TUESDAY, 29 SEPTEMBER

/ pick an option

take one before you read the card

three below. take whichever one you flinched at. the flinch is the useful signal here, not the reasoning.

one. the person from school whose life you keep half following. two. the sentence you say about yourself in company. three. the thing you would have done by now if you were on schedule.

hold on to it. the card comes first, your answer is underneath everything.

choose one, then scroll

TODAY'S CARD

THE MOON

 

XVIII

the moon is the card of the picture that is not quite accurate, and it shows up for women running a comparison they never agreed to enter.

everybody else appears to be managing. that is not a coincidence and it is not evidence. you are seeing the finished, photographed, mentioned-in-passing version of other people's lives and setting it against your own unedited footage, which you have watched every frame of.

the harshness gets aimed inward because it feels like accuracy. a woman who would never let anybody speak to her friend that way will describe herself in two flat sentences and call it being realistic about it.

tuesday, early enough in the week to catch it. the description you use about yourself was assembled, mostly out of other people's offhand remarks, and a thing that was assembled can be taken apart and looked at.

what is worth leaning into today: noticing the sentence you reach for when somebody asks how you are getting on.

what is worth staying away from: using anybody else's visible life as a measuring stick. the parts you would need to see are precisely the parts nobody shows.

my advice for today: write down the harshest thing you believe about yourself, then write down who first said it. quite often the handwriting turns out not to be yours.

what is the sentence you use about yourself in company. i am curious whether you would sign your name to it.

 

option one. the person from school you keep half following

you do not really know them any more. you know their announcements. the holiday, the kitchen, the grown child doing well, and it arrives in your evening without any warning.

worth asking what you actually feel when it lands. often it is not envy so much as a kind of time panic, a sense that the clock is further along than you had accounted for. that is a real feeling and it deserves attention, though the woman on the screen is not the cause of it. she is only the timestamp. the honest move is to look away from her and ask what specific thing you want more of, because that question has an answer and comparison never does.

option two. the sentence you say about yourself in company

the self-deprecating one, delivered lightly, that gets a laugh and closes the subject down before anybody can look too closely.

it is doing a job. it beats everybody else to the criticism, which feels like control. the cost is that you say it often enough to start believing it, and the people around you take it at face value because why would they not. try leaving it out once this week. do not replace it with a boast, just leave the gap where it was. the conversation survives, and so does the version of you that did not need apologising for in advance.

option three. the thing you would have done by now

the schedule nobody ever wrote down. married, settled, promoted, finished, moved by a certain age. most of us are carrying one and very few of us chose it.

the useful question is when it got set. usually somewhere around twenty, by a young woman with no information at all about the life you would actually be handed. she meant well and she was working with almost nothing. you are allowed to revise her schedule now that you know what the years are made of, and revising it is not a lowering of standards. it is updating a document written by somebody who had not read the brief.