Talk To Me

Whatever piqued your interest, I'm glad you're here.

It's late March 2020. I'm hard at work on my latest book when we go into lockdown here in Silicon Valley. My eighteen and twenty-year olds are suddenly back at home and I often misread what they need. My eighty-one-year-old mother marches off to the grocery store to "see more people" so I begin a daily coffee hour with her. As I watch an instructional video about how to safely sanitize groceries I simultaneously watch my speaking gigs postpone and often outright cancel. These gigs are our main source of income.

I have to keep my shit together. I need a task that I can do right, so for the first time in my life I obsess over cleaning my house. My daily routine entails wiping down countertops, cabinet knobs and latches, drawer and cabinet pulls, light switches, bathroom and kitchen fixtures, doorknobs, and the stairway banister. I note my progress on tiny checklists that I've taped on the walls, as if I am running a public bathroom. Cleaned. Initials. Date. Like someone else is keeping tabs on what I'm up to. I almost wish somebody would. I don't want to have to figure things out; I want someone to tell me that what I am doing is right and good.

I know that other folks must be scared and bewildered and looking for information and validation, too. So, with my faith in humans at an all time high (a faith that would plummet over and over again in the months and year to come), and being new to Zoom, I say What the hell and create a link to what I call "Open Office Hours." I describe it as a space where people can come and share what they're going through. To share and listen, connect and support. I post the link on three social media platforms. I wait to see what will happen. I hope.

People show up from all over the U.S., and one each comes from Canada and England. They talk about how work or school is going or not going. How hard it is to communicate with their grown kids or how hard it is to get their parents to understand what they as a young person are going through. How lonely they are. Fears about a vulnerable family member and about a school-age kid falling behind. Strategies for coping with the isolation and ideas for interesting hobbies. Their voices break. Somebody joins between her shifts as a nurse practitioner.

People listen. They nod their heads for each other or clap or snap or do jazz hands or speak up in agreement or with reassurance. Sometimes a person offers great advice or information. Sometimes what was just said leaves us all wide eyed and Oh. Work and home and school and family and love and fear and shit co-mingle in the very air we are working so hard to protect ourselves from. Just by showing up each person tells every other: You matter. You are not alone. I am here, too.

I hold these office hours seven maybe eight times. Each is scheduled for an hour but we always go long, and when I finally feel the need to end it to get back to the damn book I'm trying to write for young adults on adulting some folks don't want to leave. A few become repeaters. As much as I tell myself that I am doing these office hours to be of use to other humans, if I'm honest I need this space for me, too.

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Over the years, I've learned that it's important to try to be brave enough to open up to others about what we're going through or what we've been through. When we do, we get stronger within ourselves and we deepen our connections to others. And from that place of connection we feel not just less lonely, ashamed and afraid: we also find belonging. So, that's what I'm about. Helping all of us find belonging: To ourselves. To others. To the places and spaces that matter to us. To work. To relationships. To our damn life. Our lives are wild and precious, as the late poet Mary Oliver put it. But our lives can also be ugly, and sometimes it's an outright shit show. And I want you to know that I'm here for all of it.

So, welcome to Julie's Pod, a concept that takes my pandemic invention of "Open Office Hours" forward. As the mood strikes, I’ll comment on what I see happening in the world, or I’ll open up about something in my personal life, or I'll offer a prompt that gets you thinking about what's going on for you. But, this isn't just me yammering on – it's a community, and if you're here you're a part of it. So, equally important is that you show up, comment, and share about what comes up for you in response to my posts. Periodically I'll also do live events in the form of written Q&As on Facebook and live Zooms there too, so you can AMA and get support from me and from the others who show up, and be a source of encouragement for others, too. And for those of you who might yearn to share but are not comfortable sharing publicly, I've created a special voicemail line: 1-877-HI-JULIE where you can tell me what's on your mind and I'll aggregate and share the topics raised in those voicemails without ever revealing your name.

As for why I call this online community "Julie’s Pod," it's because I work in a tiny wooden pod in my backyard just ten steps from my kitchen door and it's where I'm sitting as I write to you right now. I hang a tiny sign in the kitchen so that my fam knows where I am. I've written entire books in here, been on hundreds of podcasts from here, it's where I held my pandemic office hours, and it's where I occasionally binge watch something when I'm done with work but I just need to be by myself a little while longer. Here's a peek:

*The words on my Pod are by the artist Jasmine Kay Uy

I also call this online community "Julie's Pod" because the term “pod” took on a new meaning in the pandemic as a descriptor for the people with whom we created safety and mutual support. Like all those people who came to my office hours! Then and now, the vibe is vulnerability, camaraderie, and support. I want you to feel safe here. And I want to feel safe with you, too. And I want no one to act like an asshole.

Just beyond my real life pod is a fire pit surrounded by comfortable chairs. When folks visit, I like to ask enormous existential and personal questions like, “Who are you becoming? Not in terms of salary or title or whatever but what are you working on within yourself, right now?” Sometimes I get handwritten thank-you notes in response because shit.got.real. And boy does it feel good when it does.

So, come back to “Julie’s Pod” for frank talk and tenderness about the shit that is happening in this American moment. Come for care and compassion around the human condition. Come to share and to be supported and to be seen. Come for the thoughts of a liberal progressive Black biracial queer bisexual cis-gendered butch woman who is in a three decades-long relationship with an amazing human who is a white bisexual cis-gendered male. (Yes, I am interested in the identities we carry. It’s not ‘identity politics;’ it’s knowing that who we are influences our lived experiences.)

Bottom line, in Julie’s Pod you can feel seen, supported, and respected on your journey. And by being here, you’ll help others on their journey, too. If you’re ready to open up, go deep, connect, and grow, then let’s get started. Subscribe!

For more on me, check out my website and find me on social @jlythcotthaims

For a recent podcast interview I did aimed at women 40+ on how to live your best life check out this link.

For a free webinar to support school leaders in developing greater SEL skills with which to weather our current moment (being held September 15, 5pm PDT), register here.

Disclaimer: I am not a physician, psychologist, or counselor, nor am I licensed to offer therapy or medical advice of any kind. What you get from me is a fellow human with a lot of thoughts and opinions based solely on my lived experience. Please call 911 or the National Suicide Prevention Line (800-273-8255) if you are in crisis.

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