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Check out my work there: https://tanyaebylife.substack.com

Know Your Worth

This summer, I finished my memoir on starting over again in my forties. It’s raw, brutal, and ultimately hopeful. It’s the piece that helped me land an agent and now it’s on submission with editors for publication. Or it will be soon. My agent gave me a call and we chatted about possibilities. At the end of the call, she said, “Tanya, one more thing. You’ve got to stop apologizing. You apologize more than anyone I’ve ever worked with.”

I laughed and said, “Well, from the little I know of publishing from audiobooks, I know how incredibly busy you are. I just want to honor that.”

“Sure,” she replied. “But this is my job. Know your worth. I’m working for you.”

The phrase “Know Your Worth” stuck with me and I’ve been thinking about it ever since.

I’ve spent a good deal of my life apologizing. I think it’s my Midwesterness showing, yes, but it’s more than that. I want to be kind. I want to be gentle. I want to honor the work and effort others do. But I never really realized that in endlessly apologizing, it has an effect. It makes me smaller. It makes me less-than. It makes me seem like I’m not confident in my work, in my life, in who I am. 

I am confident, actually. This memoir is the best thing I’ve ever written. Beyond being the best thing I’ve written, it’s special. It’s told mostly through dialogue and the conversations are real and brutal. I have a knack for remembering conversations and I was able to organize the scenes in a way that the reader experiences a journey of self along with me. I’m proud of this piece. I’m proud of what I’ve been able to create.

I don’t think I’m the only one who apologizes. I think women tend to do so more than men, especially in business.

I remember once my ex was sending a work email and it was so short and succinct. There were no exclamation points, he didn’t ask about how the person he was writing to was doing, he didn’t wish them a happy weekend. He just said what he needed in a single line and sent the email. I was stunned. “You sent that?”

“Uh, yeah,” he said. 

It had never occurred to me that you could write an email that wasn’t cushioned on all sides. Wouldn’t the reader think he was a jerk? Wouldn’t he seem rude? Or would it just seem like a confident work email coming from someone who knew what he needed to do?

I was talking to a narrator friend of mine and she said that sometimes how we talk shows our childhood roots. It made me think of my own upbringing. How I needed to be quiet to avoid danger, how accomplishing things gave me affirmation (which feels like love) I didn’t get in my family. The idea that my tentativeness could be old patterns showing up, is mind blowing.

What would change in my life if instead of apologizing for taking up space, what if I expanded? What if I stopped cushioning and softening and simply stated what I wanted and needed?

I’m trying it out. 

It’s curious, the effect it’s having on me. 

By removing the apology of bothering people, I am starting to step into my worth. I have things to offer: creatively, professionally, and personally. I know this. This is true. 

This memoir I’ve written is beautiful and it deserves an audience. It deserves to be read and shared and discussed. And as one of my beta readers said, it’s the specificity of the piece that makes it universal. It’s a really cool book. 

My narration work is strong and there’s no shame in stating that. I’m not taking anything away from others by saying I’m good at my job. I am good at it. They can be good at it too. 

I shouldn’t have to apologize for being who I am. It doesn’t soothe whoever I’m apologizing to; it just makes me shrink.

So. Okay. Another thing I’ve learned. Know my worth, and embrace it.

I’m grateful to my agent who believes in me and my work. I’m grateful she is out there telling publishers that my work is worth reading. 

I owe it to myself to have that same confidence.

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TANYA EBY is a narrator and writer in Grand Rapids, Michigan.If you like her work, please share it and/or leave a comment. Follow Tanya on Twitter @Blunder_Woman.

On Setting Boundaries And Being A B****

I told my boyfriend Tim I wanted to blog, but I wasn’t sure what about. It’s not that I don’t have ideas, I do, it’s just that I’m struggling on settling on which topic to write about.

He said, “Why don’t you blog about all the stupid stuff women let men do?”

And this made me laugh. Both that he’d acknowledge that men do, indeed, do some stupid shit, and also the idea that women allow them to do stupid shit. (Please note, yes, women do stupid shit too. Not just men.)

A few of my friends, like me, are single again in their late forties and dating. Tim and I have been following their dating experiences. When my girlfriends tell stories about horrible experiences they’re having, I say “Yep” and nod. When my boyfriend hears about these experiences, he is shocked and says “WHAT?”

It’s stuff like changing plans last minute and making up lies about it. Treating women like they’re one option of many, instead of investing in that growing relationship. It’s lack of communication, or super vague communication. It’s the awareness that people who are dating don’t always tell the truth, and they aren’t always single, and they might text and text and text but have no intention of actually meeting you.

My boyfriend knows some of the dating experiences I’ve had and how deeply it scared me. He’s very understanding about it and reassures me and is steady and solid in our relationship. But he’s also surprised when he hears that not all men are steady and solid.

One of my girlfriends was supposed to meet a man a few times but he cancelled twice last minute and pinning him down to reschedule was difficult. There were good reasons: snowstorm, icy roads, a work accident, back pain, etc. But there’s was something off about his excuses. My girlfriend was supportive and understanding. My boyfriend was like “The dude is lying! Why doesn’t she kick him to the curb?”

And then I had to explain.

The guy’s excuses were just believable enough, that it put my friend in an awkward position. If she wasn’t supportive and understanding, then she’d be a bitch. When someone has an accident at work and injures their arm, how can you expect them to go out for a pasta dinner? And what if it just happens to be true? If it was true, would she be walking away from something with potential simply because she wasn’t understanding enough? Also, when you’ve been mistreated or lied to or manipulated, you start to accept that this is just how men are. You don’t expect better. You don’t think it’s possible. You count on them letting you down, and when they do, it’s just familiar.

I tried to explain to my boyfriend that there’s a whole lot of conditioning that has happened over a woman’s life. Men are valued above women, and this gets even more complicated with age. Men are valued above women, and men value younger women above women their own age or older. So men are given a wide range in behavior we accept. We feel we have to accept it. Women are supposed to be caring, understanding, supportive, and so even when faced with something that may or may not be true, we are expected to err on the side of kindness. So we are kind. We believe. We support. We understand. And sometimes, it ends up hurting us.

My boyfriend’s response was interesting, that she should just kick the dude to the curb, and it made me think a lot about boundaries. What if women didn’t allow bad behavior? What if we called others on it? What if when it felt like someone was lying to us, instead of interpreting or justifying or being supportive, what if we said, “This just doesn’t feel true to me. I’m sorry you’re going through all this stuff, but it sounds like the timing isn’t good for us.” What if we were confident enough to walk away?

In dating Tim, I made a conscious choice that I was going to enter the relationship open- hearted, honest, and real. I decided if there were things I didn’t like, I was fully prepared to walk away. I was prepared to say, “This doesn’t work for me” and let the relationship end if I wasn’t treated well. In fact, early on in our dating, he was struggling to commit to meeting me and I decided to walk away. “This doesn’t work for me. I don’t want a pen pal. If you don’t want to meet in real life, I get it, but I’m not going to continue chatting with you.”

We met three days later.

I think in relationships, we as women need to remind ourselves that setting boundaries isn’t being bitchy. It’s being healthy. Trusting your gut, asking for clarification, challenging things that feel untruthful, they’re important steps in protecting yourself but also advocating for yourself. I’ve been working on setting boundaries, in sitting in the discomfort of telling someone “No” when they want me to do something that I don’t want to do, or telling someone that their behavior doesn’t work for me.

I don’t have to do things that aren’t good for me, and I don’t have to give complicated explanations on why I don’t want to do something. If it doesn’t feel good, if it’s too overwhelming, if it would stress me financially or physically, if I just don’t want to do it, I have the power to set a boundary and say No.

I’m applying this not just to dating, but in my family relationships, in issues with my kids, in co-parenting struggles with my kids’ dad. There are times when I need to say “No” or “This doesn’t work for me.”

More than having the power to say No, I have a duty to say No. It honors myself, but it also lets the other person know how I want to be treated.

I don’t know. I’m no dating or life expert. I’ve had terrible experiences, and I’m so grateful to have finally found someone who is a true partner. Now that I’m in a committed and satisfying relationship, the further I get from dating, the more I realize that in my panic to not be alone when I was dating previously, I sacrificed some of my integrity. And that makes me sad.

Setting boundaries has been one of the hardest lessons I’ve ever learned or put into practice, but also one of the most important.

I don’t know that women allow men to behave badly. We don’t have control over what other people choose to do. But we do have control over what we allow in our lives. And I’m hoping my friends will settle into their awesomeness and know they deserve a partner who is honest, kind, committed, and vulnerable.

For me, it started with a thought: “If something doesn’t feel right, it means it’s not right.” That helped me realize that I didn’t need to know anything for sure. I just needed to know it didn’t feel good to me, and that was enough.

Maybe another thought is, “Well, if this makes me seem like a bitch, I’m okay with that, because at least I’ll be a happy bitch.” I’m good with being a happy bitch. I actually quite like it.

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ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Tanya Eby is a narrator and writer in Grand Rapids, Michigan. If you like her work, please let her know by posting a comment and/or share it on social media.

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To The Loves I’ve Had At Trader Joe’s And Their Mysterious Disappearances

Years ago, Trader Joe’s had a little frozen meal called a Bento Box. It had tiny dumplings and squash cut in a little square.  I was a white girl raised on casseroles with cream of mushroom soup, and when I saw that Bento Box in the freezer section, my world expanded. It was so new to me. So exciting! Squash! Cut into a square! Tiny dumplings! Oh, the wonder of the world!

I stocked up on frozen Bento Boxes. I piled them up in a tower, holding them close to my chest. I was loyal for months, and then they disappeared, from my freezer, yes, but from Trader Joe’s freezer too. Without a word. They were just gone. I hated Trader Joe’s for that, but I also understood. I was too mundane for the Bento Box. The Bento Box had better places to be. Maybe Detroit.

I looked for the Bento Boxes every now and then. Of course, I did. But they never came back. And then one day, again in the freezer section, was a small little box. It was a deep pink, the color of my love wanting to bloom. This was a Bibimbap Bowl. I didn’t know what Bibimbap was, but there was rice and spinach and egg and a spicy sauce and thin beef and, oh, how I wanted it. I took it home. Just one pink box. Just to taste. And that Bibimbap Bowl made me forget about the Bento Box.

Bibimbap was everything I was searching for. I could eat it for breakfast, for lunch, for dinner, for a post-drinking snack at two in the morning after getting home from the bar when I smelled of cigarette smoke and despair. Bibimbap was there. Waiting for me. A constant, loving stability.

We had a good thing together.

And then one day, Trader Joe’s ran out of Bibimbap Bowls and my breath stopped. Surely, it’d come back. Bibimbap wouldn’t be like the Bento Box! Surely, it would return. And it did! For a week or so. And then the Bibimbap Bowls were gone again, and forever.

It was something about me, I knew. Some flaw I had that made these frozen delicacies from Trader Joe’s abandon me. I just wasn’t interesting enough. I didn’t light Trader Joe’s up. My microwave was not worthy.

Fuck you, Trader Joe’s. Fuck. You.

I avoided the freezer section after that. It was too hard, to form a deep connection and then have them just leave me. I was too tender-hearted for the frozen cruelty of that.

So, I started eating salads. Spinach and pepitas with a ginger carrot dressing. Spinach with blue cheese and cranberries. Spinach with hope and belief that commitment was possible. I thought the lentil cauliflower salad with the French dressing would be safe. It was vegetarian, how could it hurt me? But eventually, that salad left me too. It didn’t even leave me a text. It just ghosted me.

I am older now. And wiser. My palate has expanded over the years. My microwave mostly heats up leftovers now, for the kids. I don’t go for the frozen meals, and I’ve moved on from canned cream of mushroom soup. I don’t put all my hopes and dreams in the freezer section. I know better. I’ve lived a life, man, and I know you just can’t count on Trader Joe’s to fill your soul for an eternity. You just get little moments from Trader Joe’s.

Maybe that’s enough. Maybe it’s all we can hope for.

Still, I sometimes wander through the freezer section, and I eye those dumplings and wontons, the breakfast quiche, the shakshuka that sounds so good that sometimes I whisper it quietly to myself: shakshuka.

What I feel then is a sense of longing, but also, a sense of gratitude. For what I had. For the potential that was ultimately lost.

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ABOUT THE WRITER

TANYA EBY is a narrator and a writer in Grand Rapids, Michigan. She thinks she’s funny.

Quit Your Whining

I’m currently sitting in the lobby of my hotel in California. It’s 5:30 AM here, but my body and mind is still on East Coast time. I’m a morning person even by east coast standards, so that means I’ve been up since 2 AM. No worries though. There’s finally coffee in the lobby so I am now relaxed and a lovely person (which is different from the monster I was just a few minutes ago).

I woke up with a clear thought this morning. This happens sometimes. I think it happens when I just let my brain work while I’m sleeping and when I first wake up, I’m finally quiet enough to listen. My thought was this, “Quit your whining, and get to work.”

This is a picture of my inner voice. Yes. My inner voice is a dog wearing a cute hat and headphones. It makes my inner voice’s truths more palatable.

Ha! Nothing like your inner voice being a hard ass, but that voice is right. I have been whining a lot lately.

Mostly I’ve been whining a lot about work and writing. What’s my future with narration? Will I keep getting gigs? Is my memoir going to get picked up by a publisher? Why isn’t this thriller I’m working on working? The questions aren’t unusual for me. My brain is constantly questioning, but I’ve had a pissy attitude lately and that is new for me.

I blame the weather. We’ve had a lot of grey days in Michigan, a lot of rain and the kind of wet cold that just seeps into your bones, into your spirit. It’s just been too wet and cold to walk, and I’m noticing the lack of that routine. My friend and I usually walk a few times a week for over an hour and those walks do tremendous things for my spirit.

And, also, those walks do tremendous things for my waistline.

Before packing for my little weekend trip to California, I noticed that my clothes were a little snug, my face a little puffier. I’ve been more on edge. Grumpier. And, oh, the whining!

But after two days in California, a few long walks with my hunky lumberjack, and some sunshine and drinks, and suddenly it’s all clear to me: I’ve been whining a whole lot and I need to knock it off.

Sometimes, talking about issues is helpful, but there comes a point when you cross over from talking and you wade waist deep into wallowing. And it’s the wallowing I need to stop.

I have so much to be grateful for. I think, though, it might be easier for me to be miserable than it is to be happy. I know how to Misery. I don’t know how to Happy. At least not long term. But I want to know. I really do. That means I need to learn.

So I’m sitting in this hotel lobby and I’m realizing that there are still things I need to work on. The first thing is to stop thinking so much and start doing. If I can’t walk outside, then I need to walk on my treadmill or join a class. If I don’t know what my work future is, then I need to start building a backup plan, and also make sure I’m competitive in my work. I need to make sure I’m giving my best to the job. I can whine all I want about this thriller not working, but it’s never going to work unless I make it work. So that means, I need to devote an hour a day to writing. Without fail. Because things don’t get written…unless you do the writing.

From my walk yesterday

That’s all. It’s simple when I sit back and think about it. I’ve just got to get doing and stop with the complaining.

I can’t be alone in this. Are there things that you’re pissy about, but maybe you could tackle if you just…well…started? Are there little changes you can make to get out of the winter funk? And if you have suggestions, I’d love to hear them. Surely, I can’t be the only one who’s annoying themselves by pouting all the time, right?

I woke up this morning with a new awareness. And then I wrote. I did the thing. It felt really good. And I’m going to go explore San Diego today and get some good walking in. Get my body moving. Tire out those muscles and trigger the waistline to pull back a little.

We’ll fly home tomorrow and I’m hoping a little of this go-get-em attitude comes with me. I think it will.

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ABOUT TANYA EBY

Tanya is a writer and narrator and lives in Grand Rapids, Michigan. She’s got two kids, two dogs, an awesome partner, good friends, and she’s an expert napper. The sun makes her squinty, but she’s learning to accept that. Follow her on Instagram at tanya_eby and on Twitter @Blunder_Woman.

Who Do You Want To Be?

I’ve been doing this little experiment with myself the last couple of years. It started kinda innocently. I’d been watching TikTok videos and seeing all these women with long hair and I’ve never had long hair. I’ve always wanted to wear one of those messy buns, even though I’ll probably look more like a Gibson Girl than someone modern who looks carefully mussed. Anyway. I was sitting there thinking “I’ve always wanted to be someone with long hair”, and then this quiet voice in me responded with “So, fucking grow your hair. Or get a wig. Be the person you want to be.”

And then I was a little embarrassed, because it was so easy, wasn’t it? If you want to be someone different, then be someone different. If you want to change…CHANGE.

So I started growing my hair. It’s past my shoulders now, and it’s pretty much messy all the time, but it’s become a sort of symbol to me on the possibility of change. I don’t look quite the way I thought and I won’t look like the super fit women on TikTok, but my hair IS different, and it makes me feel different, and different is what I wanted.

I’ve started applying this idea of change (and the ability to change) to all sorts of things. I’ve always wanted to be the kind of person who hikes, and so I started hiking. Now I’m a person who hikes. I wanted to be the kind of person who gardens, and my boyfriend and I bought seeds for a garden this year. A bigger garden than I’ve had before. A garden with tomatoes, and bok choy, and beans, and kale. I want to be the kind of person who picks a handful of veggies to put in her morning eggs, and I’m on my way to being that person.

I’m trying to apply this thought in other ways. I want to be a healthy person, so I need/want to make some changes that make me healthier. Walking more. Eating less sweets. You know the drill.

I want to be a person who is published by a big publishing house, so I’m trying to do that. I can’t make them want to publish me, but I did write a memoir that I think is powerful and worth being published. I want to be the author of a mystery series with fun characters and a good plot, so I’m writing one.

I want to be someone who keeps growing in their art, so I’ve started working on my narration. Experimenting more. Taking risks. Reaching out to casting to see if I can get some books that challenge me a little bit more, so I can rise up to that challenge. I’m still getting a lot of “no’s”, but I want to be a person who doesn’t give up easily. So I’m going to keep trying.

I’m not saying that change is easy. Growing my hair is easy, but it takes forever. Changing my mindset is hard and takes daily practice. And there are some things in life that you just don’t have power over. You can’t wish away the passing of time or fix some health challenges or financial issues. And that’s okay. I guess what I’m realizing is I have control over much more of my life than I thought I did, and sometimes change starts with a simple thought.

Who do I want to be? I want to be the type of person who lives life fully and deeply, who keeps trying to grow, who tries new things, who loves and laughs and explores.

And I think that’s the person I’m turning out to be.

I wish I’d figured this out in my twenties, but that’s okay. I’m a person who knows it now.

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TANYA EBY is an award-winning narrator looking for challenging projects. Her memoir is with her agent and will be submitted to publishers soon. Tanya lives in Michigan.

AI Comes For Audiobooks

AI Comes For Audiobooks

By Tanya Eby

THERE CAN ONLY BE ONE

A couple of years ago, there was an article published on Publishers Weekly touting the shiny potential of AI generated audiobooks. This article sent shock WAVs (wink wink) through the audiobook industry. Narrators were so ‘shook’ that they quickly responded on social media IN ALL CAPS. This is equivalent to yelling, and audiobook narrators as a general rule, don’t yell (our voice is our instrument and our livelihood), so this was a big deal. 

  The article stated: “Wouldn’t it be great if publishers could get rid of ‘the talent’ and reduce the long production cycles, push a button, and, presto, an instant audiobook, ready for sale?” Followed by: “The value proposition for automated audiobook creation becomes a combination of cost and convenience, where convenience is a combination of both simplifying and vastly accelerating the production process.”

  Ah, ease of production! Lowering cost! Get rid of those pesky actors, directors, and engineers! 

  What the article didn’t acknowledge was the profound difference in AI text to speech vs. narrators. AI creates a product. Narrators (and the production team) create an experience. 

  So, narrators have a right to yell. The article was biased and written by someone who had a vested interest with possible financial gain in AI technology. 

Now, Apple has unleashed the AI Narrator through their AppleBooks platform, making it even easier and quicker and cheaper! for writers to turn their books into listenable experiences. (If you can ignore the herky jerky quality of a computer reading to you.) 

The truth I’m starting to face: AI is coming for audiobooks, and AI is ruthless. It feels like a Highlander situation where thousands of narrators using their well-researched Scottish accents are fighting against a behemoth of technology, and eventually, there will only be one. 

  Of course, I have a vested interest too in writing this article. I’m fighting for my job, my life, my kids’ security. I’m not alone in this. And this fight against AI isn’t limited to audiobooks. AI’s slick tendrils are reaching out everywhere: to bank tellers, truck drivers, servers, hotel staff, artists and more, as automation threatens to take over. Automation has always been a threat. Way back in the 1700s, on the banks of some English village, weavers were replaced by machines in order to make more material more efficiently. I’m not saying automation is inherently evil, but it is bad for workers. As technology adds, it also subtracts. The truth of it is AI is coming not just for audiobooks…AI is coming for you.

  Ahem. 

  Perhaps it is clear that I am sometimes dramatic and possibly have read, and enjoyed, many sci-fi novels. Sci-fi, though, can become history if we’re not careful.

LET’S NOT FILTER THIS

Audiobooks are booming and there’s a lot of money to be had in the industry. AI developers want you to believe that computer generated audiobooks will be cheaper, easier to produce, and faster. Maybe that’s even true, but, of course, it isn’t the whole truth. It’s the shiny spin. Audiobooks might be cheaper to produce, eventually, by cutting out all the human work that goes into creating an experience, but that’s not a savings that will be passed on to the consumer. The cost for audiobooks will remain the same. There are already audiobooks out there ‘read’ by computers, and there’s no cost difference. Audiobooks will be cheaper to produce, sold at the same rate, and hence the profit will be larger for the rights holder. 

So this really isn’t about the consumer. It’s about profit.

Can we maybe for once, not gloss over things? Can we not Instagram reality with filters and fancy lighting and just say what this is about? It’s about money. More money for the rights holder. Not less cost for the consumer. And while there may be in the near future more audiobooks produced with less cost to the rights holder, it doesn’t necessarily mean greater accessibility or better experiences for listeners. It just means more.

An argument that investors frequently make in producing audiobooks cheaper with AI technology is the issue of accessibility. Audiobooks are expensive, and there are many people who read audiobooks not just for pleasure but because auditory reading helps. (Yes. Listening to an audiobook is reading. The brain engages in story the same way when hearing the words as it does when seeing the words.) 

Elizabeth is a fan of audiobooks and she says, “My son has dyslexia. Audiobooks were essential in helping him learn to read. Text-to-speech just doesn't work when learning reading fluency and comprehension.” 

There’s something about listening to a human voice. Text-to-speech or AI can come close to mimicking the voice, but it can’t mimic the soul of what happens when one human talks to another. Books are more than just a collection of words. These words are connected to each other, over and over, to build an entire world created by an amazing author, and to be interpreted by the performer. In this collection of words and sentences and chapters, there is meaning, intention, desires, emotions, history, connection, and on and on. 

An audiobook narrator will also change their voice for different characters by using accents, altering the pitch or texture of their voice to denote age and personality differences, etc. And, like Lark references, there is fluency and comprehension that happens through spoken language. With AI, the words are all there and spoken in the proper order, but something’s just a little off. What’s off, is there’s no soul in the words, because AI doesn’t have breath to breathe into the piece.

Laura Martin enjoys audiobooks too and says, “They were very helpful in making it through the isolation of recent times. This probably speaks more to my pathetic social life, but listening to the narrators provides a semblance of human connection.”

We are so isolated for many reasons: politics, the pandemic, modern living. This loss of connection is showing. Sometimes I listen to audiobooks to be transported to another world but also because there‘s just something primally comforting about being read to. Additionally, many of the narrators are my friends, so I get to have them in my kitchen with me while I cook without worrying about masks and infection and all those scary things. Come on over, friends. While you battle orcs, I’ll battle making sure this chick pea curry has enough flavor. 

WHAT ABOUT ACCESSIBILITY? 

Accessibility is important. We need audiobooks. For so many reasons. But to say that accessibility is only possible with the use of AI is also a bit of a spin. There are things companies can do right now to make audiobooks more accessible, but are they doing them?

Charity Schaffer is a small business owner and read 100 audiobooks last year. She says: “The only audiobook advertising I see is for Audible but there are many other valuable sources, often free. Why is this? It’s a gap that could bridge so many worlds.”

Right now, companies could allow greater access to audiobooks through libraries. This already exists, but there could be more. There could be programs developed where people with learning struggles could access audiobooks for free. And there could be a push in educating the community about how to access these resources. Maybe some of these things already exist, but they’re hard to find. Why? Because, again, we’re talking about money. 

I’m not idealistic enough to believe that all books should be free. Audiobooks are part of the publishing umbrella and are goods that can be sold, and should be. There are real jobs and livelihoods connected to the production of audiobooks. Authors benefit from royalties which helps support them in their lives and encourages them to keep writing. 

To argue that AI is a better choice for audiobooks simply because of accessibility, isn’t the full story. Even though a computer can translate written text to spoken word, is it actually more accessible? Is it better? Is good enough, enough?

   A computer can read words to you but it can’t help you synthesize the material. It can’t break down a complicated line of text and pull out the meaning, add pauses, slow it down or emphasize important information. It can’t whisper a line and have you feel the intensity of the silence. It can’t put the slightest spin on a sentence so that you understand the line is said with contempt instead of praise.

Author Evelyn Jeannie Hall says: “For me, listening to audiobooks is a unique auditory experience. It’s performance art. I love reading as well, but I often remember books I’ve listened to—the intonations, the emotions it evoked—more than the written word. Only audiobooks make me gasp in response and I love that.”

  Have you ever been to an MFA reading or open mic night? Think of the poet who reads and is lost in the beauty of their language. It sure sounds pretty but what does all that stuff about starlight and heaving bodies mean? Then think of the poet who reads and focuses on the meaning of the poem. The beauty of the language shines through, but at the end of the poem, you feel something. The hairs on your arms rise. Your throat constricts. You get tingly. Something. Because the meaning, along with the musicality, sings to you. Computers don’t sing. Computers recite.

AI AUDIOBOOKS ARE NOT AUDIOBOOKS

Let’s call it what it is. AI audiobooks are NOT audiobooks. They’re text-to-speech programs. An audiobook is performed by an actor (or many actors) who interprets the words of an author to create an experience that is layered with meaning and nuance. So if AI is the narrator of a book, sell it as a text-to-speech book. If the book is performed by a human, then call it an audiobook. This way, consumers know what they’re getting. 

There is room in the industry for advancing technology and supporting the beauty and importance of human artistic expression. Think back to sitting in kindergarten, cross-legged, listening with wide eyes while a volunteer parent read to the class. Think of attending a performance of Shakespeare where the actors interpreted the language in a way where you suddenly realized that Shakespeare is funny and tragic and sometimes downright sexy. 

There are many types of listeners, with many types of reasons for loving audiobooks. Let’s give them a wide range of voices to choose from that fit the diverse stories we are lucky enough to experience. AI shouldn’t replace narrators, emerging as the victor for all eternity. In this fight about AI and narrators, narrators–and the teams of humans that create an audiobook experience–want to be valued. We want to keep working. We want to be heard. 

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TANYA EBY has had many roles in audiobooks: narrator, producer, publisher, and director. She recorded her 1,000th title in the spring of 2022. She is also a blogger, novelist, and writer of tiny love poems. Find her on IG  TWITTER and her website: tanyaeby.com

One Week Social Media Freeeee

I’ve been off social media for a week and I have to tell you…if you can’t take an actual vacation to somewhere warm with good food and sunsets, take a social media vacation, crank your heat, order some takeout, and watch a movie set in Italy. You’ll feel just as good.

The first two days were hard. I kept wanting to look at my feeds, but instead, I worked on updating my website (that’s been on my To Do List for two years), worked on my next book, read some magazines, and watched THE STRAIN. My phone has stopped constantly chirping with notifications and it’s amazing how more relaxed I am.

I’ve thought of an occasional tweet or something I wanted to say, and I’ve wondered what the world is up to. But for the most part, I’m enjoying this quiet space. It’s different taking a break from social media when you’re at home as opposed to when you’re on vacation. When you’re on vacation, you’re already in a new routine, so it’s easy to shake. But when you take a break while you’re at home, the space you filled with scrolling is now empty.

It's so lovely.

I’m learning, though, that I don’t think I need to go completely social media free. I don’t think I can with a new book coming out and marketing myself as a narrator. And I really do enjoy posting things and commenting on others’ posts. What I feel shifting, maybe, is my relationship to it. I don’t have to scroll constantly. I don’t have to post constantly. Maybe I can do it in a more manageable and targeted way.

I’ve got one more week of enjoying this self-imposed social media isolation. I’m going to continue to work on my writing and enjoy how quiet things are.

In a week, I’m hoping when I post and comment, I’ll do so a little more mindfully and choose the things that are really important.

At the very least, I’ve realized that even without the likes and the notifications and the hearts and the comments, I still exist. I’m still here. And my friends are still texting me and emailing me. Staying connected feels really good. Staying connected in a meaningful way feels even better. Fingers crossed I can keep feeding that.

Why Is Taking A Break From Social Media So Scary?

When I started a new elementary school in 4th grade, it was hard. I was scared and didn’t have any friends. Making friends was tough for me. I was a weird kid: kinda intense, didn’t play the way other kids did. I liked to read and create stories and wasn’t interested in much else. So on my way to school, I’d stop at Little Bo’s and use my lunch money to buy candy. I remember handing out candy to everyone, and because I’d spent my lunch money on that, I’d go without a lunch. While I was handing it out, I’d have kids all around me. I was popular. But when the candy was gone, my new friends were gone too. They never stayed, but they showed back up the next day when I had a new bag of candy.

I’ve been thinking about that a lot lately in terms of social media (but also in terms of relationships). I’ve spent a lot of time and energy trying to convince people to love me, oftentimes to the point where I wasn’t feeding myself. Social media for me at first, was a way to connect with family. I don’t have much family, so that never did much for me, but everything changed when it became evident that I needed to connect with the audiobook community if I had any hopes of getting hired outside Michigan. At the time I worked for one company, and they suddenly stopped hiring me (due to my participation in getting a union contract). So social media very quickly became a need, and it also became a fear.

I did make genuine connections through sharing updates, but there’s always the pressure of feeling like if I don’t post something, they’ll forget about me, and I won’t get hired again. If I don’t give everyone candy, I’ll be entirely alone.

Social media platforms were a vibrant place for a while. A rewarding way to make connections. But it’s changed. I’ve changed in how I respond to it. I get triggered. I’m pummeled with ads in my feeds and nonstop manipulative political content. It’s getting harder and harder to make those real connections because social media is so mired in muck. And I feel like I have to post more and more in hopes of being heard and seen. Even when I post more and more, I never really feel heard or seen. I don’t go viral. Going viral has become acknowledgment of worth, and you have no control over whether you go viral or not. Except it’s easy to think you’re not good enough or clever enough if you don’t get 10,000 likes.

Social media is starting to make me feel like I don’t matter. And that’s not healthy.

So I’m taking a couple weeks off of constantly posting. Just to see what happens. Just to see how I feel. It scares me, doing this, because I’m afraid I’ll be forgotten. That’s a sign to me that it’s become an unhealthy pattern. And one I need to take a deeper look at. Is it true I won’t ever be hired again? Or are there other ways I can connect and stay relevant?

Already this morning was strange. Instead of scrolling through Facebook, Twitter, TikTok, Hive….I sat on my couch with my dogs and looked through the pile of catalogs that have been accumulating. On my break, instead of posting, I’m writing this blog. When I took my dog to the vet, I read a cooking magazine. These little things were really lovely and soothing, and something I haven’t had time for.

Already, I feel a little more space in my life that wasn’t there before. I have a little more time.

I’m still panicked about it. I fear not being relevant, of losing work, of the effects of not promoting myself. But I’m also curious to see that what if I stopped feeding everyone candy? Who will stay? Maybe the true friends just need the opportunity and opening to approach me. Maybe I just need to be still enough to be available.

We’ll see. At any rate, it’s Day One of Social Media Vacation, and I’m just starting to relax, and that feels really, really good. I *like*it.  

ABOUT TANYA

Tanya Eby is an award-winning narrator and USA Today Bestselling author. She lives in Grand Rapids, Michigan with her two quirky kids and dogs.

FOR FURTHER READING

Check out Andi Arndt’s substack. She has a great article on Social Media Philosophy.

The Melancholia Of Healing

It is a warm day in June. The sun is shining, the bugs are out. I’m sitting with my friend Sara on her back deck drinking coffee. The woods are lush around us. Hummingbirds buzz by. 

I’m talking about being sad. 

It isn’t a sadness I feel, really, it’s more of a general melancholia, a sort of soft wave of sorrow that pulses at my feet. I’m not immersed in it, but I’m aware of it. I am sad, because I am happy. It’s strange, but it makes a kind of sense to me too. I think this peculiar melancholia I’m experiencing is because I’m healing, from past hurts, from disappointments, from not really understanding, until now, what it means to be loved.

I’ve been dating a man for almost four months and everything is new and tender. Soft. Gentle. Exciting. But in these few months, I’ve learned so much, and it makes me sad to look back at the previous 48 years of my life and realize that I did not know what being loved well meant. I didn’t know it was possible. And what makes me sad, the melancholy I feel, isn’t for where I’m at now. Where I’m at now is wonderful. The sadness is for where I’ve been.

I try to explain it to my friend: “It’s like when you go through a really stressful situation, maybe it’s a situation that lasts for years, like the end of a marriage, and until they’ve moved out or you’ve moved on and you can finally take that full deep breath, only then, do you realize the enormous stress you’ve been under. You didn’t even know you were stressed, because you got used to it. Only when the stress is over, can you feel it and recognize it. That’s how I feel right now. It’s like I’m looking back at all the tiny things I thought meant love, and seeing those things for what they really were. I accepted so little. I expected so little, but what else did I know? I didn’t know that things could be good. I didn’t know what being treated well meant, because I’ve never really experienced it. Not consistently. I’ve always had to  work so hard to get someone to love me, that I didn’t know it could be easy. And it makes me so sad that all these years, I didn’t understand. ”

I’m emotional writing this and I was emotional telling it. It’s hard to put into words, but I keep trying with my friend. “My aunt and uncle and I have had amazing conversations about mental health. We’ve talked about my mom and stepmom, the things they went through, how their minds changed over the years. For very different reasons, they were both women who were shaped by trauma and in turn it made them create trauma in others. I understand psychosis. I understand what can happen to the mind, but what I don’t understand, what I asked my aunt and uncle countless times was: ‘But what does a healthy mind look like? What’s a healthy mind like before trauma? What’s a healthy relationship?’ It’s so foreign to me, what healthy looks like. I wanted to know. I still do.”

My friend looks at me and her eyes are watery too. “You’re learning what a healthy relationship is,” she says.

“I didn’t know, until now. I didn’t know how hurt I’ve been. I thought that was just how life was. Now I know, now that I can see it, I’m so sad.”

She nods. “I  mean, I feel that too, sometimes. I look back on things I experienced, and now that I’m through it, I feel sad for who I used to be. I feel sad I made certain choices, let things happen to me.I feel sad for the past me and all the  things I  went through. But the thing is, you can’t know what you don’t know.”

This. This is the thing. There are some things you can’t know until you know. 

I did not know that I could meet someone with the same interests as me. Someone who likes foraging, cooking, and preserving. It goes beyond sharing interests. I did not know I  could meet someone whose self aligns so closely to my self. Someone who can match my mind with his own, who looks at the world deeply. I did not know that you could be friends with someone and also want them passionately. I thought it was one or the other. I did not know that you don’t have to prop someone else up by diminishing yourself. I did not know that intimacy is more than a kiss. Intimacy is a kind of dance, where you’re not really sure who is leading. I did not know how deeply unhappy I’ve been, how alone I felt even in relationships, because I thought things were the best they could be. My boyfriend is teaching me these things. 

In friendships, too, I did not know that you can ask for help. That a friend loves you and supports you and doesn’t expect anything in return. You don’t have to bribe them with favors,  or coerce them into loving  you. They love you because they do. And you can love them back just as easily. I didn’t know that until I experienced it. Sara taught me that. 

I’m sorry for the Tanya I used to be, who did not know that good things were possible. Who did not know to believe. Who did not know how to be loved.

I think this melancholia is okay. It goes along with healing. Healing is wonderful, but I think there's a bit of pain too as your spirit knits itself back together, the way a bone resets after being broken. I am giving it time. I am giving myself time. I’m enjoying things as they develop with my boyfriend, and I’m also doing nurturing things for myself: reconnecting with my love of cooking, long walks in the woods, time with my friends and kids. Work is not my number  one priority anymore, and it’s so healing to have a life outside  of it. I’m not putting as much energy into trying to prove to everyone that I’m lovable or talented or desirable. I’m just…living.

What I didn’t know then and I do now is that healing, even at 48 (almost 49!), is possible, and all those hurts and disappointments, even though they are part of the fabric that make you you, are also the fabric of your past. What is in your future, is up to you. 

I am learning that every day there are choices we make. To live fully, to love deeply, to stay true to our wants and needs. To accept love when it comes and to be grateful for it. I’m learning that I can feel mournful for what I’ve been through, and also thankful that I am through it. My past has brought me to this particular time and place: the hummingbirds, the woods, the sun, coffee with my friend, and a man who every day I connect with a little more, a little deeper. 

I don’t know what will happen tomorrow, but I know that I’ll greet tomorrow differently than I have, because now I know what healthy looks like. Healthy, looks (and feels) like this. 

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TANYA EBY is a narrator and a writer. She is currently working on a memoir about starting over called THE TUESDAY GIRL. If you like her work, please share it with others. She is currently looking for a literary agent to represent her.

Learning How To Be Loved

 Over the last month, I’ve been dating someone who is really wonderful. I’m happy. Excited. Hopeful. But mostly, I’m just incredibly grateful. I’m grateful for how it’s going, but mostly I’m grateful for what I’m learning. I’m learning how to be loved.

I’ve known how to give love. That part is easy. You care for people. You tell them how you feel. You are interested in their lives and what they do. You are emotionally open. You support them, boost them, laugh with them, and if it’s an intimate relationship, you show your love physically as well as emotionally.

Because of how I was raised (dysfunctional family system) and the relationships I’ve had, there’s also been other expectations to loving someone. You constantly work to prove you are worthy of being loved. You don’t quite feel worthy, so you work really hard to always say the right thing, do the right things. You ignore when you’re treated poorly because you expect to be treated poorly. Love is a one-way street. You give love, but you don’t really expect it back.

Over the last couple of years of being single again, I’ve been slowly learning that love is and should be reciprocated without having to ask for it. Without having to prove anything. Love is given and shared. Love is a dance.

My friend Sara and I have been going through similar things these last two years. We’ve been reinventing ourselves, working on healing, and are now living our lives and honoring what is important to us in relationships. And as I’ve been dating and struggling, she has gently pointed out to me when I wasn’t treated lovingly. That awful relationship with Jeff, she pointed out along the way the many times I wasn’t treated with kindness. I heard her, but I didn’t believe her. The treatment I had from him was what I expected. I couldn’t see the red flags. Truly. I couldn’t see them. Because in my experience, dating IS red flags. Dating is navigating a relationship that causes more pain than joy.

I’ve started to realize that in my search for love, I lived more in my mind than in the real world. I justified bad behavior (he’s busy, he’s not ready yet, he’s got his kids) because I just couldn’t see the truth: the relationships I’ve been in haven’t been healthy.

Two nights ago, I went to the houses of the man I’m seeing. We went for a walk and he pointed out to me spots to forage for wild asparagus. We found some Pheasant Back mushrooms for dinner. He held my hand and occasionally stopped by the side of the road just to kiss me. We chatted. Then we went back to his house and he cooked me dinner: marinated venison and grilled asparagus. He sauteed the mushrooms we foraged. He asked me to sit and just talk to him while he cooked. It was hard. To sit there. To let him take care of me. Because that’s what he was doing. He was taking care of me. I almost cried at the simplicity of such a thing.

As I left, he hugged and kissed me, said he’d miss the hell out of me and that he was already thinking of when we’d see each other again.

It occurred to me that he’s showing me (slowly through actions and words) what it is to be loved by someone. I don’t have to prove anything, or beg for time or attention. I don’t have to convince him of how worthy I am of his time or attention. We’re spending time together because we want to, because, as he said, dating each other is easy.

I’ve learned through my relationship with Sara that a friendship can be deeply loving. That I can love her with all my cells, and she can love me right back. It’s a joy for both of us, this giving and accepting.

I don’t know what will happen with him and me and I’m trying not to worry too much. I’m trying to just accept this goodness for what it is and to be grateful for it. What I do know, is that I am firmly rooted in the Now with him, and it is a beautiful thing.

Sitting here this morning, listening to birdsong and drinking my hazelnut and cinnamon coffee, I’m aware that I am learning that love should be easy. Love in all relationships (with your parents, family, friends, or a partner) isn’t something you have to earn.

Love is just something that IS.

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TANYA EBY is a narrator, writer, blogger, and an occasional good cook. This means she occasionally cooks tasty things. She is also occasionally a really bad cook. If you like her work, please share it on social media.  

While Looking For My Person, I Found My People

Hi again. I took a nice long break from my blog to give some creative space to the books I’m working on, but I have missed this space. I’ve missed writing to you here. I’ve had quite the few months since I last wrote. Emotional ups and downs. An awful revelation from the man I was dating (Jeff Stacer) that resulted in a HUFF POST article. And I’ve been trying to move on from that. 

I’m realizing how deeply that experience has changed me.

I met a nice man recently for brunch. Over egg scrambles and biscuits we talked about foraging wild mushrooms, things we want to do with our lives and past heartbreaks. He read the article I’d written so he knew what I’ve been through. And he asked a lovely question: “How are  you doing with all that? Are you free from it or still connected to him?”

It was an interesting question, and I appreciated the thoughtfulness and sensitivity in his asking. “I am emotionally free from it. The emotional connection I had to that man was actually for someone who didn’t exist. But I think that experience is going to affect me for years. I’m fearful, you know? I’m really afraid because I still want to be vulnerable and open, but how can I trust anyone? How do I stay safe?”

He mentioned that his past relationships have hardened him somewhat and that can be scary to new people. 

I thought how some relationships stay with us. It’s like a bit of scar tissue forms in our souls that we carry with us. And that scar tissue can affect our ability to move forward, our very mobility, because the moving on hurts. But maybe with time, we can find ways to work with it. It’s like that bit of wounding stays with us, but it doesn't stop us. It’s just part of our fabric of being.

I liked talking to this man, and maybe that is progress enough.

***
Recently I visited my dear friend Kim in Denver. We’ve been friends for nearly 30 years, since being roommates in college. She scheduled all these activities to do together, but based it on what she wanted to share with me, but also what she knew I’d love. We saw the Denver botanical gardens, ate at quirky local restaurants, explored Chanaqua, went to an interactive art exhibit Meow Wolf. And every day, she scheduled in time so I could take a nap. 

It was sweet and funny, that nap time, but the whole trip felt like a love letter written just for me. My friend knows me so well, that she knew I’d need time each day to rest and decompress.

On one of our nights out, I mentioned that there have been all these things I’ve wanted to do with my life, but I’ve been waiting for a partner, and I’m getting sad and tired of waiting. “What do you want to do?” she asked me.

“Like, you know, travel. I can do little trips on my own but there are places I want to go and it would just be more fun with someone else.”

“Like what? Where?”

I mentioned I’d like to go to Scotland, Italy, how I want to do a car trip up the coast of California and go to wineries. I’d like to rent a cabin in Tennessee or North Carolina. Hire a forager in Oregon and go hiking and look for mushrooms.

She looked at me and smiled and said “I’ll go with you. Let’s plan it!”

And that’s when the big epiphany hit me.

I don’t have to wait for a partner. Not for anything. 

All this time, I’ve been searching for my person, when if I’d really looked around, I’d have noticed I was surrounded and supported by my people.

I talk to my friend A. every day. We laugh, we complain, we set goals. I have dinner with my friend John and he makes me laugh. I meet weekly via zoom with my friend Shoshonaa to talk about what we’re writing. When I’ve traveled solo, I’ve been met in every city by narrators who have opened their arms to me, showed me around, spent time with me, introduced me to friends and family. If I’m in trouble, I have friends who I can call who will be there for me. If I want to fly to New York and see a Broadway show, I could ask any number of people to join me and it doesn’t have to be someone I’m dating.

Of course, I still want a companion to spend time with, be intimate with, explore life with…but that person doesn’t have to fill ALL my needs. 

Most of my needs are being met right now. And in turn, I’m trying to fill the needs my friends have of companionship, laughter, fun adventures, and sharing desserts not as the final part of the meal, but before the meal even starts.

Life is hard. Sometimes it’s truly painful. But we don’t walk it alone. And if I’ve learned anything over these last two years, is that all the time I felt alone, there was this community of support around me just waiting for me to take notice.

Kim and I are planning a trip to California to visit wineries next year. A. and I are going to Chicago. And I’m hoping to do some hikes and foraging with some other friends. 

This is not a lonely life. This is a rich life. And the heartache I felt because of one cruel person hasn’t hurt me forever. There’s a little part of me that is wounded from that, but I have no doubt this is a scar that's going to fade. Soon. 

The love of my life isn’t one person. The love of my life is my community.

And I’m so very grateful. 

Maybe you’ve experienced this too. Maybe you’ve felt really alone and didn’t realize there was a whole community around you, lifting you up. They’re there…like mushrooms in the woods, just waiting for your eyes to adjust so you can see them. 

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TANYA EBY is a writer and audiobook narrator. She lives in Michgan with her wonderful kids and pups. She is looking for an agent to represent her two new books.

What I Learned About Ghosting, Dating, And Myself In 2021

2021 is almost done and…yeah. It wasn’t much different from 2020, was it? Pandemic still. We’re all hurting. We’re all frustrated. In dating, it also feels like we’re losing the ability to connect as real people. We’re kinda bad at it. But maybe that’s just modern living.

I had a softly sad holiday. My anxiety about it was much worse than the reality, but the writer in me can appreciate just how sad it could’ve been, if I’d allowed myself to lean into that. My kids with their dad in Canada, and because I’m not seeing anyone and I don’t have any family near me, I ended up alone. That’s pretty much my worst fear. Being alone. It taps into all the abandonment issues I have.

So Christmas Eve came and Christmas morning, and I was alone, and it was hard. A friend sent me a present so I had one under the tree, but even that was a little tragic. I went for a long walk on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, to enjoy the solitude, the outdoors, and to reflect a little.

I realized some things, and since this is typically a week of reflection before the New Year hits, I thought I’d share some of these:

1)    I was technically alone for the holidays, but I also wasn’t alone. I’d had dinner with my close girlfriends just the night before. I talked to one of my friends on each day. My kids called me at 7 in the morning, right when they woke up. I received texts from people I care about. I texted too. I chatted with a couple of men I might meet. I learned I was alone in my house, but I wasn’t alone in the world. That was the part I was afraid of. Knowing I have people who love me, knowing I love others back, is important.

2)    I thought a lot about ghosting. Two men I’d met recently just stopped communicating with me. I knew what it meant. They were gone. *poof* But I tried to think about what it meant to me. It didn’t feel cruel, exactly, it felt like, well, they just aren’t interested. And I filled the silence with an explanation, “Tanya, I just don’t feel the connection I need to keep seeing you. You’re a kind and interesting person, but we just don’t have that much in common. And maybe some of the attraction I need to feel isn’t strong enough between us.” That’s the story I told myself, and what was interesting, is I realized that I could’ve said the same thing to both of these men. “We just don’t have IT, whatever IT is.” But saying it feels cruel. It feels like “You’re not good enough” and that’s not what it is. So I’ve learned, that for me, I’m going to take ghosting as more of a gentle kindness of letting go.

3)    I realized that if someone wants to see me or get to know me, they’ll pursue it with me. If they don’t pursue it, they’re not really into me to begin with. This is important for me to know. 

4)    I realized that I want a strong physical attraction to whomever I date next. It’s important to me. I’ve settled on this aspect a number of times—of dating someone who I wasn’t really attracted to—and I’ve been left wanting. Literally. I’ve tried to get used to the idea that attraction can develop, but it hasn’t happened for me. So instead of forcing it, I’m acknowledging that I want chemistry. I’ve learned that I don’t need to be embarrassed about this. This is something that’s important to me, and owning it is liberating. I want a mutual attraction with the man I date.

5)    I learned that needs aren’t met by one person, but by a community. I need my friends for talking, laughing, and analyzing. I need the person I date for talking with, having fun with, and having a physical connection with. I need my family to help me feel grounded. I need to stay active because it keeps me connected to my body. And I need to keep writing because it feeds my soul. Looking to one person to fill all these needs isn’t healthy. I need a village. 

6)    I learned that heart break is terrible, but I also learned I’m capable of loving authentically, hopefully, and passionately. It sucks that it wasn’t returned, but what’s important here is that I now know I am capable of loving with my whole self. I didn’t know that before. 

7)    I learned that life is hard and we’re all a little broken, but we go on, we go on, we keep trying, and then we have moments when we’re together, in the night or the morning or the sun of day, and we feel loved and supported and cared for. We can laugh then. We can cry. We can relax. We can gather strength from each other to keep on going on. We can be broken and beautiful at the same time.

8)    I learned that the voice inside me that tells me I’m not enough, isn’t telling the truth. That’s an old voice. It’s a voice from the past, from mistakes, from regret. But it’s not a real voice. It’s not my voice. My voice knows the truth: I am SO enough.

9)    I learned that relationships sometimes end. Friendships, marriages, dating, relationships in a family. But I also learned that relationships can begin. And a relationship is not defined by forever. A relationship can be a great conversation over a cup of coffee that doesn’t get repeated. A relationship can be walking with a friend, or it can be seeing someone and feeling your body and heart begin to bloom. A relationship is simply a connection between people, for however long, and it is something to be grateful for.

10) I learned that I’m not perfect. Well, actually, I already knew that. What is closer to the truth is…I learned that I don’t want to be perfect. I enjoy being flawed. I enjoy figuring life out. I like fumbling and failing. I like starting again. I like apologizing, I like exploring, and I really like being kissed. 

That’s a long list, but it’s been a long year.

Here is hoping that we all keep going on and learning, and connecting. I hope every once in a while, we all have moments of being alone (even though it’s scary) for a little bit to check in with our spirits. I hope we realize that being alone isn’t lonely. Being alone can also be a time of being whole. 

May 2022 bring you laughter, and love, and good food, and great conversations, deep connection, and every once in a while, a really good kiss. 

-Tanya-

All I Want For Christmas Is A Handyman

Dear Santa, 

As you know, the kids will be in Canada this Christmas and I’m all on my own, so I just have one simple request this holiday season.

Santa, all I want for Christmas is a Handyman.

You remember when I hired those dudes this summer to fix my roof and they pulled down my fairy lights? I’m not tall enough to put them back up, so if my handyman could do that, I’d be really grateful.

And could he please fix the steps into the basement and patch the celling at the top of the stairs? Could he hang the velvet curtains for me in my laundry room so that I can conceal just how many cooking supplies I have for dinners I don’t cook?

And also, Santa, do you think my Handyman could maybe give me a massage? Not a big one. Just a little one. Maybe just play with my hair a little? Rub my shoulders? Do some deep-tissue massaging all over my wet and slick body, warmed by the shower I was taking while he worked hard fixing my house and my life?

Could my handyman wear a toolbelt and no shirt? It doesn’t have to be a big toolbelt. It just needs to have a few of the essential fixing tool thingies on there.

And could my handyman moonlight as a piano playing singer? Maybe he has a voice filled with pain and angst? And good strong hands, that somehow still manage to play those keys tenderly?

Santa, could he write a song for me? 

Santa, could he write a song ON me?

Could my handyman, after he has fixed my house and my aching muscles, could he stand in front of the fireplace without his shirt and look at me with burning eyes and say “From the minute I walked in here, I knew I wanted two things. One, to make your life easier and fix that annoying light that won’t stop buzzing, and also Two, to worship you with my tongue.”

Could he maybe say that and while I blush and say “Oh, you’re joking!” Could he reach for me, his muscles flexing in the firelight, and could he pull me to him and kiss me, kiss me so deeply I feel it through my bones, rooting me to the floor. Could he maybe say that if all he gets for Christmas is my kiss, he’ll be happy, but he won’t be satisfied?

Could you maybe make that work?

It’s the holidays, and you wouldn’t want me all by lonesome, would you? I have always been your biggest fan, because I still BELIEVE.

And I believe you can make this happen for me.

And if you can’t, I understand, but maybe you could just come over instead? I’ve been very nice all year long Santa, and I really believe it’s time to be just a little naughty.

Thank you.

Happy Holidays!

Tanya

ABOUT TANYA

Tanya writes stuff. If this made you laugh, please share it with a friend, and check out Tanya’s funny romcom series written with Sarina Bowen called MAN HANDS.

Every Time I Do A Tarot Reading On My Love Life, I Draw The Death Card

 I’m not particularly religious in any direction, but I do enjoy a good tarot reading every now and then. I have a beautiful deck with woodland creatures, and every now and then I pull a card and then ponder it, thinking on how it pertains to my life.

I kid you not…the last three times I’ve pulled a card from the tarot deck wondering about my love life, I’ve pulled the Death card. 

And then I laughed. Because, come on, that shit is funny.

Me: Universe? What’s the status on my love life?”

Universe: Honey, that shit is DEAD. 

Tarot Deck by Kim Crans

***

Of course, if you do any deep diving into the meaning of cards, death doesn’t mean The End. Well, it does, but not ‘The End’ as in ‘Decay’ or to ‘Cease Existence’.  It actually means transformation. It means you need to let go of some old thought patterns, some traps that are holding you back. It’s time for the end of a way of thinking or how you behave so that you can enter a new way of thinking or behavior.

At least, this is how I’m interpreting it.

Recently, I asked a man I’ve had a fun text thread with his thoughts on relationships and sex and dating. I was curious because his perspective on life is so completely different than mine that I find his answers really interesting, and sometimes mind blowing. This is what I asked:

“Sex without love or an emotional commitment or connection still feels good to you? Like you don’t feel empty after? I’m purely curious. No judgment. I’d love to understand.”

I waited for his answer. I thought there was an 89% chance he wouldn’t answer and our little texting would end. But he did answer.

“I think there are a lot of assumptions baked into that question. For example, that monogamy is necessary for love. Or emotional connections. I think that idea is far more closely related to ideas of security, which can begin to verge on ideas of possession. And of course in real life monogamy doesn’t guarantee security anyway.”

I had to think about that. 

Weeks later, I’m still thinking about it.

***

Here’s what blew my mind. All these years, I thought sex with a committed partner was about love. But maybe, maybe for me, it wasn’t always. Maybe it was about security. Wanting security and stability. And maybe this deep need I have for a relationship right now isn’t really about what I thought it was. Maybe it’s because I feel lost and like I’m floating, and a relationship helps me feel secure and grounded.

But then again, does a relationship always feel secure? My last ones sure didn’t. And should I even be looking for a relationship to feel secure? Shouldn’t I just MAKE my life secure, instead of thinking I can get stability from someone else?

This, my friends, is where the death is happening. I need to change some of my thinking and my assumptions.

I can want companionship and connection, but I shouldn’t be looking for anyone to provide security to me. This is something I need to give myself, because honestly, the only person who can make me feel secure…is ME. 

So.

Fuck.

Okay.

Now what?

So….

What if I entered the dating world from a place of security instead of fear? What if I made sure I had a stable home (I do), and an income (fingers crossed), and that I cultivated intimate (emotionally intimate) relationships with people I care about, like my friends? What if I felt secure in who I am and how I live and I didn’t need that provided to me in a relationship?

What if I didn’t NEED a relationship at all? 

What if, in feeling secure already, a relationship with someone else, however long or short it lasted, could be experienced as a gift? As a moment, or moments, of deep connection?

What if dating could be fun?

***

Whatever path you’re on, are there some beliefs you’ve always held that maybe could use a little transformation? A gentle kind of death? Are there ideas you’re holding onto that are holding you back? 

It’s an interesting question, and something I’m taking a deeper look at. 

My brain hurts from thinking of things and I’m honestly breathing a little quickly right now. It’s like I can feel myself starting to change. It’s a little scary shifting your footing from what you’ve always known, to something new. 

Maybe, though, this is what transformation feels like. It feels tremulous. It feels a little scary. And it’s also a little exciting. 

What other things do I know that are true that maybe, just maybe, could use a little transformation?

Man.

I’ve got some work to do.

ABOUT TANYA EBY

Tanya Eby is a narrator and a writer. Like her work? Leave a comment, share with a friend, or buy one of her books. But really, just you reading her blogs makes Tanya really happy.

Dating The Unavailable

When I was ten years old, I had a serious and painful crush on a kid named Tim. He was so wholesome. He wore buttoned shirts with the collar flipped up (I remember the green one in particular) and high-waisted jeans. He had a puffy jacket and sneakers. He like teddy bears and musicals and wasn’t as pushy as the other boys at school. Reader, I loved him.

I did not realize then that I was establishing a lifelong pattern of yearning for unavailable men. Because Tim did not return my affections. Tim did not return the affections of any of the many girls who loved him. Our dear Tim was gay. As gay as gay can be. Maybe that’s why I loved him so. He was never going to be for me.

 ***

As I’ve grown and changed and learned, this is still a pattern I have yet to break: I want the men who don’t want me back. Not on purpose, I swear! And it’s something I’m getting increasingly angry about. Through counseling, I’ve had two separate therapists over the years say the same thing: If I have a deep attraction to a man—RUN. They say it has something to do with having a dad who chose a different family to love. I’m always chasing after the one who doesn’t want me in the hopes that maybe one day he will, and that tender lost tiny-Tanya part of me can heal.

Whatever. It’s annoying.

And it’s infuriating that the men I want the most are bad for me.

So I’m really trying to break this pattern, but it’s confusing. If men I’m attracted to are bad for me, then do I settle for men who I’m not attracted to? Or can attraction grow through time and experience and laughter? And if so, how MUCH time and experience and laughter? How long do I wait to see if it shows up?

And I’m really angry, too, because it feels like I don’t get to experience falling for someone who lights me up, and have them light up in return. One of my friends reminds me that I can have this, but it takes time. It shouldn’t happen right away. I don’t know. I’m not convinced. 

I’m getting really pissy about this and I want to tell my therapists to fuck right the hell off. I want someone I have a crazy fire for. I want to want someone on a cellular level. I deserve that. Don’t we all? 

Then I take a look at what’s happening now.

Could those therapists be right? Could I be only deeply attracted to unavailable men?

No. Not possible!

But then…I’m dating. I’m out there. I’m using all the courage I can to put myself out there. I’ve gone to restaurants, axe throwing, had drinks, had brunch, gone for walks. And it’s been nice. Fun.

But who do I sit at home and think about? The guy who broke my heart! STILL! And to continue getting over  him, I’ve been texting this new guy who is everything I thought I wanted: masculine, incredibly flirty, blue collar but also creative, passionate, intelligent. What’s wrong with that? BECAUSE HE’S NOT AVAILABLE! How do I know he’s not available? BECAUSE HE LIVES ON A FUCKING ISLAND IN NORTHERN MICHIGAN AND BELIEVES THAT MONOGAMY IS A CONVENTION CREATED FOR CONTROLLING OTHERS! 

That’s how unavailable he is. A man who literally lives on an island. 

His texts also light me up.

Well.

Fuck.

 ***

My friends says I put too much pressure on myself. Go out! Have fun! Let things develop slowly!  I smile and agree and inside I’m seething. But this isn’t fun! This is so hard! I don’t want to date multiple people. I don’t like getting to know several men at once. I want ONE man, who I’m intellectually and physically attracted to, that I can feel safe enough with to be passionate with and to eventually love.

So when my friend says “Have fun!” what I feel is “Agony”.

I’m not entirely sure I’m built for light-hearted fun. I don’t know how to stay on the surface and let attraction and intimacy develop because the truth is—I’ve never had that happen. Not once. 

Secretly, I don’t believe it’s possible.

What I really really want is to not play the game. 

That’s not quite true. 

What I really really want is to go back in time and have my dad choose me, to choose to stay in my life, to have a mom who was healthy and happy. I want a childhood that was safe and beautiful, so I wouldn’t have to waste so much of my adult life trying to heal from it.

Things don’t change on their own though. You’ve got to help change happen. 

 ***

I’m telling the Island Guy I’m not communicating with him anymore. He’s a fantasy, and what I want is something real.

I’m going to give more time to the actual men who ARE available and seem genuinely interested in me. They are good men. Kind, funny, cute. And maybe through going slowly, maybe something will develop that has real depth, and maybe real attraction (instead of false attraction) can ignite. I am, actually, attracted to the men I’ve gone out with. It just hasn’t been a system-wide overload. That’s what I need to avoid: the system overload. And I need to remember that in letting go of what is bad for me, I’m also making myself more available to what is true and good.

I’m trying to relax, to breathe deeply, to trust that someday I’m going to meet someone who is willing to get to know me slowly and who can be patient with me so I can learn to love from a place of healing. Maybe I’ve already met them, and I just haven’t realized it yet.

That’s a nice thought.

I’m going to sit with that idea for a while. 

 ###

TANYA EBY

Tanya is a writer, blogger, tiny poem writer, and narrator. You can check out some of her books here.

I Can Do New Things

For the last two years, Glennon Doyle’s quote of “I can do hard things” has seen me through. It gave me strength when I didn’t think I had any, and hope when it was hard to find.

I’m finding now, though, that I’m through the divorce and transition and my first dating-heartbreak, the thing I’m thinking now isn’t so much “I can do hard things” but “I can do NEW things”.

 ***

I’m really pushing myself to go beyond what is known, what I’ve always done, and try to say yes to things I’ve never done but wanted to. I want to start being the person I’ve longed for: an adventurous spirit, a lover of life, a person who dives in. 

I was talking to a friend today and I told her that I was asked out on Friday, and he asked if I wanted to do something active or non-active. Usually, I’d say non-active. Let’s just go to dinner, but I really want to do an activity. (Don’t get me wrong. I love going out to dinner.) I want to be the kind of person that DOES. I want to be active, and to do that with someone else. So I said to my friend that I was scared but “I want to be someone who tries new things.” 

She promptly responded, “But you already are.”

(I’m not sure what NEW THING is happening in this picture, but I am all for it.)

“I’m not,” I said. “What if he wants to go skiing or hiking and what if I’m really bad at it? I’m terrified of being bad at it, but I also really want to try it. I’m not a person who tries stuff.”

She laughed at me then, but with love. “Tanya, you’ve started businesses. You’ve produced and published books. You didn’t know how to do that and you figured it out. You didn’t know how to buy a house or start over, and you figured it out. You are already a person who does new things, now you just want to do new FUN things.”

It’s liberating, this idea that I’m already the person I’ve always wanted to be. 

I’m just applying it to dating now. 

I can have a fun, flirty texting spree with someone who lives miles away if I want to try that. I can go out on a date that isn’t just sitting in a restaurant. I can try skiing, or ice skating, or sledding. I can be terrible at things. I can fail at things. And I can try other things.

I can date someone who interests me intellectually, or physically, or both. I can be passionate, I can be reserved, I can be crass, I can be reflective. I can try new foods, I can learn to drink beer, I can grow my hair long and cut my bangs short. I can wear clothes that are form fitting. I can wear an old flannel shirt and worn jeans. I can travel. I can fall in love. I can fall in lust. I can be in a relationship. I can be single.

I know some of this is bordering on a really cheesy “I can do anything!” kind of musical number, but it’s a realization that is kind of mind-blowing.

For so long, I’ve focused on what I’ve been lacking (a long term committed relationship, a close family, a book deal) that I honestly didn’t see what I do have: 

Possibility.

And the only thing that has been stopping me from doing new things…has been me.

Well.

Fucking A.

Now that I know this, I only have one more question: What am I going to do next?

TANYA EBY

Tanya is a writer, a narrator, and a mom.

She doesn’t know how to iron and that’s not something she wants to learn.

She does want to learn how to cross-country ski.

She hopes that in her blogs, you find something to connect to, and something that encourages you to keep going, keep trying, keep growing.

If you like her work, please share it on social media. 

What Does Being A Better Person Mean

Even though the weather is getting colder in Michigan, I’m still trying to get my walks in. It’s the only thing that really helps my anxiety and it gives me time to process whatever I need to process, or to think about the next poem I’m going to write, or the next section in the book I’m working on. Walking calms me, soothes me, and just feels pretty great. 

Yesterday, a friend called from out east and I walked with her, or I walked while she drove. We caught each other up on our lives and business and kids. I talked a little about dating, but not too much. She’s read the blogs. She knows. She said that she had read a line once that stayed with her that most relationships end, and I felt comforted by that. Not all relationships are forever. In fact, most aren’t. And that’s okay. That’s as it should be. You learn a lot from the little relationships that you can use in the bigger ones. 

To take the focus off of my general heartache, I said, “You know, I’m just doing the work. I’m trying to be a better person.”

Then she asked me, “What’s that mean exactly?”

And I was kinda stumped. I thought: I’m trying to be a better person. I know what that means, don’t I? It means I’m trying to…Wait. I dunno. Fuck. I don’t know what it means!

After we said goodbye, I thought about it some more. What did I mean I was trying to be a better person? Aren’t I a good person to start with? I think I am. I think I’m a flawed person who’s made some pretty big mistakes and hurt people along the way, but haven’t we all? Aren’t we all a little fucked up? A little hurtful? And sometimes, aren’t we all a little wonderful?

I realized then that I’m not actually trying to be a better person. I’m not. I’m trying to break patterns. I’m trying to live deeper. I’m trying to connect with others on a soul level and go beyond the bullshit. 

I’m not trying to be a better person. I’m trying to be a brighter person. 

One of my dear friends and I talk almost every day. And we’re at similar points in our lives with starting over, but also trying to figure out how we got to where we are, how we let certain things happen, how we weren’t able to say the things that mattered to us in a way that our partners could hear us. And now we’re both trying to make different choices.

I think in my dating life, I’ve been a little too vulnerable. A little too open. I know how to be married and the intimacy of that, but slowly building intimacy in a new relationship is completely foreign to me. So far, I’m not so great at it. I don’t like the idea of having to put walls back up and be guarded. I don’t like the idea of starting to get to know someone from a place of wounding. I have been in a place of wounding for too long. I want to start a relationship from a place of hopefullness. So how do I connect without connecting too soon or too much or too whatever? 

I’ve been trying to answer the above by ‘being a better person’. But that’s the wrong approach.

How, then, do I make my life and relationships not better…but brighter? More alive? More vibrant? More fulfilling? 

If I pull back the lense, if I do that cool movie thing where the camera quickly pans back, something astonishing happens. 

Instead of me siting on my couch all alone and sad like, I see myself walking with my friend, leaves swirling around us, her complaining it’s too cold, me complaining it’s not cold enough. I see myself at a coffee shop (like I am right now) with my avocado toast and pickled onions working on a blog.

I see myself at a counter eating fish n’ chips with a man who regrets getting a tattoo of a dolphin because his friends have teased him about it for 20 years. I see meeting another friend for shrimp & grits and a discussion on how hard it is to have the courage to date again.

I see myself snacking on appetizers at a friends’ house while we listen to jazz and watch the sun lower over the lake outside their house.

I see myself cuddling with my kiddo on the couch and watching cooking shows, and hugging my other kiddo when they were having a bad day and I could feel their body go from cold steel to warm and soft. I see myself talking on Zoom with my writing partner, or my accountability partner, or with other narrators about our careers. I see myself at my favorite market buying fresh bread and mushrooms and cheese and wine. I see myself at the tree lighting ceremony I’m going to tonight. 

And holy fuck.

HOLY FUCK.

The brighter life I’ve been wanting to build…I’M ALREADY DOING IT.

I just need to keep going. 

I think there is room for everyone, at some point, to look at your life and choices and see if there is space to make sure you’re doing and saying things that align with your heart. And there’s room to apologize when we fuck up, because we will fuck up. There’s room for meals with friends, and for time on our couches. There’s room to say the wrong thing, change our minds, and then say an amended thing that is possibly a kinder thing. There is room to be vulnerable and room to be a little guarded. And room to know that with time, all things deepen and change. 

So. I think I figured this bit out. For now at least.

The truth is, I’m not trying to be a better person. I’m just trying…to be. 

ABOUT TANYA EBY

Tanya Eby narrates stuff and writes stuff and cooks stuff. She likes stuff. But not too much stuff, or not too much stuff all at once. If you like her blogs, please share them with others.

There Is A Reason Why I Overshare

When talking about social media or my writing, I sometimes jokingly say, “I’m an over-sharer.” But it’s not a joke. Not really. I’m aware that I share intimate details of my life. That I’m sometimes a little too vulnerable, or honest, or raw.

I promise you, there is a reason for it.

Maybe there are many reasons for it. On the surface, it’s nice to write something and have others read it and appreciate it. That’s affirming to me. When so much of my work with narration is sent into a black void and I never really hear feedback on my performance, it’s nice to create something and have people acknowledge it.

But the real reason I over-share is deeper.

I was raised in a really dysfunctional home. One of the signs you’re in a dysfunctional family (or relationship) is there are many unspoken rules that you know in your core being, and you have to follow those rules or your safety is at risk. You don’t behave certain ways, you control your emotions, you don’t feel things. It all protects you. Maybe the biggest rule of all is that you DON’T TALK ABOUT THE DYSFUNCTION IN YOUR HOME. (You don’t talk about Fight Club.) 

If you talk about it, if you tell someone, maybe your parents will get in trouble. Maybe others will know you need help. Maybe they’ll shame your parents, or take you out of your home and put you in foster care. If you talk about it, you’re holding someone accountable, and you don’t hold a parent (or partner) accountable. You just don’t.  It’s a huge pressure, to not name or acknowledge the danger you’re in. So you don’t. You get really good at being strong and quiet, of tucking feelings so deep inside that you not only can’t feel, but you don’t know if your feelings even exist anymore. 

When I went to college and started life on my own, I made a couple of promises to myself: 

1)     If I had kids, I would never let them be put in harm’s way physically or emotionally.

AND

2)    I would talk about the things you don’t talk about. 

Thankfully, I’ve followed my #1 rule. It’s led to some hard decisions, but my kids are living healthy, normal, teenage lives. 

But I have struggled with rule #2.

***

This “don’t talk” rule/pressure has followed me throughout my life, and I have fought with wanting to talk about things, but feeling I shouldn’t because I’d hurt someone’s feelings, or shame them, or put my own safety at risk. I have sometimes fallen into a pattern of silence (see the two-year gap in between blogs), and I’ve struggled with the pressure of silence in relationships. 

This is why: 

 If you don’t talk about the problems you’re having in your marriage, then things will get better, right? Because once you talk about it, you give it power and it destroys everything. If you don’t acknowledge the problems that you have in your family or with your parents, then you look like you have a great life and people will admire you. As soon as you tell the truth, that fantasy disintegrates. 

I’ve lived like that for a while on and off, in the land of not talking about it, but then I get strong, I’ve had enough, and I speak all the words. 

Writing for me, then—my truest, rawest, most vulnerable writing—is an act of rebellion. 

***

I talk about the things you don’t talk about. When I’m mad, I’m mad. I say so. When I’m hurt, confused, ashamed, I talk about it, I write about it, I question it. When I’m in a relationship, I tell them what I’m feeling (You excite me, I feel so relaxed with you, You fill my cup) but I also challenge who I’m seeing with questions: 

Why did this happen? 

This is how I’m feeling. Do you understand why I’m acting the way I am? 

You say one thing, but your actions say another. Why? 

I don’t understand what’s happening. Can you explain it to me? 

These can be uncomfortable conversations, but they’re so important. When we talk about what we shouldn’t talk about, we figure out ways to heal. That’s how you solve problems. It’s not ignoring problems that makes them go away: it’s shining a spotlight on them. 

I write about things that are personal because it does a couple of things for me: it helps me figure out my life and maybe, just maybe, it helps someone reading it to see that what they’re experiencing has happened to someone else.

 ***

I’ve realized over the years, that naming The Crazy, or naming The Troubling, doesn’t give it power. It actually disarms the power. When you can talk about hard things, tell true feelings and struggles, you start to have some control over what’s happening to you. You make it real, acknowledge it, and then you’re better able to figure out how to deal with it. Talking about what’s true, helps to normalize your struggle and suddenly options you didn’t know you had start to come into focus. 

I try to live an authentic life. I try to be as true as possible. Sometimes, that’s a wonderful thing, and sometimes it’s brutally painful. But here’s the other thing that I’ve realized: living a true life is deeply human. It helps me feel connected to others. And it gives me agency in my life to make the changes I need to in order to thrive.

But, yes, I also like the surface affirmation. I’m an artist at heart and, really, couldn’t we all use a little more love in our lives? A little validation? 

It’s nice to have others say, “I see you. I hear you. I understand you.”

I feel like through writing this blog, I can honestly say, whatever you’re going through: I see you. I hear you. I understand you.

Here’s to living a life with less bullshit and more honesty. Here’s to acknowledging that our lives are not shiny Instagram feeds, but incredibly complex and layered. Maybe in the sharing of that truth, we can all feel a little less alone. 

 ###

-Tanya Eby-

Goodbye Dating Hello Streaming Services

If you follow my blog at all, you know that I’ve been looking for a deep and meaningful connection with someone—one that’s passionate, kind, warm, and safe. I thought I found it, but I was wrong, and so I started looking again. 

I’m doing the things you should: I’ve been working on getting fit, losing weight. I’ve been working on myself: getting therapy, reading books on relationships, breaking patterns. I’m moving forward in my life consciously and really trying to own up to the mistakes I’ve made, and create the life I’ve always wanted. In many ways, I have the life I wanted. It’s a good life. It is. 

But…..

 I’ve been doing the whole dating app thing and have gone out a number of times, meeting and talking to very kind men. I’ve had fun, but it’s not quite what I’m looking for. There’s no magic. There’s none of the energy that happens in conversation when you’re super excited to talk to someone. My body isn’t lighting up with desire, or interest, or…anything really. I’m just flat. I don’t think the issue is them. I think the issue is ME. 

It occurred to me this week that though I really want a deep connection, I really want love, I don’t think I get to have that. Let me rephrase that: I don’t think I get to have that YET.

It’s not the right time. I’m fighting so hard to make something happen, and it’s actively hurting me.

The apps are triggering for me. I never feel pretty enough, or young enough, or stylish enough. The men who reach out to me (with a few exceptions) clearly either haven’t read the profile or there are significant differences in our education level, what we’re looking for, our ages, whatever. That’s not to say that I can’t fall in love with someone who is REALLY different from me, but the chances are pretty slim. 

Since getting back on dating apps I’ve felt progressively worse about myself. How do I compete with 30 year old women who have long hair, do yoga, and are Instagrammable? I’m spending money and time on something that is hurtful to me, and the men I’ve met, while wonderful, aren’t necessarily wonderful for me. At least right now. It’s not fair to the men I’ve met, because I’m not open. I’m so guarded again that it’s going to take a lot to get past these walls that have sprouted around me. I have no idea how to take those walls down. Honestly, I don’t really want to right now, because when you’re vulnerable and open, you can get really hurt. Hurt down to your soul. 

It makes me so sad. I don’t want to be like this, but I don’t know how NOT to be like this. 

So, some deep breaths here. 

There are things that need attention in my life beyond my own heart: my kids are struggling with different things and I need to be really present for them. I don’t feel secure in my job and I need to invest some energy into a side hustle. My house needs attention. My dogs need me to play with them more. And I need tending to. I’m so tired. I feel beat up. I mean that literally.  My body hurts. 

Maybe, what I need, is time on the couch. Kicking back to watch some movies. Maybe I need to stop working on myself and improving and growing and communicating and flirting and dating. Maybe, I just need a little time to heal. 

With the holidays coming, and the ever-present threat of Covid increasing as things move indoors, and the pressure to be happy and loved and in a relationship…

I

Just

Can’t.

So. This, then, will be a time of rest. Clearly, I need it. I need a full body scrub too and a facial. I need a trip to New York. But I’ll start small. I’ll start, tonight, with my dogs snuggled next to me while we watch some movie. My kids will come home tomorrow and I’ll try to figure out how to help them navigate all that’s happening in their tender lives. I’ll cook good food for them. I’ll be here for them even though they won’t need me, because they need me. I’ll put my energy I’ve been spending looking for love, into the love I have for my friends. Maybe we’ll get together over the holidays and I can wear the leather pants and sparkly shirt and heels I just ordered. 

It’s going to be okay. 

I’m going to be okay. 

I’m, actually, already okay, but I am also very tired. 

There are many ways that love shows itself in our lives. I’ve been trying to push it into the expression that I wanted, and maybe things don’t work that way. At least, not right now. 

Maybe I just need a little time to let the love in my life that IS, just BE. 

This is a picture of TANYA EBY. She is a blogger, narrator, and her current nightly plans involve scary movies and red wine. Like her stuff? Connect to it? Please comment or share.