Networking Makes Me Cry
One of my favorite parts of this work, aka saymore, is meeting women I might not have crossed paths with otherwise. I was halfway through writing this July post on queer representation, but I scrapped it last minute. One conversation this week kept bouncing around these walls and I wanted to talk about it.
I’ve met a lot of people in my life so far, moving across the country a couple times, changing jobs a couple more times. I used to think ‘networking’ was just part of the deal and what a bummer that was. Shake hands, send the email, smile, repeat. But now, it feels different. Now I get to meet people who lead with something else. People who lead with a little more heart. Who weren’t immediately welcomed. Who kept going anyway. Those were the people I wanted to hear from the most and more often than not, they really do move me to tears (in the best way).
Being a queer woman building something in the mental health space, I knew I was not the majority. I still wanted to find my people - professionally speaking. And oh wow, did I find them. But not without casting a wide net, sitting through conversations that left me drained, navigating feedback I didn’t ask for. In the beginning you have to take every call, every introduction. Now I know better. I don’t need to meet everyone. I take referrals more seriously. I’m protective of my time. And more and more I make it a priority to spend my time with the right people.
So the other day, I met another one of those “right people.” She told me she’d read the “about me” on our saymore site - something I always forget lives online. She even quoted a line from it back to me and I felt my heart catch. Hearing this woman who lives on the other side of the world identifying with my depression, I just felt so moved.
But I also felt so sad. I always tell people I hope they can’t relate to the parts of me that write about depression. I wouldn’t wish that kind of knowing on people, though I know they are out there. The irony is not lost on me that I am building a space for connection and I hope no one connects with me and my depression. But she knew this kind of depression well. So we talked. We laughed. We shared stories. She told me she wrote a book of poetry, something I’ve always wanted to do too. She said her mom told her it was full of pain. She said it was full of truth. Before we hung up, she said something I’m still turning over in my mind. She said that even with all the pain of the pages before, she ended the book with this: she is every one of her favorite songs. Every sunset stacked on top of another. She is what she loves and what she hates. Like she’s collecting all these versions of herself, and they all get to live together.
I ordered her book. I wanted to hear the rest.
So I’ve been thinking about myself, too. About not having to be just one thing. Just last week, I got a friend's old record player and I’ve been running around town collecting Mac Miller vinyls. I propagate my own plants now and I know what that word means! I organized a scavenger hunt for some friends and fed them rice krispy treats after like they were five year olds. You change. You keep changing. And the hard things don’t disappear, but they don’t define the whole picture either.
Sometimes I think people hear the word mental health and it comes with a big sigh. But as much as my depression lives with me, it is smaller some days. That goes with anything. We’re all a lot of things. Not just strong because we have to be. Not just tired because the world is exhausting. We’re also funny, silly. Loud, quiet. Smart and kinda dumb… that’s great! That is allowed! I want to be all the things!
In a binary world that only lets you be one or the other, I want it all. And I hope this gives you a little bit of permission today to be whoever the hell fits right this minute.