if none of this is true

A lot can happen in a year so if none of this is true, take hope that you’re a dreamer and creator, for yourself and others. More good will come your way. More magic is left in this life yet. You can also create your own. Never forget it.

The above landed in my email this morning as part of a letter I wrote my future self on January 1st, 2024. and I couldn’t help but laugh at the “a lot can happen in a year” quip. This year has sucked in so many ways. Let me count the ways: One of my brothers died and the second time I ever saw him in my life was to watch him get buried on a hot summer day. I herniated some discs, had a hellish recovery, and then managed to hurt my back again to a lesser degree on election day. I just recently recovered from that in the last week or so. At the peak of my recovery from the disc injuries, I could barely walk around the neighborhood for 10 minutes at a time.

My mom had a minor stroke in January, around the same time that I let my friend’s two dogs in the backyard to play only to have them end up dead on a highway nearby with no answers as to how they got out and when. I’ve since been haunted by repeat dogs running into roads or running near roads, causing an immediate trauma reaction to try to protect them. This included running after one at a gas station somewhere in Utah, my shoes caked in mud and my lungs burning in the cold air as I chased it far away from the highway exit it was trying to walk up. I’ve never had so many close calls with dogs in my life. My mom was “lucky” with her stroke yet the impacts remain and I feel how limited I can show up on the opposite side of the country. I began getting hives and having swollen hands/feet starting January 20th, a likely stress response that has lessened these days but still flares up. My doctor has no answers.

I was diagnosed with achilles tendinosis in both legs right as I was recovering from my back injury in May, setting off a long recovery journey that I’m still on. I managed to get cleared to dribble for 15 min in November as I was coming up on one year of not playing soccer. I regularly dream of playing full field games and hiking big mountains. The recovery remains very slow and steady. I got a very painful and scary salivary gland infection that was completely bizarre right after my birthday. I missed WordCamp Europe in Italy due to my back injury and missed State of the Word in Japan due to getting sick two days before my flight. I missed most of a vacation in North Carolina to see my extended family after falling sick a few days in, missing out on precious days with my smallest cousins.

I went to a book event for an adoption-related book only to have the author act disgusted by a surrogacy-related question I had, and a miscommunication about someone being born through surrogacy being in the audience led me to a full-blown panic attack in public. I don’t really know how I made it home as I was so full of anger and anxiety that a room full of adoptees and, in theory, more aware folks would let me believe for even a moment that I had found someone born through traditional surrogacy. I left vibrating with an overflow of emotions. The aftermath led to new boundaries for me in speaking about fertility topics and a major break in a close friendship that has yet to resolve. I cannot stay silent anymore about this part of myself.

Other than one incredible camping trip in Montana where I mountain biked instead of hiked, I have not been deep in nature in the way that soothes my soul. I have not run for hours on a soccer field or felt my legs burn on a long bike ride. I did manage to sleep outside solo for the first time twice this summer and two other times with my lovely partner. Travel became far more limited when I wasn’t sure if I could carry my backpack, sit for X hours on a flight, or walk the necessary distance to get around.

Alongside all of the above is the intense drama unfolding in the WordPress community since WordCamp US in September. After my 10 year anniversary at Automattic, it felt like being dropped off of a cliff to wake up day after day after day with a barrage of new information, accusations, assumptions, etc. In all, 160+ of my coworkers left due to severance offers (I don’t know the exact amount off the top of my head) and I scrambled to stay connected. So many left that I’ve been terrible at keeping in touch, overwhelmed by the sheer number and how devastating it is to know I won’t see their faces at our company wide meetup next year. Part of the beauty of working at Automattic is that you get to connect with folks in 90+ different countries. Part of the downside is when folks leave, you literally may never see them again and it’s heartbreaking. Add into this reading countless accusations about everyone who works at Automattic and watching people I have deeply respected be so deeply divided. Again and again, I return to our users and the duty to them to find a way forward. Users like my dad who runs numerous websites on WordPress. Who has consistently championed the open web for them over decades? I know my answer, I know where I want to keep pushing, and I know my very firm limits.

There’s something particularly awful about waking up to news articles written about something you’re living. It brings me back to high school when a teammate was crushed by a car driven by another teammate, lost one leg, barely kept the other, and it somehow made national headlines. I’d walk into class and be greeted by a front page story about the event, sometimes with incorrect facts and romanticized details. Other times with painstakingly accurate retellings that nearly broke me. I felt incredibly helpless and overwhelmed–two emotions I feel a lot of these days. I find myself leaning on the hard fought muscles I built then to stay actionable, stay engaged, and to be changed by what’s going on. The headlines and tweets continue. I read and listen as much as I can.

Regularly, I think about how I want to do more to bring LGBTQ+ folks into the WordPress world through future editions of the Empowerment Grant or something similar while wondering what it is that I want to bring them into. Not now but in the future. I remain dedicated to our users and I remain dedicated to keeping the flame lit for future underrepresented contributors to find their way. This has not been a mindless or spineless decision and I hope to be here in the years to come working on the open web. This is a before and after moment, a chasm to cross, an awakening, a call for change. I’ve faced many of these in my life and this one feels no different: destabilizing, difficult, exhausting, and alive with possibility.

It’s also a time in my mind to step up, step out of my comfort zone, ask the hard questions, and do the hard work. We don’t know what’s on the other side and I don’t need to know the exact path to try to walk along it, though I deeply respect those who have chosen differently. Again and again, I return to this quote I read years ago in a book I can’t find (sent it to someone in an email where I just dug this up): “In any given moment, do I choose to strengthen the delusion of separation or the truth of connection?” That’s my heartbeat. I say I’m an optimist for a reason.

This year has shaken the core of who I am, made me numb more than usual, and has grounded me in the every day of living–grocery store trips to buy the same things, morning coffee shop hangs at Victrola, small walks around Volunteer park, easy home cooked meals, a long call from an old friend, a very warm bath, an excited “hello” from a dog I don’t know, caring for another and being cared for. I am exhausted and slowly coming back to myself and redefining what that even means. Who am I when I cannot move through the world in the ways that I want to? Who am I when my coping mechanisms fade? Who do I choose to be when things get hard? I didn’t always choose well.

This year wasn’t all bad. No one and nothing ever is. I had beautiful moments roadtripping with my girlfriend, adventuring in WNC with dear friends, creating lovely memories in Seattle with visiting pals, meeting my girlfriend’s parents, exploring Belgrade where my great grandfather was from on a meaningful work trip, and camping in Montana on a beautiful fall night. I got to witness one of my best friends finally meet my birthmom and got to spend real time with my sister, learning about an entire side of myself I don’t know. I learned that like me she breaks out into hives when stressed. Genetics can’t be denied. I watched as my girlfriend and one of my best friends nearly moved in tandem at the same pace before we left for an adventure, noticing how their calmer and more grounding energies is likely what drew me to them both. I started a virtual “Chronic Comrades” call bringing together loved ones navigating chronic health issues and I just set up a first meeting for a virtual grief book club with the ChatGPT inspired “Cry hard, Read harder” name. I watched my best friend compete on national television with his loved ones next to me until the sun began to rise. I biked new routes around Seattle with a coworker turned dear friend, feeling my body start to heal and sometimes pushing it too hard.

And finally, I connected with not just one person but a handful of people born through traditional surrogacy, after what feels like a lifetime of looking. For the rest of my life, I will never be alone again in that struggle to understand and come to grips with who I am and how I was born. This partially came out of the magic of WordPress with a person born through surrogacy contacting me on my WordPress powered site for surrogate kids after I reached out to a WordPress powered anti-surrogacy site. I haven’t written much about this publicly as it’s too sensitive to hold for long out in the open, similar to my brother’s death and the drama swirling in the WordPress community. It’s precious, evolving, complex, and hard. Another before and after moment. 2024 will forever be the year I found the others.

I am left feeling deeply internal and introverted, like many things are forming beneath the surface to pay attention to within. I’m drawn more to listening, observing, asking. I’m reading far more than I’m writing and I aim to listen far more than talk. I don’t pretend to know or to have all of the answers–only to be willing to engage with the questions.

In 2025, I’ll have my second sabbatical and the word “renew” rumbles around in my head. Rest is a necessary thing but it’s not enough. I can easily rest myself into a depression. I learned this the hard way and have come to revere the things that renew me. Heading into 2025, that’s my aim: renew my engagement to life, renew the weary parts of my soul, renew my commitment to my loved ones, renew my body, and offer spaces for renewal for other. As with last year’s post, my guiding values remain:

• be more present.
• move slower/be more careful (with my words, driving, slowing down in general).
• be more intentional (make time for the things I care about).
• be more curious (read more, less screen time, listening).
• be — less justifying, less defensive, stay firm. 
• be a community builder (have people over, volunteer, connect folks).
• be with life as it is and be shaped by it (added on March 6th, 2024).
• be bold – have more “absurdly alive” moments (added today, Dec 31st, 2024).

This last one was the challenge this year. To be with life as it is. To be with my body as it is. To be in a community swirling with hurt from so many sides. To be with my grief and not look away. For now though, I’m going to spend today sharing my gratitude with those who have made an extremely hard year easier, better, and more livable. I promise to pay it forward.