“…I will take up my pencil, which I have forsaken in my great discouragement, and I will go on with my (writing).” - a (revised) Van Gogh quote
Poetry, Prose, and Eventually Back to Policy
I will get back to structured analysis of law and government soon. For now, though (as I said in my last post) things might lean a little more personal and introspective. But my goal with writing was always not just to inform, but to feel - and to be felt.
In these recent months I have been using writing like a lifeline. Pouring out all the bleeding parts of my soul into messy and raw fragments in my journals. Most of that is just for me, and no matter how personal I may get here, it’s not the kind of thing I’d share on this platform.
But I think some things are broadly relatable and, like the title of the blog reflects, there are through lines that connect human experiences even when no two situations are exactly the same. So I’ll see what I can tie together that might be relatable.
First, A Little Honesty
Since my last post, I’ve been…here. Holding and handling some tough things. Not seeking sympathy, just saying: life is precious and hard; and marriage is real work.
When someone you love is grieving - deeply and viscerally - and you are close enough to feel it reverberate in your own chest, you learn things. About yourself and about what hard times teach us. What they shake loose. How they change what we notice. What we need. What we choose.
You learn that love is not just sweetness and forehead kisses - it is endurance. That strength is not the absence of emotion, but the willingness to feel fully and keep going. That presence is a gift, not a performance. That making someone feel heard and seen is more than just being quiet while they talk. It is the subtle work of witnessing in the stillness. Without the tools or urge to fix it - just…being there.
Love and healing are messy. Growth is complicated and nonlinear. It’s mistakes and explosions and apologies. It’s distractions and tough emotions and silence. It’s doing the routine things even when you feel broken. Taking out the trash when you feel empty inside. Doing your skincare routine with tears in your eyes. Learning each other not just in joy, but in sorrow. Holding space even when you’re tired, even when your own needs are whispering for attention.
So yes, my little corner of the internet may look a little more reflective for a while. Poetic even. Writing has always been a way back to myself and I want to start sharing it again. However it comes out.
The Beauty of Opposites
My husband and I are about as different as two people can be. I’m realizing that more and more every year - every day that passes. And sometimes, even with that knowledge, I still expect him to move in ways I can anticipate. Or he expects me to match his energy even in chaotic environments. But despite our differences and our endless journey to try to understand each other better, I have a core belief that our differences only make us stronger.
We have challenged each other and educated each other. We have grown and stretched and evolved through the friction. Even the things we once clashed over have become lessons - invitations to see the world through each other’s eyes.
I had the idea for this poem a few months ago. It came to me in a rhythm, as a poetic inventory of all the ways us being each other’s opposite has been our strength. A romantic piece about the give and take of loving someone so different from you.
The Storm and The Sea
He was the storm that moved without caution
She was the sea that waited patiently, moved methodically,
and asked big questions
He was fire and energy
She was water and stillness
He was chaos
She was calm
He felt things loud and fast
Like thunder clapping overhead
She felt things slow and deep,
Like currents moving through coral and around continents
He followed sparks
She followed tides
He exploded
She absorbed
His anger came quickly, but burned fast
Hers was slower, but smoldered longer
Sitting beneath the surface when others had long forgotten
He blurted without thinking
She ruminated until she forgot to speak
And then…
He came along and found in her a place to land
And she finally found a way to leap!
He brought spontaneity and instinct
She brought wisdom and forethought
He challenged and even changed the sea’s currents
She tamed and teased the storm overhead
Though their forces sometimes fought
The flow between them forged something lasting
He made grand gestures
She made quiet choices
She showed him how to tend
He showed her how to burn
She helped him slow down
He helped her push through
He taught her to speak louder
She taught him to listen longer
He taught her to take up space
She taught him to make room
He believed in action
She believed in reflection
She brought questions
He brought certainty
And somewhere between doubt and faith, they both grew
He tried her patience
She tried his understanding
He made promises with his heart
She hesitated, weighing every word
But when she said yes, she meant it
And when he tried, it counted
He chased the horizon
She studied the earth beneath them, the stars overhead
And together they built something steady and strong
And charted a course forward
He taught her to stop second-guessing
She taught him to follow through
He loved hard and loud
She loved soft and deep
She taught him that devotion isn’t dramatic
He taught her that joy doesn’t have to be quiet
He showed her how to feel alive
She showed him how to feel safe
She taught him that silence doesn’t mean distance
He taught her that noise doesn’t mean disconnection
He was the storm
She was the sea
And though at first glance the sea seemed quieter and gentler before him
And the storm seemed wilder and more free before he met the sea
The real truth is that the life and strength they found in being together
- A united force of nature -
Was better than anything they’d known before.I think a common misconception about love is that we will find someone who “gets us” completely. Someone we won’t need to explain things to. Someone who “just knows” what we want without asking. Someone who is already everything we need. But sometimes, love is two people committing to understanding what they don’t share. Being willing to be shaped by the difference, not just comforted by sameness. And willing to grow towards each other, be challenged by each other, and get stronger and steadier everyday - together, and as individuals.
If your partner is very different from you, know that contrast isn’t failure. Tension can be an invitation. The right kind of stress can make your muscles grow.
That’s where the beauty of your joined forces can take shape into something lasting and incredible.
