Hello dear ones,
Not gonna spend too much time here because this newsletter is a long one. FYI/Reminder: all of my previously recorded webinars are 50% off until tomorrow at 11:59pm PDT. Code: LABORDAY50.
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Healing happens in the most unexpected places.
Three weeks ago, I had a session with my therapist, a brilliant somatic practitioner named Amy, who I’ve been seeing for almost six years now. I came into session sharing that I’d been having really high anxiety over the past few weeks — so high that it reminded me of what life felt like before I started anti-anxiety meds ten years ago. It felt like there were bricks placed on top of my lungs, making deep breaths painful. I was struggling to fall asleep a night. Despite being utterly exhausted, my brain wouldn’t turn off, and I would lie in bed, brain spiralling, unable to keep my eyes open. My body was buzzing 24/7.
During our session, I realized that these symptoms began at the same time that I began my website makeover. Why would something like this prompt such high anxiety, I wondered.
Together, Amy and I explored how this is the most authentic I’ve ever been professionally. For years and years, I’ve been trying to figure out what “professionalism” looks like for me. I’d hired a very talented friend, creative director and brand developer J. Avolio from Liminal States to help me. J came up with a brand package based off of our conversations together, and together with the beautiful photographs of Alexandra Kacha, a new website was born. As beautiful as it was — and J could only work with what I gave them — something didn’t feel quite right.
Two years later, I was able to give myself permission to try again. I wanted a website that was authentically me — not whatever Margeaux x Professional equaled. And what is more authentically me than teenage aesthetics? I’ve been a collager my whole life. I love zine/DIY feels and lowercase letters. And so I reached out to website designer Luca J. Davis to transform my website into my teen dreams.
One of the things that excited me about working with Luca is that they have a lot of experience working with multi-hyphenate humans who do a million different things. I not only wanted an aesthetic re-haul: I wanted to feel like all of the work I do in the world made sense. And wow did Luca really bring their A game!
Trying-to-be-Profesh-Margeaux would never have thought to use this image of a collaged journal cover on the homepage of my website. But Luca did. Understanding my love of chartreuse green — a favorite color of mine because it was also one of my mom’s — they added all of these pops of this very bratty color (one that I would never associate with being a professional human who runs their own business) throughout my website. And these little squiggly lines, like the ones you’d draw in your high school notebooks??? I felt SO SEEN.
But it wasn’t just adult me who was feeling seen. It was teen me. And here’s where we cue our old friend Anxiety once again.
As a teen, I learnt that being my most authentic self = punishment. When I wanted to dye my hair pink, I got a very firm “no,” and the particular face that my father would make when he was angry. Mouth tight, eyes bulging, face turning red. Anything I did something that felt authentically me — dyeing my hair, getting facial piercings — my dad would criticize and judge me, ground me, withhold his love. And still, even when he said no, I dyed my hair pink and put a new piece of metal in my face anyways.
There was so much of myself that I hid away. But I couldn’t sacrifice it all. And so authenticity became tethered to anxiety: “something bad is gonna happen if I’m myself.” And there’s nothing that a teen needs more than knowing that they’ll be supported and loved for being who they are.
So in the weeks leading up to my session with Amy, and the launch of my new website, as my anxiety skyrocketed to pre-anxiety-meds levels, what’s been happening is that teen me has been afraid. Afraid that if I let myself be seen, fully and authentically, by the world, I’ll get in trouble. Launching this new website wasn’t just scary for adult me, but for teen me too. Because I’m really letting myself be seen and celebrated in a way they’re not used to. It’s so wild how literally redoing your website is an opportunity to heal. We find healing in the most unexpected places.
Underneath my anxiety is grief. My mom was the most authentic and unafraid woman. She dyed her hair fire engine red, wore shirts with sequinned Disney villains, bright greens, and insane patterns. When she died, I was just eleven and entering adolescence. I truly believe that had she lived, she would have helped me dye my hair whatever wild color I wanted. I always wonder if my father’s rejection of me wasn’t just rooted in his need to appear like a good single parent. What if my rebellious aesthetics reminded him of my mother?
Amy asks me to imagine my mom looking at my website and I know that she would love it. Then Amy asks me to bring my father in. I imagine that she would’ve comforted any anxiety he had about my appearance. And then I couldn’t help but wonder if that even would’ve been necessary if my mom hadn’t died. My dad was so much freer and more rebellious — in his own ways — with my mom. More grief accumulates.
I wish he could’ve apologized for his conditional love. But he died when I was 31, and I was only just beginning to process how much trauma he’d caused in my life. I wish he could’ve looked at his rebellious child and love their spirit, their drive to be authentic, no matter what other people thought. He can’t offer those words to me, and so I offer them to myself:
Thank you for not erasing all of you.
Thank you for keeping your fierce spirit alive when others wanted to extinguish your flame.
Thank you for staying true to yourself.
I love your aesthetic. Always have. Always will.
You have given me permission to be my most authentic self.
I love you and your pink and blue hair and all of your piercings.
I love your wildness. It is magic. You are magic.
I’m able to do some necessary reparenting work with my inner teen. All because of a website. All because Luca saw me and celebrated my teenage aesthetics — and created something that is both authentically me and looks professional (whatever the fuck that word even means).
Today, I know who I am — and I wouldn’t change myself for the world.
I just need to take a moment to give a special shoutout to Luca J. Davis and let y’all know that you should hire them to do your website. They were so supportive throughout the entire process — never once making me feel like I was being annoying when I asked for yet another tweak or for us to try something new. Luca also has a substack, “I Love Love, Anything is Possible.”
Culture Diary
Last week my partner and I watched Dirty Dancing and I had a good cry during the final dance number. This movie still really holds up in terms of class analysis and being pro-choice.
I decided to put down Elliot Page’s memoir — which I was finding underwhelming — and picked up Geena Rocero’s trans-coming-of-age memoir instead. And I’m so glad I did. Horse Barbie tells the story of Geena’s move from the Phillipines to America, her modelling career, and her eventual coming out.
I’ve been needing a comfort show to watch, and so I’ve decided to do my first rewatch of Dawson’s Creek since I first watched it as an adolescent. Downside: the show is super white. Upside: the soundtrack.
I’m always thinking about memory — and the lack thereof — as a memoir writer, and when my partner shared Dear Memory: Letters on Writing, Silence, and Grief, I immediately picked it up. The poetic writing makes this a book that I need to read during the day when I have more brainpower, which isn’t a bad thing. And I’m loving all of the art that Victoria Chang made (as seen on the book cover.
For another throwback movie, we watched the 1996 film That Thing You Do, this weekend. I just LOVE Ethan Embry and couldn’t believe that he doesn’t have a name in this movie. Literally he’s “the bass player” in the credits.
When I realized that Dear Memory, was not a bedtime read, I picked up Carrie, Carolyn, Coco: My Friend, Her Murder, and an Obsession With the Unthinkable. Immediately couldn’t put it down. For better or worse, I love true crime stories.
I can relate to most of what you shared. I am so thankful I found you. I truly feel seen and it's been an isolating and lonely season. Thank you, I am grateful to be here.
"We find healing in the most unexpected places." ~ This is so so true and it resonated with me not only because I am in the journey currently of reconnecting with my teen self but also because I found a glimmer of healing after today's writer's co-hang. Thank you for writing and sharing with us 💖🌟