liberation — more so than freedom. The process of finding freedom, and the freedom itself.The song I wrote after reading A Doll’s House Part 2 is about freedom.My circumstances are very different from Nora Helmer’s, and yet there are so many ways I can relate to her. She, a married mother of three in the 19th century, went from her father’s house to her husband's. I’m single and childless and living in the 21st century. She is White. I am Black. And yet, we both grew up with a great deal of financial privilege. We both struggled with our predetermined roles. We’ve both been underestimated. We’ve both longed for things outside of our current circumstances. There is a kind of freedom I have been chasing my whole life, personally and artistically. Figuratively and literally. The freedom to be myself, to say what I want to say, to be imperfect, messy, and unrestrained, and loved because of who I am, not in spite. Seeing my monologue, from a play I wrote on my couch in pajamas during quarantine, inside a published book, felt like freedom.The freedom I felt holding that book in my hands was less about fame and notoriety.It was more about the validation of seeing a seed of an idea that I had for a play about abortion, growing into this.Actors are now going to be able to flip through the same kind of anthology I used to pore over as a young actor. and choose my monologue as audition material. They already have — they email me and tell me about it sometimes. That is so freaking insane to me. The fact that people resonate with the words I transport from my heart and mind to the page is nothing short of magic to me. And so, after this magical, full-circle moment of *signing an anthology that contained my work, in a bookstore that felt like a second home in high school, the only thing to do was read the sequel to a play I loved in high school.And after reading that play, the only thing left to do was write a song. (Something else I loved to do in high school.)*A HUGE thank you to the Drama Bookshop employee who asked me to sign it, and put the ‘signed author copy’ sticker on the book!I hope you chase the things that feel like freedom.I hope you have the courage to let go of what no longer serves you.I hope you know that what’s best for you is what’s best for your people — there is no such thing as one way liberation (a phrase I first learned from Glennon Doyle, with thousands of examples on large and small scales across history.) There is always a ripple effect when you do the thing that frees you.I hope you walk through all the doors you need to, to find the life you want and deserve.You can listen to Storybook Undone below.PS I think Nora would love the play that my featured monologue comes from (The Flower and the Fury) — she is one million percent pro-choice. I also hope she’d love this song, which is kind of in her honor.PPS There’s a reference about walking through doors in the new song too — coming very soon! PPPS More about the play that my monologue in the anthology is from, here! This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit thenuancediaries.substack.com/subscribe

I am *not* a licensed mental health professional.RESOURCES available at AFSP and 988 and NAMI and one of my favorite resources for Black women and non-binary individuals, The Loveland Foundation. (These are also copied again at the end of the post.)Today is suicide prevention day. As I sit here writing this, it’s the night before. I had no idea that today was the exact day, as I was writing all this- truly. Eerie.I was going to publish this another time, but now I feel like it has to be today.I posted last year, around this time, about my unaliving attempts.And a lot of people in my life didn’t respond the way I expected. And that’s completely okay and valid. Seriously. And it was also kind of hard. And here I am, talking about it again.But this time — I’m talking directly to survivors (like myself) and people still considering it.Everyone else is welcome to read too. I totally encourage you to do so.I’m nervous to post this. I’m worried it’s imperfect. I know it’s imperfect.But I know that if I reach just one person, it’s enough. And I know that talking about suicide imperfectly is better than not talking about it at all. Because not talking about suicide does not prevent suicide. And talking about it doesn’t cause it. Those are just facts.That being said, take care of yourself, as always, and make the choice whether to read on or read something else - based on what is best for you today.When we tell people that we don’t want to be alive anymore, and they say ‘things will get better and you just need to hold on’ — I don’t think they realize how much they’re underestimating our pain.The idea of some hypothetical good future is no match for the excruciating pain that has made me/us no longer be on this planet.When I wanted to end my life, I didn’t need a distraction from the pain or a promise that it would get better. I needed someone to sit with me in it. I needed to know that it’s normal to feel this way. I needed to know that I wasn’t weak for feeling like I wanted to end it all. I needed to know that survival is hard and that I was capable of surviving.It doesn’t make sense on paper, but the surrender is what saves people.Glossing over the pain and throwing tons of coping strategies at us isn’t what saves usWhat saves us is realizing that it’s okay to need saving every day. There is no magic cure for the excruciating pain that life brings. There is nothing wrong with you if that pain feels insurmountable.You are not bad.You are not bad.You are not bad.Even if you’ve done “bad things”Even if you have “bad thoughts”I promise you from the bottom of my heart, you can feel all of these intense, sharp, agonizing feelings inside of you, and survive.I promise you from the bottom of my heart that ending your life will not solve anything — even if you’re 100% convinced that that’s true.So what do we do? If leaving all this pain behind isn’t the answer, what is?Survival. I think survival is the only answer.And you can do whatever you need to do to get through the night and survive.You can free yourself from the judgment of people who have no idea what you’re going through - and survive.I have no idea when it will get better.But I know that it can get better.But the only way it gets better is if you survive.It does not matter how close you are to the edge.If you are here reading these words, you have a chance to survive.And I hope to God that you take it.I’m really glad I did.I came very close to not taking that chance.Several times.My life is a miracle.The fact that I’m alive is a miracle.You are not exempt from miracles.You have that same chance.I won’t pretend to know your circumstances.I won’t pretend to know how hard whatever you’re facing is.You can admit that it’s hard.And scream at the sky.And rail at God.And think everything is impossible.And survive.You can think, ‘wow, she does not understand me at all, who the hell does she think is?’ and survive.As long as you are not hurting anyone, you can do whatever you need to do in this moment to survive.When I say “as long as you’re not hurting one’ — please know that that includes you.Please stay.Please stay.Please do whatever you need to do to stay.Below are some other pieces about surviving that you might enjoy.If writing like this is comforting to you or holds any value, and becoming a paid subscriber is not feasible at this time, just email me.If a paid subscription IS feasible for you at this time, consider becoming a paid subscriber to support someone who can’t afford it.RESOURCES available at AFSP and 988 and NAMI one of my favorite resources for Black women and non-binary individuals, The Loveland Foundation This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit thenuancediaries.substack.com/subscribe

Hi there, A lot has changed since I wrote this post back in August ‘25. As I sit here writing this update, it’s November 30th, ‘25. The first change, the name of this newsletter! It’s now The Nuance Diaries! The second thing, a post I never thought I’d publish, went viral. The third thing, and perhaps the most important — I went against pretty much everything I said in the essay below.Yes, I have posted some paywalled posts. But a lot of them have been free. I go to paywall something and then think, I don’t want to limit who gets to read this one, or this one, or this one. I believed everything I wrote below at the time I wrote it. I still like the piece, so I’m not deleting it. But I am changing my mind. One of my only life-long resolutions is that I can always change my mind.I’m going to keep paid subscriptions on. If you’re a paid subscriber, you will get everything + some occasional perks. And if you’re a free subscriber, you will get 99% - 100% of everything, too.I feel less attached to this metaphor about the ocean that you can read about below. But if I had to use it one more time, I’d say that maybe I’m not the ocean. I am certainly in the ocean. And I’ll write about the ocean forever.But the whole thing I wrote about absorbing all the debris and letting anyone say whatever they want and throw whatever they want into the ocean if there’s no seawall? I’m not feeling aligned with that mentality anymore.I have connected with a lot of people I might not have, if certain posts had been paywalled.And yes, there will always be people who try to pollute the beach. But I think the solution is to deal with those people as they come — not to restrict everyone’s access to the beach. The people who love it here at the beach have also been very kind to help me pick up litter (aka mean comments) when they come. If you’ve been here a while and want to pay to financially support my work, I deeply appreciate that. If you’re new and have the means to financially support my work, I deeply appreciate that.And if you don’t have that ability right now, that is also completely fine. I’m truly just so glad that you’re here. Does this change mean I don’t care about making money from writing anymore? Of course not. I still want money. I need money. We all do, in this fun little capitalist society. I’m probably going to write about that soon.I think I just want to make money in ways that feel good along the way. And it doesn’t actually feel good to limit who gets access to this kind of writing, at this point in time. Love you all,AlexaORIGINALLY WRITTEN IN AUGUST 2025 - paid policies have now changed (everything’s going to be free again), but I’m leaving the essay up.Remember when we would go back to school in September and talk about what we did that summer? If I had to answer that question today, in the context of how I spent my summer on Substack, here’s what I’d say – I did construction work on a beach. Huh? (That’s what I imagine my fellow classmates would say.) What I mean is, I built a seawall. You what? Okay, okay. Let me explain. Paywalls are often thought of as barriers that keep people out. Sea walls are literally built to contain the ocean in places where the land is vulnerable. The wall literally holds the waves.  (We’ll get into a deeper definition in just a second.) You can still come down to the beach. You can still get to the waves. With the sea wall in place, there are just different levels of entry. There is still something for everyone at each level, whether you’re up on the cliffs, at the shore, or swimming in the waves. You might be catching on to the fact that I didn’t actually build a literal sea wall. I did build a metaphorical one, though. And it’s going to change how things work here at Wild Cozy Free, going forward. “I am swimming for my life. I am swimming to shore. I am swimming like hell to get to shore.”Life RaftsIf you’ve been reading for the last few years, or even months, you know that this isn’t the first time I’ve used the metaphor of the beach and the ocean. In my first ever welcome essay here, I said that in my fantasies, “ Wild Cozy Free feels like looking out at the ocean from a lighthouse at sunset.”What I’ve realized in the last 2 years and change of writing here is that Wild Cozy Free doesn’t just feel like looking out on the ocean from a lighthouse. Wild Cozy Free is the ocean. It’s the beach. It’s the lighthouse.And because this blog is an extension of me, I am therefore also an ocean, beach, and lighthouse. I am in the waves and I am the waves.I created Wild Cozy Free so that I’d have a lighthouse and safe haven to house all of my messy, big, unfiltered feelings. And in doing that, my words became a lighthouse for you too..Right now, anyone can wander onto the beach. It’s an open coast. For the last two years, this open, gatless entry has felt expansive, freeing and exactly right. But lately, something has felt off. For a while, I haven’t been able to put my finger on it. But then out of nowhere, and right on time,  I remembered the title of a play I saw years ago called Seawall / A Life. And everything just clicked. *The plot of the play isn’t crucial to the rest of this essay, but for those interested, you can read more about it here. It’s described in part as “an exploration of love and the human need to know the unknowable,” which feels very fitting considering my own exploration of sea walls themselves lately.A seawall is a physical structure built along a coastline designed to protect the land from the force of waves and prevent erosion. It acts as a barrier between the ocean and the shore, absorbing and reflecting the power of the waves to stop them from washing away beaches, roads, homes, and infrastructure.Seawalls help slow down or stop the gradual breakdown of the land caused by constant wave action, storms, and rising tides. While the ocean remains wild and powerful, the seawall provides a stable edge where land and sea meet, keeping both safe.https://www.flickr.com/photos/mapplegate/1162785573https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Seawallventnor.jpgFor two years, Wild Cozy Free has been my ocean—raw, chaotic, vulnerable, and wide-open. I’m swimming in this ocean. I’ve invited you into this ocean. And I am this ocean. I created this space so I’d have a place to swim in the unfiltered truth and write about it freely. Here’s what happens in vulnerable areas, when there is no seawall between the ocean and the land, and the ocean crashes directly into the land: * Erosion pulls soil, sediment, trash, and manmade materials into the sea.* That debris disrupts the marine ecosystem—it muddies the water, affects animals, and pollutes the sea.* The ocean becomes cluttered, cloudy, and harder to breathe in.* The sea is forced to absorb the collapse of the land.* There’s no buffer between the sea and what needs protecting.Yeah. Not great. And if I’m the ocean (which I think I am), then that’s what it feels like when I share my writing with no boundaries. When I pour out my most vulnerable truths for anyone and everyone to consume.Without a seawall, I’m constantly absorbing things. I was never meant to hold: the projections, the noise, the silence, the misreadings. I’m cleaning up after the wave before I can let the next one crash.The tide is powerful, and it wants to move. But I often end up subconsciously holding it back.Trying not to say too much.Trying not to spill over.Trying not to be too much.I don’t know who’s reading. I don’t know what context they’re bringing. I end up absorbing everything. So many things that have nothing to do with me. And so naturally, I’m trying to clean up the beach in between the waves.To protect others—and to protect myself from being too exposed.This is what it feels like for me when everyone can access everything.My vulnerability becomes exhausting, not liberating. That’s what it means to swim without a seawall.*I’m aware that there is a lot of discussion on whether seawalls are good for the environment or not. As a reminder, this is a metaphor, and I am not advocating for or against literal sea walls because I have far too little information to take any kind of public stance on that.Here’s what happens when there is a seawall – * It shapes the waves instead of letting them crash endlessly.* The ocean still moves, but now it has a defined edge to meet.* It creates a barrier between the powerful force of the ocean and the vulnerable edge of the land.* The ocean stays cleaner, more coherent, and less burdened by the land’s breakdown.* The ocean can be wild, deep, and dynamic—without being destructive.And if I’m the ocean (which I’ve decided I am) The seawall doesn’t create a fortress. It builds a container.It gives me a clear, steady place to meet you.It’s not here to keep you out. I built it so that I can invite everyone who wants to be here all the way in.The sea wall is going to allow me to continue to be fully myself—expansive, emotional, powerful—without constantly harming or being harmedIt protects the emotional coastline I’ve worked hard to reclaim. It gives me a space to say the unsaid, without losing the shore beneath me. It’s what makes going deeper possible.It’s what makes it safe for me to invite you in even closerThis seawall holds the edge. And inside, we get to be unguarded, undone, and fully submerged.Without it, I’m constantly on edge, trying to hold back the tide—trimming my truth, softening the edges, reshaping the waves so they don’t spill too far onto the shore.Behind the seawall, I’m not worried about overflowing. I’m allowed to flood. To swim. To sink. To surface.And if you're here for that—if you're ready to wade in with me—welcome to the beach. The water’s warm. The walls are strong. And the truth is deep..This isn’t the place for polished soundbites. This is the deeper current. The saltier stuff.  Here, we can sink into wonder, grief, tenderness, rage, and reinvention. I can just… be. And let my writing do what it does best — help us all feel less alone. I wrote a whole other essay about that — a companion piece to this one because I didn’t want this to be super long. You can read it here, or finish this first. Dealer’s choice! How Things Will Work Going Forward - New Tiers. Here’s how the seawall is going to change how I share what I share. 🌊 The Shoreline ($7/month or $75/year)Step over the seawall onto the sand. Sit beside me as the tide meets the land. (I didn’t mean for that to rhyme, but I love the lyricism of it.) At this level, you’ll get… + At least one essay a week + access to my full archive of 100+ posts.If you’re new, you have so much to explore! If you’ve been here a while at a free membership level, there’s already never-before-seen paid content waiting for you, beyond the full archive that you’re familiar with (and get to keep access to!) And if you’ve been a weekly/yearly paid member for a while, first of all— thank you! Second, there’s something new for you, too. *I’ve updated most of the archive, but I’m still working my way through it (it’s tedious to change the settings one by one), so you do still have a littttle time to explore the waves/the essays before the seawall is complete. + Introducing The Authenticity Library (and so much more)Earlier this year, I very briefly tried to launch a new Substack called Beyond January. I already have two substacks (this one + New Yorker Goes West). It turns out, I don’t want to manage three and split my community a million ways! I love what I was starting to create over at Beyond January, so I’m moving everything from there over to here, and all of that content will be available to subscribers here at the shoreline.Head to Beyond January to see a preview of what will be available for you here starting Monday, August 18th. 🌊 Deep Blue Sea ($250+) There’s nothing like the ocean. Want to dive in? At this level, you’ll get… + Everything from the shoreline AND + Exclusive, early access to future projects like the second edition of Authentic by Alexa (coming this fall), my novel, my music, and all sorts of creative projects. + Voice notes (like a private podcast but far more personal) + 1:1 coaching session + Surprises. The ocean is full of surprises. Think of this space as a bit of a playground. I’m really excited for this. 🌊 Dispatches from the Sea (Free)Watch the waves from the cliffs. Breathe in the salt air. As I’m sure you’ve already picked up on, there is going to be a big shift in free vs. paid posts here going forward. To put it simply, I’m going to be posting less for free. Not nothing, but certainly less. Every now and then, I might send a message in a bottle from the waves / unlock a paid essay. But that won’t be the norm.I’m keeping all of the podcast episodes that are already free, free. Bonus episodes that are already for paid subscribers will stay that way. While there is some exclusivity in all of this language that I can’t avoid, here’s what I want you to know for sure.If Wild Cozy Free means something to you, you are part of this community. Full stop. Whether you choose to swim in the waves, stand on the shore, or watch from the cliffs. I appreciate every one of you more than you know. Thank you so much for being here.PS Who caught the Joyce Carol Oates reference in the subtitle ‘where I’m going, and where I’ve been’? It’s a riff on her acclaimed short story ‘Where Are You Going, Where Have You Been?’ It was a HUGE deal for me in high school. Definitely will write about that at some point. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit thenuancediaries.substack.com/subscribe

Quick announcement - I’ve decided to throw out my strict posting schedule. I’m still going to limit myself to emailing you once a week because I refuse to clutter your inbox. BUT in the meantime, over on Substack, I will be posting as much as I want, whenever I want.What does this actually mean, Alexa?I’ll still show up in your inbox once a week. Sometimes, I’ll post something and opt out of emailing it to you, and it will just show up on the Wild Cozy Free homepage. Whenever I email you, I’ll send links to what else I’ve posted lately so you can get caught up.This feels really freeing and right. I write a lot, and I’m excited to share more of my writing with you more often, without spamming your inbox. I think that this new approach is already forcing me to be less polished and more off the cuff, which is the point of Wild Cozy Free anyway.If you enjoyed this episode, I’d be honored if you’d click here and become a paid subscriber for $7/month! You can also leave me a tip of any amount here or at AlexaJJ on Venmo This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit thenuancediaries.substack.com/subscribe

This is a free preview of a paid episode. To hear more, visit thenuancediaries.substack.comI wrote this song about a year ago, and it’s one of my favorite songs I’ve ever written. The phrase “I know I’m working hard, and sometimes I can see it” came from one of my best friends during a conversation about how it can be hard to see our own progress when there’s no tangible ‘proof’ of how hard we’re working.To listen, upgrade to a paid subscription for $7/month or $75/year ($9 off!) at https://wildcozyfree.substack.com

Hi friends. It’s been a minute. Many minutes, hours, days, weeks, and months since I last published anything here.I have been doing a lot of writing and stopping and starting and stopping and rewriting and musing on what my first post back would be. I haven’t published anything personal that really speaks to what's going on with me in a while.I feel almost paralyzed with anxiety every time I sit down to write to you. I’ve gotten teary more than once. I get a few paragraphs in, and then I stop and start again. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit thenuancediaries.substack.com/subscribe

LINKS MENTIONEDhttps://www.sophiekinsella.co.uk Alexa's FB MarketplaceAuthenticity and Money Conversation w/Melissa MittEssay I Wrote About Selling My CoffeetableRead the full essay/transcript at wildcozyfree.substack.com. Excerpt below! “OK don't panic.”Books 1-6 in Sophie Kinsella’s brilliant Shopaholic series all start with those three words except for the one that begins with,"OK. I can do this, no problem."Some of Sophie Kinsella’s stand-alone novels start in a similar tone. The first line of My Not So Perfect Life reads,“First: It could be worse.”If you string those phrases together, your mantra might become,“OK don’t panic. I can do this, no problem. It could be worse.”Pretty good reminder for someone who finds themselves in a tricky predicament.And God knows, Becky Bloomwood (protagonist of the Shopaholic series) has been in plenty of those. Here are similarities that Becky and I now share, many years after I first started the beloved series —* We’re both writers* We both love shopping and luxury* We both share the same strong determination and willpower. In short, we’re creative problem solvers who don’t give up. Oh – and one more important similarity – We’re both facing sizable credit card debt.  This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit thenuancediaries.substack.com/subscribe

I am in my own lane I will not let myself downI am in my own place, I am my own houseI’m sitting on my living room floor on a chilly January Sunday. I just sold a coffee table I’ve never really liked, to a recent college graduate who loves it. She’s furnishing her first New York City apartment.I’ve been wanting to sell this table for a while, so I’m thrilled that it’s finally sold. And yet, I imagined I’d still be a little sad to walk back into my apartment and see the empty space where the table used to be. I was prepared to hold space for all the emotions.I walked back to my apartment and all I felt was relief, peace, and gratitude.I played Living Room Floor because these lyrics are now more appropriate than ever.Ain’t it something?Sitting cross-legged ‘cause we haven’t got a table yetsaving up gonna get a few chairs, get a whole setand I got my bed and my closet and a living room floorI got a living room floorand I got it deep down in my soulI also felt pretty damn excited and proud of myself, so I played this song next.Let’s throw a party! Somebody’s turning thirtyOoh and we ain't looked this good since we don’t even know since whenLet’s throw a party! I finally made some moneyOoh, and can you dig it, baby? I finally dig myself againAs I was lounging on my living room floor, singing along, contemplating whether or not booking a flight to Europe to see The Friends in concert is realistic, I heard Sammy Rae say this at the end of Let’s Throw a Party,Silver Spring, Maryland we love you so much. Thank you.Guess where the girl I just sold my coffee table graduated from a few months ago?Maryland.How magical is that?I just shared the story above with some friends in a group chat - and immediately wanted to share it with you too.I’m proud to say that I turned these friends into Sammy and The Friends fans after an incredible dance party.At the last Friends concert I went to (I’ve been to 4), Sammy Rae said that if you’ve never heard their music before - you should listen to this one first. I’ll add that you should watch the music video because it really gives you a sense of the Friends vibe.Once you’ve listened to that song (and have fallen in love with them), I recommend going back to the beginning and listening to Jackie Onassis*, Whatever We Feel, Kick It To Me, and of course, the songs I’ve mentioned above (Living Room Floor + Let’s Throw a Party) before sinking your teeth into the new album, Something For Everbody. *this song was the beginning of my bisexual awakeningMaybe you’ll find some new songs that will become the soundtrack for some of your life’s biggest moments too.And yes, I do consider selling my coffee table a big life moment. Money is tight right now, and I used part of the $ from this sale to pay my therapist, who I cannot wait to tell this story.If you’re looking for some fun new stuff for your closet, kitchen, and more (want a peloton?) Stay tuned for an upcoming essay where I’ll be talking about some more things that I’m selling + the inspiration behind my virtual garage sale of sorts.I’ll leave you with the lyrics from Coming Home Song I quoted in the intro of my book.Doing alright ain't a damn crimeFeeling it all for the first timeAnd you're just getting into your primeLeave a light on for yourselfPS This entire moment is brought to you by Marc Milone who introduced me to Sammy Rae and The Friends! Marc sent me Whatever We Feel out of the blue, and then I kept listening to the queue, and Jackie Onassis came on, and then they were like, “Wait, I only know that one song!” and now we are both obsessed. Marc is going on a BIG BIG exciting life adventure tomorrow, and I would be remiss if I didn’t use this shoutout to send them all the good vibes and love possible. It is truly the stuff of dreams. If you could send some great energy their way too - that would mean the world to me. Marc, I love you, DEEP. You’ve got this. Couldn’t be prouder of you. Don’t know where I’d be without you. Go crush it. PPS Check out my new substack, Beyond January! This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit thenuancediaries.substack.com/subscribe

You might be wondering what the hell I have to say to you that’s important enough that I’d post something on Christmas Eve. CHRISTMAS EVE!! A day often, rightfully reserved for last-minute shopping, cooking, seven fishes dinners, holiday movies, and maybe some semi-peaceful (or at least tolerable?) time with loved ones.Or maybe - you’re excited to be hearing from me, in which case…Either way, I deeply value your times so I’ll get right to it.If you’re having an amazing holiday season devoid of stress, stop reading and go enjoy yourself. Seriously. No sarcasm intended. I am SO happy for you. And deeply envious. But seriously - go enjoy yourself!But also — would you forward this to anyone you suspect might not be having an amazing holiday season devoid of stress? And if you’re reading this on Substack, would you share it with your community on notes? I would be SO grateful! Thank you!!Okay, so for those of us still here…I have promoted my Holiday Survival Kit more than anything I have ever created in my entire life. Not just as a coach, but also as a writer, and actor, and in all my endeavors. And a lot of the time, self-promotion feels really really icky. Like, I’m writing this at the last minute at 2AM on Christmas Eve. I did not plan to write to you today. I also scheduled an Instagram post that’s going out today. I feel icky and weird about that too. Maybe I’m not supposed to admit that, maybe the sales influencer people would yell at me. Oh well.Despite my discomfort with self-promotion, here’s the thing —If I don’t tell you about the value of the Holiday Survival Kit and all of the insights, tools, catchphrases, strategies for hard conversations, and real-life stories I poured into the on-demand bite-sized videos…If I don’t tell you about my personal survival guide with my favorite resources…If I don’t tell you about the guide full of prompts designed to help you figure out what you need to take care of yourself right now, and how to get it…If I don’t share any of that with you…Well, you won’t know about any of it!Maybe you don’t need a Holiday Survival Kit. If that’s the case, go ahead and click out of the tab and enjoy yourself.But if you could use some extra support…I’m here to help. And I’m not going to let my self-consciousness get in the way of reaching people who could this resource that I’ve poured my heart into. Inside the Holiday Survival Kit Party, you’ll learn…* how to stop stressing out about being a perfect hostess aka how to get out of the kitchen, avoid a mid-party meltdown, have fun at your own gathering, and even let your friends help you clean up (wild, I know. I did it and lived to tell the tale). * what to do when you’re dissociating at a holiday party and would rather be home watching Netflix * how to stop fixating on creating the “perfect holiday” * how to not lose your mind when your aunt (once again) tells you not to eat too much * how to avoid a trip to the ER over a peach cobbler (true story) * how to hold space for all of the fa la la la feelings that don’t quite seem to fit in with the tinsel and cheer, when the world tells you to put on a happy face (ex: loneliness and grief). * how to create authentic traditions * how to deck the halls with BOUNDARIES Okay, sounds intriguing but like, what IS the holiday survival kit party? Is it an actual party? Are you trying to get me to go to a party right now, Alexa? With other people? In clothes that aren’t sweatpants?Of course not. I would NEVER. Here’s how it works. Once you’re inside the “party”, you’ll get…* PRACTICAL TOOLSOver ninety minutes of carefully curated, on-demand recordings, broken down into eight sections. Inside, I share tools, tips, insights, mindset shifts, affirmations, and more, for navigating the holiday season with more intentionality and authenticity. (Scroll down to the ‘all the merry details section here for details on exactly what I talk about in each video). * THE HOLIDAY SURVIVAL KIT WORKBOOKa downloadable guide with thirty pages of prompts to help you create your very own custom kit!* MY HOLIDAY SURVIVAL KITwith allll of my custom recommendations. Sections include, but are not limited to, my favorite podcasts, TV shows and movies, books, tools for hard conversations, tips on setting boundaries, wellness tips, activities etc.* COMMUNITYaccess to our exclusive holiday survival kit facebook group, where you can share tips and commiserate! Maybe you think that it’s too late to benefit from a resource like this. I would probably think that, if I received an email like this. But here’s the thing — The story of the time I landed in the ER because of a peach cobbler, might reframe the way you look at other people’s needs vs. your own. And maybe that shift will change the way you interact with people for these last two weeks of the year and beyond.The resources I’ve collected for tending to the big, messy emotions like loneliness and grief, might be the very resources you’ve been needing to help you feel seen in your pain.I’ve been told by many, many people that my synopses of holiday movies (Christmas Inheritance and Princess Switch to be exact) are the funniest thing they’ve ever heard. You will definitely walk away from that video realizing just how ridiculous holiday movies can be, and that real life is quite different. And that the holidays don’t have to be perfect to be fun, cozy, or whatever you want this time of year to feel like.Oh, and the Deck The Halls with Boundaries section will *definitely* leave you with some new, unique, very effective ideas for what to say or do during impossibly uncomfortable conversations. The mindset shift/tools/insights you need to avoid a screaming match might be just a click away!It is definitely never too late for any of these things. Here’s what definitely WON’T happen after you watch the Holiday Survival Kit Party:All your stress will be goneYou’ll have a perfectly magical holiday seasonHere’s what WILL happen: You’ll have the tools to reduce your stressYou’ll learn what your priorities are for the end of the yearYou’ll develop more compassion for yourselfYou’ll get permission to take care of yourself and have whatever kind of holiday season you wantYou’ll spend time with someone who loves and hates the holidays, who is tired of the pretenses and bullshit, and ready to get real about what’s hard about the holidays + how she handles it(It’s me, the someone is me.)You can pay in full for $222 or two installments of $111.If cost is a barrier, please please email me back at [email protected] or DM me over on Instagram at @alexajordancoaching.If you want the Holiday Survival Kit Party, I want you to have it.I want you to have access to this resource, and I want to meet you where you are. It’s that simple. That’s what Holiday Survival Kit Party is all about. I’m 100% confident we can figure something out.You can also totally reach out if you have questions. I’ll be a little slower to respond due to holiday festivities and merriment- but I *will* respond when I see your message!You can also check out these FAQs (abbreviated here, full version on my website).* What if I’ve never taken a course like this before?Think of Holiday Survival Kit Party as less of a sit-down, traditional course, and more of a long Facetime/zoom chat with a friend who gets it, and tells it like it is. Consider me your go-to BFF for all things Holiday-related!(I honestly even hestitate to call it a course - that is just the closest thing I can describe it as!) * I’m so busy already — how will I find the time for this? Why should I add another thing to my calendar/to-do list this holiday season?!The longest video is 20 minutes. I designed these recordings to be bite-sized and digestible for even the busiest schedules.You can literally watch/listen to these modules on your lunch break, on the plane ride home or on the car ride over to your friend’s house. You can even listen on the subway if you want!* I’d love to join, but I’m not sure if the Holiday Survival Kit will speak to my situation.The Holiday Survival Kit Party is designed to meet you where you are — whether you’re hosting, visiting family, dreaming of a solo holiday, or sick of the holidays. I focus on tools and strategies you can adapt to your unique needs, and use in a wide variety of scenairios. Also, there are SO many resources included. There is truly something for everyone in hereOkay, that’s all I’ve got for you.I hope you love hanging out inside the Holiday Survival Kit Party and that it brings you more of what you need right now, whether that be peace, validation, tools, laughter, solace etc.No matter what you’re going through, you are not alone in your struggle. Even when it feels like it. I can promise you that.Merry Christmas, ya filthy animals.To those who don’t celebrate — Happy December 25th.Happy Kwanzaa. Happy Hanukkah. Merry Happy Everything.PS Can I ask you a quick favor? I know, I’ve already taken quite a bit of your time, I’ll be quick!Would you send this to someone you think might be interested in the Holiday Survival Kit Party? And if you’re reading this on Substack, would you share it with your community on notes? I would be SO grateful! It seriously goes a long way. Thank you!!PPS I wrote a book that’s perfect for the 20-somethings in your life, if you’re still looking for a gift! PPPS I’m so deeply appreciative of everyone in the Wild Cozy Free communiy. Seriously, you’re the greatest. FREE RESOURCES This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit thenuancediaries.substack.com/subscribe

Hello friends, We’re a week away from Thanksgiving.Which likely means you’ll be asking Jesus to take the wheel any day now. While I do not have Jesus’ direct extension line, I do have something else that can help.MY HOLIDAY SURVIVAL KIT PARTY! I want to share these tools, resources, and insights about surviving the holidays with as many people as possible before Thanksgiving next week.WHY?Because the Holiday Survival Kit Party is what I’d want to watch and listen to on the way home for Thanksgiving, on the floor of an airport, Or - while staving off an anxiety attack in my childhood bedroom, Or - while taking deep breaths on the way to see family who voted differently than me in the election. Or - while getting ready to spend Thanksgiving alone. Or - while wishing I was spending Thanksgiving alone. Or - on the way to an AMC theatre to see Wicked ;) That’s why I’m running a HUGE PRE-BLACK FRIDAY SALE! Everyone who becomes an *annual paid subscriber* between now and Sunday, November 24th at midnight EST will get access to the Holiday Survival Kit Course.When you get in on this PRE-Black Friday deal, you get access to everything at a *crazy* and exclusive steal of just $60.  Talk about “new levels unlocked!”Here’s the official list of exactly what you’re getting for $60 bucks (instead of the est. value of $350! 🫢):* PRACTICAL TOOLS Over ninety minutes of carefully curated, on-demand recordings, broken down into eight sections. Inside, I share tools, tips, insights, mindset shifts, affirmations, and more, for navigating the holiday season with more intentionality and authenticity. We’re talking about the stress of being a “perfect” hostess, decking the halls with boundaries, navigating big, messy emotions, creating authentic traditions, and more! * DOWNLOADABLE HOLIDAY SURVIVAL KIT WORKBOOK with thirty pages of prompts to help you create your very own custom kit!* MY PERSONAL HOLIDAY SURVIVAL KIT with alllll of my custom recommendations.Sections include but are not limited to, my favorite podcasts, TV shows and movies, books, tools for hard conversations, tips on setting boundaries, wellness tips, activities etc.* COMMUNITYAccess to our exclusive holiday survival kit facebook group, where you can share tips and commiserate! Available to everyone who takes the course + all workshop participants.This sale is only available for *annual* subscribers. You will not receive access to the course if you have a monthly subscription. Learn more about what’s included in the course at the link below. PS - I’m pretty much only advertising this on Substack and to people who already subscribe to my newsletters, so this sale is truly exclusive to you guys!PPS - If you’re ready for a dose of the Holiday Survival Kit Party right this minute, check out what happens when a widowed cafe owner accidentally brings a snowman to life in my new favorite holiday movie. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit thenuancediaries.substack.com/subscribe

Transcript at wildcozyfree.substack.comThe Holiday Survival Kit Party (Both on demand course access and live workshop tickets) is ON SALE until midnight PST. For SIXTY PERCENT off.I created the Holiday Survival Kit Party series because I wanted to give people the tools and resources that I’ve used over the last few years to bring more intentionality and authenticity to the holiday season.I LOVE the holidays, and I am finally ready to admit that this time of year stresses me out. I am holding space for the duality of…loving twinkly lights, Hallmark movies, Christmas cookies, and holiday partiesANDbeing anxious about how to handle a busy calendar, interactions with relatives, seasonal affective disorder, and all the big, messy emotions that we’re constantly pressured to repress amidst the holly jolly of it all.I wanted to create a space where you could learn how to have less stress, and more intentionality and authenticity during the holiday season, so that you can actually enjoy the holiday season - not just survive!I also wanted to make the Holiday Survival Kit as accessible as possible - which is why I’m so excited to announce that it will be available as an on demand course starting THIS FRIDAY!Inside both the on-demand course and live workshop, you’ll get the gift of…➕ PRACTICAL TOOLS for navigating the holiday season with more intentionality and authenticity➕ COMMUNITY; access to our exclusive holiday survival kit group available to all workshop participants, for sharing tips and commiserating!At the live workshop, you’ll also experience intimate group discussions with fellow participants!➕ ACCESS TO MY HOLIDAY SURVIVAL KIT with allll my favorite recommendations. AND I’ll continue adding to it over the holiday season!Sections include but are not limited to my favorite holiday-themed podcasts, TV shows and movies, books, tools for hard conversations, tips on setting boundaries, wellness tips, + my favorite holiday activities➕ DOWNLOADABLE GUIDE with step-by-step, easy-to-follow instructions for how to make your very own holiday survival kit!➕ ON DEMAND RECORDING of the workshop, with access to all the resources and tools I share.If you come to the live workshop, you’ll automatically get access to the on-demand recording too!Oh and also… you can literally throw your own holiday survival kit party! Invite some friends to watch the on-demand recording with you, and make your Holiday Survival Kit together!An intimate party where you can connect with your people on a deeper level and foster authenticity and intentionality is my kind of party.To summarize, here are the different ways you can experience a Holiday Survival Kit Party.- buy the on-demand course- attend a live virtual workshop on 11/13, 11/17, 11/21 or 11/24- *throw your own holiday survival kit party and watch the on-demand course with friends!- **contact me about hosting and facilitating a private virtual workshop for your group*If you’re selecting this option, email me at alexajordancoaching@gmail. to get a group rate instead of buying numerous packages!**The same goes for this option; we’ll discuss what you’re looking for and set up something custom!Okay, that’s it.Hope you’re taking care of yourself. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit thenuancediaries.substack.com/subscribe

Click below after you watch/listen!https://www.alexajuanitajordan.com/myshop/p/holidaysurvivalkitAt the party, you’ll get the gift of…➕ PRACTICAL TOOLS for navigating the holiday season with more intentionality and authenticity➕ COMMUNITY; intimate group discussions centering the challenges of the holiday season through an authentic lensTopics include but are not limited to…Dealing with family members you don’t get along with Loneliness Navigating grief Toxic positivity and 24/7 holiday cheerBOUNDARIES! Balancing a busy calendar full of holiday-centric events Fixating on creating the "perfect" holiday➕ MORE COMMUNITY; access to our exclusive holiday survival kit group available to all workshop participants, for sharing tips and commiserating!➕ ALLLL OF MY CUSTOM RECOMMENDATIONS; access to my personalized holiday survival kit — which I’ll continue adding to over the holiday season!Sections include but are not limited to…PodcastsTV Shows and MoviesBooksTools for Hard Conversations➕ DOWNLOADABLE GUIDE with step-by-step, easy to follow instructions for how to make your very own holiday survival kit!➕ WORKSHOP RECORDING and access to all resources, tools, and takeaways shared! This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit thenuancediaries.substack.com/subscribe

Click here to subscribe so you never miss an episode!With over a decade of experience in print and digital media, Kevin McSpadden is a seasoned journalist adept at crafting engaging and informative stories. Kevin’s background as a writer, copyeditor, and production manager has instilled in him the value of teamwork, attention to detail, and a commitment to fair reporting.Kevin has navigated diverse environments—from dynamic digital startups to established newspaper brands—and successfully built a thriving freelancing career along the way.Kevin is the founding writer of A6 - Where the world happens here on Substack.“A6 aims to bring nuance to the way we think about the world and was born out of a simple premise: The way we consume news amplifies the most important stories but buries smaller updates that help us understand what is happening in the world.”Click here to check out takeaways, quotes, and links over at the blog. And while you're there - learn more about Authenticity Office Hours, where we have group discussions chatting about topics like these! I'll be announcing our November sessions next week! Have you checked out New Yorker Goes West? I’m writing all about my new chapter in California, as a lifelong New Yorker.This is not your average travel blog. This is a raw, unflinching, intimate look into what it’s like to leave the life you’ve always known behind and begin a new one, miles away.Will I share great recommendations for fish tacos? Of course.Will it all be sunshine and palm trees and smiles and Instagrammable selfies? Nope.But yeah, there is quite a bit of sunshine. And palm trees. I’m a fan.Head to https://newyorkergoeswest.substack.com to check it out. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit thenuancediaries.substack.com/subscribe

Click here to subscribe so you never miss an episode!Melissa is an Accredited Financial Counselor® & Coach who walks alongside purpose-driven entrepreneurs in getting comfy with money, both in their business and personal lives. Her finance journey truly began once she realized that life after college couldn’t be forged on student loans and credit cards. She’s experienced various versions of self-employment for 16+ years, so her zone of genius is understanding the flow of money from the moment it enters the business to when it leaves the personal checking account. She's a full-time RVer with her husband, and their free time is spent on the lake or checking out the latest restaurant.Click here to check out takeaways, quotes, and links over at the blog. There are a LOT of great links and resources for this one!And while you're there - learn more about Authenticity Office Hours, where we have group discussions chatting about topics like these! Next one coming up on 10/22 where we're talking about Authenticity and, you guessed it, MONEY! (Link above!)Have you checked out New Yorker Goes West? I’m writing all about my new chapter in California, as a lifelong New Yorker.This is not your average travel blog. This is a raw, unflinching, intimate look into what it’s like to leave the life you’ve always known behind and begin a new one, miles away.Will I share great recommendations for fish tacos? Of course.Will it all be sunshine and palm trees and smiles and Instagrammable selfies? Nope.But yeah, there is quite a bit of sunshine. And palm trees. I’m a fan.Head to https://newyorkergoeswest.substack.com to check it out. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit thenuancediaries.substack.com/subscribe

Have you checked out New Yorker Goes West? I’m writing all about my new chapter in California, as a lifelong New Yorker.This is not your average travel blog. This is a raw, unflinching, intimate look into what it’s like to leave the life you’ve always known behind and begin a new one, miles away.Will I share great recommendations for fish tacos? Of course.Will it all be sunshine and palm trees and smiles and Instagrammable selfies? Nope.But yeah, there is quite a bit of sunshine. And palm trees. I’m a fan.Head to https://newyorkergoeswest.substack.com to check it out._____________________________________________________________Click here to check out takeaways, quotes, and links over at the blog.And while you're there - learn more about Authenticity Office Hours, where we have group discussions chatting about topics like these! Next one coming up on 10/15 where we're talking about Authenticity and TRAVEL. (Link above!) This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit thenuancediaries.substack.com/subscribe

Have you checked out New Yorker Goes West? I’m writing all about my new chapter in California, as a lifelong New Yorker.This is not your average travel blog. This is a raw, unflinching, intimate look into what it’s like to leave the life you’ve always known behind and begin a new one, miles away.Will I share great recommendations for fish tacos? Of course.Will I tell you about my favorite comfort shows? Absolutely.Will it all be sunshine and palm trees and smiles and Instagrammable selfies? Nope.But yeah, there is quite a bit of sunshine. And palm trees. I’m a fan.Head to https://newyorkergoeswest.substack.com to check it out.___________________________________________________________________________"Mika is a mother of four from New Zealand who finds joy in family, good food, and being by the water. After nearly a decade as an in-house graphic designer, she made a bold leap in 2023, leaving the corporate world to embrace the unknown. Through her Substack, musings by mika, she shares her journey of redefining success. Along the way, Mika began offering practical tips to help fellow writers thrive on Substack. Known for her warm, open-hearted writing, Mika has created a supportive community where writers find connection, growth, and inspiration."Coming off of last night’s incredible conversation about authenticity and community, I couldn’t be more excited to introduce you to Mika, or as I like to call her ‘the substack muse’ (a title she humbly refutes, but others agree with!)Mika has created the definition of an authentic community, through her raw vulnerability. She hosts an incredible thread called “Find Your Tribe” that you absolutely have to check out.I’m also totally honored to say that this was Mika’s very first interview in this forum! You totally would never guess that though, she’s a pro :)Click here to check out takeaways, quotes, and links over at the blog. And while you're there - learn more about Authenticity Office Hours, where we have group discussions chatting about topics like these! This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit thenuancediaries.substack.com/subscribe

Have you checked out New Yorker Goes West? I’m writing all about my new chapter in California, as a lifelong New Yorker. This is not your typical travel blog. Or your typical cross-country adventure.What does “typical” really even mean?This is a raw, unflinching, intimate look into what it’s like to leave the life you’ve always known behind and begin a new one, miles away.Will I share great recommendations for fish tacos? Of course. Will I tell you about my favorite comfort shows? Absolutely.Will it all be sunshine and palm trees and smiles and Instagrammable selfies? Nope.But yeah, there is quite a bit of sunshine. And palm trees. I’m a fan.”Kelsey Abbott is a Certified Professional Coach, Certified Performance Coach, Human Design Guide, Writer and Instigator of Joy who helps her clients and readers become the wonderful weirdos their souls want them to be. Kelsey loves animals, bright colors, contagious laughter and bounce houses. She races triathlon for Team USA, loves being in nature and is a proud dog mom to Zumi and Tashi.”On Kelsey’s website, she says, “I’m here to be sparkly AF.I’m here to tell you that she is 100% doing just that.Kelsey’s energy is boundless and palpable. She is constantly pursuing more and more alignment in her life. She is also deeply committed to helping others do the same - as you’ll learn doing this incredible conversation.We bonded over hating our former jobs in cubicles, having windy career/life journeys, diving into life coaching unexpectedly, and so much more.She’s such an incredibly generous and empowering person, and I loved getting to spend some time in her presence. Incredibly grateful to get to know her, and to now call her a friend.This conversation genuinely has something for everyone. If you’re an athlete, a scientist, a life coach, a sports coach, or none of the above.If you’re a fan of positive psychology, sports psychology, or human design, or if you’ve never heard of other of any of those things.If you’re curious about how all of these different topics have intertwined in Kelsey’s journey.If you want to learn about self-sabotage, giving yourself permission, being more authentic, and doing the things that light you up.If you just want a dose of inspiration, curiosity, and empowerment.This one is for you.PS - scroll down to get your free human design chart on Kelsey’s website. As you’ll hear in this conversation - mine was very validating and helped *a lot* of things click for me! TAKEAWAYS * Write for one person, that one reaction, that one email that says ‘because of you, I…” Your story can help someone else create their own.* Knowing our Human Design can help us peel back the layers of who we’ve been told to be so that we can start living the way we were meant to. It’s largely about rediscovering who we are.* Your Human Design combines astrology, the chakra system, the Kabbalah tree of life, and the I Ching.* So much of life is about remembering who you are and coming back to being that person.* Happiness is a muscle, and following your curiosity can be a practice.QUOTES* “I get to do it this way? Is that legal?”* “You’ve gotta give up the good to go for the great. And also…how good is that thing really? Do you really love it, or is it just convenient?”* “Some people know exactly what they want. Some people will never know exactly, so the universe always surprises and delights us.”* “I’m really grateful that as a teenager I learned, that just because you’re good at something doesn’t mean you have to do it. What if we all learned that at 16 and not 40?”* “My biggest gift is being super intuitive.”* “Manifesting Generators are warrior buddhas wise and powerful; we’re the ones who can sit still and move constantly.”* “Authenticity means living in alignment with my soul blueprint.”* “You have all the answers for you and I have all the answers for me.”* “I didn’t try to write the story based on my first 100 meters.”LINKSKelsey’s Website Get Your Free Human Design ChartSee you next week, when I’ll be sharing my conversation with Mika - who is one of the mutual Substack friends that brought Kelsey and me together! This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit thenuancediaries.substack.com/subscribe

Welcome back to the What Authenticity Means to Me series, where I talk to people I admire about what authenticity means to them! (You can also listen anywhere you get your podcasts.)Wild Cozy Free is a community for like-minded souls committed to being their authentic, vulnerable, messy selves. I post a personal essay or conversation from this ongoing series every week, and publish additional work for paid subscribers.Check out my reintroduction post from my one year substack anniversary, to learn more about me and the origins of this blog!In a snapshot, I’m a writer and coach, who has also been an actor, associate producer, fourth-grade teacher, temp receptionist, development associate, and much more.I help people create lives that feel as good as they look. I’m curious about the business of being human; all of the nuanced details, emotions, and attributes that make up who we are.I’m currently offering discounted individual sessions to celebrate 100 hours of coaching! I’m close to receiving my ACC credential and it feels so surreal! Check out the details in the post here.______________________________My bestie of almost a *decade* is on the podcast and I couldn’t be more excited!Sonia Goldberg (she/they) is a performer, writer, educator, and a proud Chicago native, here to stay. Recent acting credits include American Psycho the Musical (Kokandy Productions), Pippin (Music Theater Works), A Midsummer Night’s Dream (Oak Park Festival Theatre), and Princess Winnifred in Once Upon a Mattress at Theo, for which they received a Jeff Award Nomination for Best Performer in a Principal Role. Sonia has also collaborated with Chicago Shakespeare Theater, Chicago Children’s Theatre, Northlight Theatre, First Floor Theater, Montana Shakespeare in the Parks, and many more.As a writer, her TYA choose-your-own-adventure play Think Fast, Jordan Chase! was developed through Filament Theatre’s SPARK program in 2021, which led to its World Premiere in 2023. Sonia was recently chosen as a finalist for Definition Theatre’s New Play Commission, Amplify (Series 4). She works in the education department at Court Theatre, and is a company member with Playmakers Lab.They’ve studied at Butler University, LAMDA, and The Moscow Art Theatre School. Sonia is represented by Grossman & Jack Talent. www.soniagoldberg.com, IG: @soniagoldbergYou can catch Sonia starring in Into The Woods as The Baker’s Wife - grab your tickets here!___________________________This was so much fun. I learned so much more about Sonia through this conversation - and it’s such a privilege to get to know someone on an even deeper level, after years and years of friendship.We dive into our friendship origin story, the times she’s made me cry (on stage!), authenticity in the world of performing, being genuinely happy and healthily envious of your friends, and so much more.I’m particularly glad that we got to talk about the nuance of envy vs. jealousy, as Brené discusses in Atlas of the Heart! Jealousy essentially means, ‘I want what you have and I don’t want you to have it.’ It often comes up in friendships of three or more. Envy means, ‘I want what you have, but I want you to have it too.’ Like when you see a picture of someone on the Amalfi Coast and wish that you too were drinking Aperol Spritz by the water. You’re only jealous of that friend, if you think that you should be in Italy and they shouldn’t.Oh and by the way, Sonia is the friend I’m always talking about when I talk about why I became a life coach and how my friend’s mom was so pivotal in the beginning of that journey. Sonia is that friend! Linda is her mom! The porch is Sonia’s childhood porch!Safe to say, my life would be very different without Sonia in it. It brings me so much joy to introduce her to the Wild Cozy Free community. As the critics say…“My reasons must be clear- if you see this show, you will fall in love with a girl named Sonia!-Broadway World, On Sonia’s Performance in Once Upon a Mattress (‘22)If you listen to this podcast, you’ll fall in love with a girl named Sonia. And your life will be all the better for it.Some Quotes“If you know what you’re talking about, the audience will know what you’re talking about. Trust yourself, and trust them.”“I’m obsessed with criticism…for the most part, I’ve had educators and tutors who have seen how close I am to something and went ‘Ooh how do I get you there!”“Whenever I’m up for any part at all, I know that I’m going to be myself. And if they want my interpretation or my essence in that role, they know where to find me! But as they’re surveying their options and picking the colors for the painting they’re going to make, if they don’t pick my beautiful vibrant color, that does not detract from what I’m bringing to the table.”“I’m capable of softness in this body, in this identity, and in this intention.”Some LinksSonia's WebsiteSonia’s InstagramTicket Link for Into the Woods (You might see a familiar face in the audience depending on what performance you go to! It’s me. I’m the familiar face.)Sonia’s RepresentationPart 2 coming soon for paid subscribers of all levels! Consider upgrading your membership to gain access to this episode, extended versions of past What Authenticity Means to Me episodes and more. (Just click here - https://wildcozyfree.substack.com)Wondering why I offer paid subscriptions? Wrote a whole post about that - and interestingly, I think it’s my second most read overall! It's available at the website above :) This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit thenuancediaries.substack.com/subscribe

I decided to become a life coach out of nowhere while sitting on my friend’s parents’ back porch in Chicago.My friend Sonia’s mom (shout out to Linda!) was telling me about her unexpected journey into fitness coaching. (She’s a lawyer as well!) She told me how much this new career had added to her life.And then out of nowhere, I heard myself say,“I’m thinking about looking into life coaching.”“You would be so great at that,” Linda replied.Fast forward a year and many, many. clients later...I’ve now created the same safe space that Linda created for me, for so many people. A past client literally called me last week to tell me that they quit their job and are headed abroad to follow their dream of teaching at wellness retreats around the world. How amazing is that?!?! I can’t describe what it feels like to be a small part of that incredible journey.I’m ten hours away from ONE HUNDRED hours of coaching - and I want to celebrate by offering *ten* hour-long single coaching sessions at the discounted price of $250.Individual coaching sessions might be perfect for you if…* you’re considering making a big change* you’re trying to make a big decision and need some clarity* you’re unsure of your next steps and want to figure out  the next right thing for you* you’re thinking about pursuing a longer coaching engagement, and want to tip your toe in the waterEach session, Alexa centered active listening which allowed me to engage with spacious thinking. She did this amidst balancing the coaching structure with her own creativity. But perhaps the most meaningful: She asks powerful yet simple questions that lead to deep self-inquiry; she is looking to get to the crux of who you are and what you want from this life. Focusing on both minute practices/changes and big-picture ideas, Alexa helped me see how what I didn’t realize I wanted dances with the present moment. These sessions were practical yet imaginative. Questions? DM me at @alexajordanjoaching or reach out at [email protected] Catch up on the What Authenticity Means to Me series interviews + read/listen to the unabridged essay where I talk about why I love coaching so much here (written/recorded like an hour after I finished my certification last summer, the memories!) This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit thenuancediaries.substack.com/subscribe