Kate’s Five Things #19

Hello from seat 10F.

Nov 02, 2023

I’m writing you from the cramped comforts of seat 10F while headed to JFK, precisely a week before this will reach your inbox. By the time you read, I’ll have stepped through the veil of my forties while secluded in the French Alps in a little mountain town called Megève. When Joe asked how I wanted to usher in this new era, I pictured myself in isolation, surrounded by a landscape that can’t help but snap the perspective of my smallness into place. Mountains, I thought.

For someone who spends so much time in her head, this sense of smallness immediately pales the larger-than-life problems I rehearse. This leap into my “second act” has been driven by an unwavering calling to divorce myself from a life of rumination and brooding. I’ve had enough of playing out the worst-case scenario in my head. It’s getting in the way of life, of what I want, of all I want to experience in the next twenty years.

A recurring memory has come up a lot lately.

I’m sixteen and am on stage for an Irish dancing competition. I’ve qualified to compete at the World Championships and expectations are high. Earlier in the day, I ran into the girl I was dancing with, an error that put me in last place. I’ve all but let go of my hopes to place where people expect me to, and when it comes time to dance in my second round, I step on stage with a completely different feeling in my body.

Usually before stepping on stage, I would be clutching my stomach on the verge of puking. But this time, with zero to lose, I feel calm and full of pure joy.

After I went on to win that round outright, I remember stepping off stage to quizzical looks from my dance instructors. They wanted to know why I didn’t dance like that all the time.

It is a question that has followed me for decades. The answer is that at the time, I didn’t know how to harness that feeling. I didn’t know what had happened to me. If I could have tapped into it on a whim, of course I would have done it again.

Twenty years later, I look at the work I’ve put into Wit & Delight. After pausing to see what could come of a “second act” in my career, I find myself grappling with the same feeling I felt all those years ago, presented with the opportunity to step on stage and do what I do best as though the outcome doesn’t matter.

At forty, I know what it takes to harness that effortless feeling. I know what I have to give up to access it. To fully trust in myself, my talents, my work, and my voice, I have to officially let go of being at odds with myself.

I look forward to screaming into the Alps this week, logging off social media, and letting go of what binds me tightly to my performances in life.

I can’t wait to see you all again when I return!

Last Week’s House Call

In last week’s newsletter, “The Feeling of Lack and How It Keeps Us From Enjoying Our Homes,” I wrote some thoughts on lack mentality and how it sneaks into our home lives, robbing us of joy and keeping gratitude just out of reach. We all underestimate the role gratitude plays in feeling content and at peace with our lives as they are, which is essential in staying out of the comparison trap.

Here’s an excerpt from the post:

“The home has long been a goalpost we use to ‘measure up’ how we’re doing compared to others. To be clear, I don’t want to oversimplify how difficult it can be to shift how we look at what we have. It requires moving through the cringe. But I know this: I had a beautiful place to call my own, and all I could see was what was wrong with it. The cognitive dissonance between reality and what I believed to be true was so disconnected that once I saw the delusion, the spell of lack became broken.
It gives way to this kind of thinking:
Maybe you hate your kitchen but you marvel at the incredible morning light.
Maybe you lack storage space but are obsessed with the unique historical woodwork.
Maybe you need to gut all your bathrooms but that vintage tile color is gorgeous.
When I realized how my mindset toward my home had shifted, I wondered how I could apply these thoughts to the more pervasive realities of homeownership: time, money, skill, etc. While the answers are not necessarily simple, one thing I do know is that regaining the joy I initially felt for my home wouldn’t come through redesigning or adding more things. It’s much less about what my home looks like and much more about the lens through which I view it.”

If you like topics like this one, please consider upgrading to a House Call paid membership! Sometimes I share bonus content like a peek at my interior design projects. It’s how I’m able to do more of this (writing and creating) and less sponsored content. Thank you to everyone who has become a paid supporter of my work.

How I'm feeling this week…

Pretty introverted. The idea of sitting on a plane and speaking to no one for seven hours is my idea of heaven right now.

What's in my cart…

I’m re-upping my favorite moisturizing sheet masks and lip balm. Dry season is here.

What I'm consuming…

I made a delicious orecchiette, sausage, and kale soup this week. It was something I created without a recipe so here’s one that is similar.

What resonated with me…

Ever wonder why it is so hard to finish a notebook? I enjoyed this piece from Vox. An excerpt:

“In On Writing, novelist Stephen King advises: ‘You can approach the act of writing with nervousness, excitement, hopefulness, or even despair — the sense that you can never completely put on the page what’s in your mind and heart. You can come to the act with your fists clenched and your eyes narrowed, ready to kick ass and take down names. ...Come to it any way but lightly. Let me say it again: you must not come lightly to the blank page.’ That’s a lot of pressure.”

A question I've been asking myself lately…

Is it a problem I need to solve or is it perfectionism? I was standing over the dishwasher wondering how to load it optimally, and I stopped and realized how many other things I could be doing or enjoying. It's in these micro-moments that I am slowly beginning to release things that only add stress to my day. It’s scary to do this because once you stop micromanaging all the little things in life you have time to tackle the big things (like that new business idea) and that takes guts. Sometimes, perfectionism is just my brain's way of stalling.