2020 has been a wild ride so far. But I think we’ve all heard and read enough about it. I just want to comment on one thing and that is…social distancing. Is that really a good term for what it is? As a UX writer, I must say, I do not think so. Social distancing is all about physical distance, isn’t it? So why don’t we call it personal spacing instead? I’m obviously kidding, but I know I’m not the only one that finds the term a tad bit off. If you could re-name the whole thing, what would you call it?
Jokes aside, welcome back to Nobody Cares But You, my newsletter on growing up and beyond. I haven’t sent this since December because frankly, I wasn’t happy with the format anymore. And as 2020 can already go to hell, I figured why not try something new. If you hate it, you hate it and it will just be one more nail in this year’s coffin. If you love it, everyone’s happy.
So from now on, this newsletter will stray a bit from its original format of sharing useful tips and advice and become a bit more experimental. Not to say you won’t find some valuable advice here occasionally, but damn, I’m so tired of people slapping on their guru-badges and blurting self-help tips out on Twitter, Linkedin and even Slack (mate, I am capable of working from home without your advice, thanks very much) that I want to distance myself from any of that as much as I can.
Let’s dive in, shall we?
Since you last read from me, a lot has happened. I joined Spotify (and love it). I traveled Mexico for a month (Tulum is my spirit place). I started teaching my very-own Content Marketing course at Berghs. My book sales tanked (thanks, COVID). And thanks to personal spacing, I’ve achieved a very even split between #work and Animal Crossing. Overall, not so bad.
In Mexico
In Mexico, I had started a travel journey. I had been re-reading Didion and Hemingway on the plane and it reminded me how great simple, observant prose is. Specifically, Didion’s short South and West got me. As soon as we landed, I made it a thing to carry my notepad around and take notes whenever I saw, felt, smelled, heard or experienced something even remotely interesting. During the evenings, I transcribed my handwritten notes to my laptop and over the weeks, some kind of narrative formed, quite organically.
It was an incredibly soothing habit, easy to do, and gave me a lot of instant gratification. There were moments when I transcribed something to my laptop and tweaked a sentence a tiny bit and it suddenly sounded epic. I felt so proud. I’d read my ramblings to George and he’d nod and that was it, all the assurance I needed that day. Nothing else really mattered. Not the sunburn or that I broke my laptop charger in the middle of the jungle. Not that I was eating way too much fish and had to carry a bottle of Pepto Bismol everywhere I went, its shiny pink color signaling to everyone exactly what was going on inside my guts.
I vowed to myself to continue journaling and check my notebooks from previous trips and transcribe those as well when I got home. Of course, I didn’t. I listed all the things I did instead above already. Hell, I even started a podcast (on Content strategy, if you’re interested) because as soon as I got back, I got trapped in thinking I need to create value again. 24/7. Measurable output. Ideally, something I could market or turn into cash eventually. Do something useful. Be productive, even if the world is burning. I quickly forgot how I had felt in Mexico. How the simplest of things, the skill I enjoy the most, made me happy.
Don’t get me wrong, I like being productive and providing value both for free and to employers and clients. But I’d be damned if I wouldn’t admit that what I feel when I write something I personally care about can’t be topped. Some of the stuff I write (poems, stories, bits of pieces, paragraphs) are as dear to me as popping out a newborn. is to others. Yes, I’m exaggerating but you get the point.
The only advice I have to give
The only advice I have this time is exactly that. Things are rough. The economy tanked and it might get much worse. It’s easy to feel like we need to be more productive than ever. We need to fight hard to keep our jobs, feed our families, make a name for ourselves so we can stand out if something worse happens. But the truth is, we don’t know when this will be over. We don’t know how the world will look after this. It could take much longer or change things permanently or both. For all I know, the world might even look better after this. We just don’t know.
But the one thing we need to make it through any of that is trust in ourselves, inner peace, something to hold on to that is independent of anything and anyone else. If we find that sweet spot, that thing or task or outlet that gives us just the right dose of self-love, makes us appreciate ourselves a little bit more, it’s worth fighting for it. Fighting for it…making time for it, giving us space to explore it. Please do that.
Please be patient with yourselves and everyone else.
Thanks for reading.
Stay sane and stay safe,
Nicole Michaelis
Love the new direction you've taken the newsletter in. I just finished reading South and West a week or so ago and had the same reaction to it as you did. She has an incredible eye for people and places. I want to learn how to observe in the way she does. It also made me pick up a notebook and tuck it into my bag - for when I'm no longer personal spacing, of course.