volume sixty-five
craigslist missed connections
hi, lauren deborah! is free for subscribers every week.
feel I am not sharing enough? ask me a question and I will answer it in a future post.
if you want more LD in your life, find me here.
if you would like to say thanks for this love letter, please like or comment (it means so much to me to hear from you 🧡), forward it to a friend who might enjoy it or if you’d like to, you can buy me a slice 🍕
Before I get into today’s volume, I want you to know about a very special friend who is releasing her incredible book (THIS WEEK!): Granny Nancy - Ireland's Oldest Lady Who Lived, Loved and Laughed for 107 Years. Louise Coghlan has poured her love, grief, energy and talent into this book over the last nine months and it is now ready to be shared with us — how lucky are we? You can attend the launch and tour in-person (endless copies of the book can be found hanging off of Lou on the 'Granny Nancy Cup of Tea Book Tour' haha) or virtually (info below) but in the meantime, SAVE THESE LINKS!
🧡 IRELAND & UK Release ONLY - Monday 17th of October
🧡 EUROPE/USA/CANADA/AUSTRALIA/NEW ZEALAND Release - Tuesday 18th October
I took a risk, as I put it to my friend via text, and wore a dress, legs bare, embracing — or perhaps manifesting — the hope that the sun would be strong. Early October is hit or miss. I packed exclusively prepared for chilly mornings and slightly less chilly afternoons, meaning what I packed in my suitcase made no sense whatsoever. When I arrived in town and dropped my bags at my housesit, I stripped off many layers that had become unnecessary in the delicious warmth. At first feeling like a fool for packing those extra jeans, but a winner for getting what felt like a little extension to Summer.
So on this day, I wanted to plan for the same weather pattern. I left the house with bumpy shins, covered in goosebumps I assumed wouldn’t last long. As I walked towards our meeting point, it got hotter than expected, that warm October sun that creeps out mid-morning to evaporate the dampness from the grass and soothe the chill in our toes had arrived, and I was right in my outfit choice. I remembered to wear layers, of course.
So engrossed in the clear blue skies, the annoying fact that I forgot a hat and my thoughts of what I was going to eat today playing between my ears, I overshot my turning point by two blocks. Two island blocks meant adding around fifteen minutes to my walk. A relaxed friend awaited me, thankfully. My mood was that of going with the flow, thankfully.
I then looped and headed back in the right direction, on a new street, a street that I wouldn’t have taken otherwise. Every step was guided by socks and docs: vegan black docs with black socks poking out the top. Every swish of one leg in front of the other, swayed with the crushed fabric of my leopard print dress, frayed at the hem, bold in the print, fitted at the waist and flowing everywhere else, straps on my shoulders, that clung to a plain white tee sitting underneath. Thrown over, what felt like a weighted blanket to protect me whenever I stepped into the shade and felt the temperature drop, was my denim jacket — stone-washed, oversized, and like the dress is, an item collected from a friend who no longer wanted it. I wanted it. And I made it my own. Covered in patches gifted by my Dad and ironed on by Nan, the jacket tells the story of almost every rockstar I have ever loved. Almost. The final touch to my look was my always-present eye protection, and on this day that was in the form of cat eye tortoise shell glory.
Alone, all of these pieces make me feel magnificent and cool as I exit the house. Together they felt mismatched, odd, something chosen by someone who didn’t pack for such a day where they might feel cold and then hot in the span of one outing, even though I did, but I didn’t, okay. But who really cared? They might not have been what I put together as an outfit when I packed, but they meant comfort today. I was off to the farmer’s market to eat my way from one stall to the next and this flowy dress was going to allow that — my one and only priority.
As I paused at the lights and pressed the button to alert the system of my desire to cross, awaiting the little illuminated person to notify me it was my turn, I pulled out my phone to caution my friend to my “overshot the street” blunder. A couple who had been walking behind me approached hand in hand, dressed for “early October, what weather will we get?” in two different ways. One in a turquoise t-shirt and black shorts with sneakers, the other long black trousers, orange and black flannel shirt and also, like their companion, sneakers.
I could just hear their chatter over the traffic that zoomed past the intersection, unable to make out each exact word, but knowing they were having what seemed like a delightful Saturday morning conversation in the sun.
And we waited.
And waited.
And the lights changed again, but only for the cars, and I hit the button again and an elderly woman jaywalked across the street and I contemplated the same but hesitated and it was too late. Was the button broken? The couple watched me press it again, clearly resisting the urge to step over and do it themselves in case I wasn’t doing it properly. I avoided the feeling of stress and squashed it down, I was going with the flow, our turn would come. You can’t be late when you’re relaxing. The traffic stopped at the lights, again, a new set of four-wheeled friends approached, ready and waiting for their turn to accelerate as we remained stuck.
“Your outfit is so cool!” I heard someone yell. Over the traffic, my confusion of the lights and the moment it took me to realise where the voice had come from, a moment had passed that was a fleeting second, that of course felt like an eternity. A moment that by the time I directed my head and eyes towards the person the comment had come from, to see who they were and who they were talking to, their eyes directed at us all at the lights, I went to respond with a “Me?’ and the flannel-wearing person responded “Thank you!” and I ate my words back in my mouth and looked away.
“You look really cool, I just wanted you to know!” the delightful coffee-sipping human said this time. The flannel wearer turned awkwardly away looking at me (but also not looking at me) and said “Oh, yeah she does look very cute”.
I panicked. I didn’t know what to do, I felt guilt, embarrassment, gratitude and shame all at once.
At that moment, a mere seconds from the first welcome compliment, I knew they were talking to me. I knew my outfit was, of the three, the one worthy of this comment (not to outfit shame, please) but I knew, in the fact that I felt both cool and insecure about how it made my body look in this mashup of genres and lack of full-length mirrors before exiting the house, that it was risky enough to warrant a compliment if the right person saw it. I knew that in this town, where I always feel like I fit in even if my outfit isn’t my first choice, I am told I look great. I also knew, though whether they knew I knew or not through my cat-eye glasses that meant my eyes could have been directed anywhere, that they were looking right at me when they doubled down.
However, I didn’t want to embarrass the flannel shirt wearer, as the second comment, from our flannel-wearing friend, about me looking cute was only loud enough for me to hear and not the person in the car. I wanted to let them have this, even though, they knew they didn’t. That combined with my self-consciousness in that moment, meant I had hesitated too long, I couldn’t claim this compliment now, what a fool would do that? What a self-indulgent human would trample another’s claim to take it as their own? And who would do it after such a big pause?
So there we all were, on the corner. Me, filled with gratitude without being able to show it, feeling like a big, rude, jerk for not saying anything. The flannel wearer, feeling embarrassed to have claimed a compliment that was not theirs, looking at their feet. And the coffee sipper compliment giver who took a chance to try and make someone’s day, wound down their window and yelled lovely things, left unappreciated.
The lights changed and they drove off, sipping their coffee in their keep-cup and not looking at us. Then our lights finally changed and I walked so fast, in part to meet my friend that I was now late to, and in part because if I walked fast enough I could outrun the shame and guilt and leave it all at that intersection.
Three humans, exiting that interaction with three different experiences of the same scene. All I could think about was how if only I said “Who, me?” to soften the blow of feeling too self-conscious to immediately accept a compliment, or maybe if I had owned it, loved myself enough in that moment, laughed with the flannel shirt wearer or pretended I didn’t hear them claim it, I could have yelled “Thank you, you are so sweet! Have a great day!”
Instead, I looked like a snobby jerk, perhaps someone who knew their outfit was amazing and didn’t need anyone to tell them. Which was so far from the truth. I needed that compliment in order to shake any doubt I had about putting these mismatched items together, something that often happens when the weather changes for me and I get all confused about who the hell I am below 20 degrees Celcius. I needed that little spring in my step to enjoy my day without worrying about what I looked like. I was unsure of this outfit, it was thrown together randomly out of being the only option for the weather predicted and hoped for and this interaction was meant to happen to remind me of the most important part of my day awaiting me: pastries.
I spent the rest of the day wishing I could see that coffee sipper and thank them, apologise, and tell them to never stop being kind to strangers.
The next day, as I strolled downtown, dressed in the exact same outfit (because — packing lightly and similar weather patterns that were not displayed on the weather app when I packed, thank you) I made my way across a road. I was charging forward to beat the light on the wide road with a quick pace, as were the people coming towards me from the opposite direction. But then someone slowed as they approached me and smiled and told me how much they loved my outfit, waving their arms to highlight it from head to toe. They told me I looked really cute.
I smiled, huge, and as we passed each other I thanked them, turning my body to meet theirs as they ended up behind me, “Thank you! Thank you so much!” I beamed with honest enthusiasm and appreciation.
Two thank yous. Two to doubly show my gratefulness. One for today, one devoted to my coffee sipper.
Hi reader, have you ever been so awkward you have backed yourself into a guilt spiral like this? Have you ever struggled to receive a compliment? Let me know in the comments.
here are three things I struggled with this week:
🌞 It is so cold here in Vancouver already, to me anyway. These bones were grown in the Australian sun and figuring out layers is a constant confusion of mine this time of year, even after eight years.
❤️ Since getting sober, my dreams are so vivid and delightful. Is this the Fall weather creeping into my sexuality or what? Why are all my dreams lately my celebrity crushes falling in love with me? Waking up is a struggle, let’s just say that. Jim Carrey holding my hand is just delightful and my alarm interrupted. Please, no. Also just, I really hold nothing back from y’all, do I? I recall when I used to feel embarrassed talking about my celebrity crushes now I just want you to know Jim is wonderful and intriguing and my dreams take that information and run with it and I am more than okay with you knowing that. In fact, I want you to know this. I really, really do. It helps you get to know me more and honestly? It helps me to get to know myself more. I have created an entire personality around it and it’s divine.
😌 Is it really a struggle if I am okay with it? Travel plans have fallen through but that is life, I have no control over it. It would have been a struggle maybe two years ago, one that would have sent me spiralling but instead I am very calm and just moving forward. It is a nice feeling.
here are three blessings from this week:
🍎 Someone who I will affectionately call “The Apple Man” encouraged us to play and be kids. At the farmer’s market as he had samples and samples sliced of crisp apples from all over the world and told us, repeatedly to “Eat all the tasters!” because children come along and start at one end and eat them all then go back to the start but as adults, we hold back. Thanks to his constant encouragement I tried a lot of apples. It was a good reminder not just for apples but for life.
🍭 I went to meetings on the island and they were filled with wonderful people (of course) and I felt amazing when I left (of course).
🛫 My housesit away, in mostly solitude, was exactly what I needed in so many ways. I have been struggling with the thought of leaving Vancouver, this routine, this life, this stability that is so foreign to me and so welcome in my sobriety as I grow and strip unnecessary layers, However, being away showed me how much I crave travel, new places, new faces, and my own space too. I am so excited to get to sunshine and solo travel (as well as family times, of course) in Australia.
here are three goals for the coming week:
🪣 Book the flights.
📰 My first magazine article was published this week! Baby’s first. What a thrill. (REALISING WHEN PUBLISHING THIS IS A BLESSING NOT A GOAL BUT WE ARE ROLLING WITH IT)
🤩 This coming week I am in Boston and also visiting Salem. Please know that I am fulfilling many inner-child and teen-Lauren dreams and my goal is to cross off my wishlist and soak it all in.
here is something I enjoyed this week:
NOT TO BE DRAMATIC BUT DREAMS CAME TRUE THIS WEEK. My fav podcast ever had me on as a co-host. Ali is a pal and a gem and we became friends via the power of the internet then IRL ones and I am v grateful. She was the first person I ever told about my podcast, and has supported me since day zero.
You can listen to me fangirling and trying not to cry about scary things anywhere you get your podcasts! Please listen! Please let me know what you think! Please feel free to leave a review on their pod (5 starts ofc) and mention my name if you feel like it!
one more note from me:
Did you know that 1 in 5 people experience symptoms of mental illness each year? Every day in Australia, 8 people will die by suicide. Mental illness can be debilitating and can have a devastating impact on not only those living with it, but those around them. This October, I’ll again be taking part in One Foot Forward to show people living with mental illness that they are not alone.
I'm walking to raise funds for the Black Dog Institute to support crucial mental health research and support services to help Australians impacted by mental illness and suicide.
It would mean so much to me if you'd support my walk this October.
Together, we can create a mentally healthier world, for everyone.
If you’re able, you can donate here.
pics or it didn’t happen:
I love you,
LD
xoxo