Speaker 1: Pushkin Heysite Changers. I have exciting news. I've written a book.
Speaker 1: It's called The Other Side of Change, Who we become
Speaker 1: when life makes other plans. It's available for pre order
Speaker 1: now at changewithmya dot com slash book. It's not coming
Speaker 1: out for a while, but preorders make a huge difference.
Speaker 1: They send a powerful signal to booksellers that this book
Speaker 1: matters to you. I would be so grateful for your
Speaker 1: early support. It's truly the thing I'm most proud to
Speaker 1: have created. You can find the link to pre order
Speaker 1: in our episode description. Thanks so much, and now on
Speaker 1: to the show.
Speaker 2: Many times in my life, I've had moments where I'm like.
Speaker 3: Oh, I can't do this for one more second.
Speaker 2: Like whether it's my old marriage or my work life,
Speaker 2: I can fake it for only so long, and then
Speaker 2: I have a moment where I'm like, oh, I'm out
Speaker 2: of here.
Speaker 1: Glennon Doyle is a best selling author and a host
Speaker 1: of the podcast We Can Do Hard Things. Over the years,
Speaker 1: she's learned to pay close attention to those signals that
Speaker 1: something is wrong, and rather than ignore them, she's chosen
Speaker 1: to listen.
Speaker 2: I've wondered for so long why I always feel like
Speaker 2: I need to change my hair, my clothes, everything, And
Speaker 2: it's because the problem is that I am still here.
Speaker 2: Wherever I go there, I am like that is the problem.
Speaker 2: So it really becomes a matter of figuring out how
Speaker 2: to be at peace in my body.
Speaker 1: On today's show, Glennon Doyle is still trying to figure
Speaker 1: out where she belongs. I'm Maya Shunker, a scientist who
Speaker 1: studies human behavior. And this is a slight change of plans,
Speaker 1: a show about who we are and who we become
Speaker 1: in the face of a big change. Who am I really?
Speaker 1: Where do I belong? And how do I figure out
Speaker 1: what I want? These are some of the big, messy
Speaker 1: questions Glennon has been grappling with for years. She's the
Speaker 1: author of the New York Times number one bestsellers Untamed
Speaker 1: and Love Warrior. She's been incredibly open about her struggles
Speaker 1: with addiction, motherhood, and marriage, and in her new book
Speaker 1: We Can Do Hard Things, she shares the wisdom she's
Speaker 1: gained along the way. As we began our conversation, Glennon
Speaker 1: told me that for as long as she can remember,
Speaker 1: she's felt that something was off.
Speaker 2: I felt like there was something deeply wrong with me.
Speaker 2: I did not know exactly what it was. I don't
Speaker 2: think that I would have been able to put it
Speaker 2: into words. I think my only real safe places were reading.
Speaker 2: I read like Ramona Quimby, Yes with Beverly Cleary, and
Speaker 2: I would read the same books over and over again
Speaker 2: because I always wanted to know what happened.
Speaker 3: I didn't want a new experience.
Speaker 2: Life was so unpredictable that I loved the idea of
Speaker 2: I'm entering this world, I know what's going to happen,
Speaker 2: I know how it's going to end.
Speaker 3: I went to school like a normal kid.
Speaker 2: I just I always felt very exposed, like I just
Speaker 2: remember thinking, and I still think this. I think it's
Speaker 2: so weird how we just have to walk around in
Speaker 2: the public and people can just look at us anytime
Speaker 2: they want, Like, that's so.
Speaker 3: Weird and vulnerable.
Speaker 2: I would come home and I felt like I was
Speaker 2: kind of holding my breath all day, just making it
Speaker 2: through social exposure. And then I became really severely Believe me,
Speaker 2: by the time I was ten years old and my
Speaker 2: entire life was bolimia. I couldn't wait until three pm
Speaker 2: because I would get home starting an elementary school, through
Speaker 2: middle school, through high school actually, and then through college,
Speaker 2: and then I would just binge, like it was like
Speaker 2: I was holding my breath all day. I'd get home
Speaker 2: my parents were both teachers, so they wouldn't be home yet,
Speaker 2: and I would just it was like I could finally
Speaker 2: relax or let go, and relaxing or letting go was
Speaker 2: a very private experience of just binging food by myself,
Speaker 2: and then I would throw it all up, and I
Speaker 2: think that moment of being laid out on the bathroom
Speaker 2: floor after getting it all out was what I equated
Speaker 2: as relief finally, And that was my experience life every
Speaker 2: single day.
Speaker 1: What do you think Lennon led you to fear self
Speaker 1: exposure to the extent you did.
Speaker 2: I think that I lived in a household that had
Speaker 2: a lot of love in it and was deeply well intentioned,
Speaker 2: but there was no absolutely no room to be human, zero,
Speaker 2: Like it was extremely rigid. There was a ton of
Speaker 2: control and anxiety that controlled every moment, to the point
Speaker 2: where I very much remember as a child just desperately
Speaker 2: trying to control my facial expression when I looked at
Speaker 2: my parents so I didn't freak anybody out if I
Speaker 2: gave the wrong facial expression, it would set my father off. Okay,
Speaker 2: so I would have told you that I was broken
Speaker 2: and crazy, and I would have had no idea why.
Speaker 1: Yeah, I mean, you're making me reflect back on my
Speaker 1: own childhood, where I was one of very few kids
Speaker 1: of color to be at my school, and even though
Speaker 1: I knew I looked different from all the other kids,
Speaker 1: I saw their cruelty as evidence that I was deeply
Speaker 1: flawed in some way, And so I fully resonate with
Speaker 1: your experience. Now, of course, the behavioral manifestations of it
Speaker 1: were very different for both of us. But you talked
Speaker 1: about feeling relief on the bathroom floor, right, What constituted
Speaker 1: that relief? What were you escaping from or what was
Speaker 1: giving rise to that feeling in your body or your mind?
Speaker 2: Being very small and controlled and disciplined and pretty and
Speaker 2: tiny was extremely important in my family. The binge in
Speaker 2: the purge was almost like an animalistic indulgence of.
Speaker 3: Rage.
Speaker 2: I think bulimia is a way of being like a
Speaker 2: bad girl and a good girl at the same time,
Speaker 2: because you're like, fuck it, I am all the things,
Speaker 2: I am doing this, But then your conditioning is like,
Speaker 2: but I have to stay small, but I can't like
Speaker 2: show any evidence of this rebellion.
Speaker 1: Highly contained rebellion. Yes, yeah, yeah, Wow, that is so interesting.
Speaker 1: Did you ever feel comfortable expressing to them or was
Speaker 1: that wrapped up in the space of stuff that was
Speaker 1: just unacceptable to talk about In the Doyle family.
Speaker 2: I mean, my parents were like most parents in that
Speaker 2: they had so much trauma from their childhoods and they
Speaker 2: were doing so much better than their parents did, and
Speaker 2: their one thing was we want to be good parent
Speaker 2: like you. You could feel it, and everything they said
Speaker 2: or did they all the control that fucked me up
Speaker 2: big time, was like they're desperate to be good parents.
Speaker 2: So I think I always had this feeling that I
Speaker 2: can't break them. I feel very nervous that I'm saying
Speaker 2: these things because it feels like breaking a family rule
Speaker 2: or saying these things would hurt them in a way.
Speaker 2: It does, it does hit them, but it hurts me
Speaker 2: more to not say it, So I'm saying it anyway.
Speaker 2: But I would never have had the language when I
Speaker 2: was little. I just felt like I have to hide
Speaker 2: this thing this. How could I even put into words
Speaker 2: what I do after school in our house? It's so
Speaker 2: it felt so shameful.
Speaker 1: Tell me more, Glennon, about that moment when you go
Speaker 1: to that total stranger at school and you say, like,
Speaker 1: someone needs to take me away. I can't do this,
Speaker 1: I can't be here.
Speaker 2: I think it was my senior year in high school.
Speaker 2: I remember walking into the school cafeteria. I mean, maya,
Speaker 2: I could start Just saying the words makes me start sweating,
Speaker 2: like wow, it just is the ultimate to me Lord
Speaker 2: of the Flyes situation, Like I didn't know where to
Speaker 2: put my body. I didn't know to whom I belonged,
Speaker 2: what table do I sit at? Who wants me at
Speaker 2: their table? Eating in front of people was the most
Speaker 2: vulnerable thing in the world.
Speaker 3: I just couldn't.
Speaker 2: I had a moment where I remember standing with my
Speaker 2: tray and I just walked out of the cafeteria, walked
Speaker 2: straight into a guidance counselor's office who I didn't know,
Speaker 2: sat down and said, I need somebody to take me away.
Speaker 2: I'm not leaving this office until somebody takes me away.
Speaker 2: I have flashes of sitting in the guidance counselor's office,
Speaker 2: and then I have flashes of my parents coming in,
Speaker 2: and then I remember some kerfluffle and that kerfluffle.
Speaker 1: Kerfuffle, whatever that word is. You know what, I like, kerfluffle.
Speaker 1: We're gonna go with that. Yeah, that's great.
Speaker 2: It's a joke in our family that I have always
Speaker 2: read more than I've talked to humans, so I often
Speaker 2: say words wrong because I've read them for so long,
Speaker 2: but not hurt them. So anyway, Then I remember like
Speaker 2: a very cold hallway which was walking into the hospital.
Speaker 3: What was really a mental hospital.
Speaker 2: Now we have so many other options, but for like
Speaker 2: my family's insurance and my situation back then, it was
Speaker 2: really just kind of a mental hospital. I remember sitting
Speaker 2: with whoever was like the intake nurse and my parents
Speaker 2: there and them taking all my stuff, like looking through
Speaker 2: my bags and taking away anything that could hurt me,
Speaker 2: which I bodily remember feeling reallye fat, like finally somebody's
Speaker 2: taking my power to hurt myself away from me, Like
Speaker 2: that's what I wanted.
Speaker 1: Wow, what was it about that moment on that school
Speaker 1: day that led you to go to the school's office.
Speaker 1: I mean there were probably so many other days where
Speaker 1: you felt spare. You've been battling this for years and
Speaker 1: years and years, So what was the catalyst for you
Speaker 1: to say or right, enough is enough.
Speaker 2: I think that that is a gift that I have.
Speaker 2: I think that I break every once in a while,
Speaker 2: and I think that the people in my life who
Speaker 2: never break have harder lives. Like I am a little
Speaker 2: bit like, uh, you know the circuit breakers that like
Speaker 2: if you things start to go out and then you
Speaker 2: can like flip the circuit breaker and stop everything. I
Speaker 2: feel like I'm a bit of a circuit breaker.
Speaker 1: Satisfying, by the way, so satisfying, yeah, small, Plus I
Speaker 1: have no.
Speaker 3: Idea why this works.
Speaker 2: I have no idea how this works, but it's so
Speaker 2: fun that these buttons are gonna work. So I feel
Speaker 2: like I do just break every once in a while.
Speaker 2: I think we live in a world that breaks you, Like,
Speaker 2: I don't think that it's all a personal problem. I
Speaker 2: think that there is stuff happening in our lives and
Speaker 2: culture and country and world and families that should break us.
Speaker 2: And many times in my life I've had moments like
Speaker 2: that in the cafeteria where I'm like, oh, I can't
Speaker 2: do this for one more second, Like whether it's my
Speaker 2: old marriage or my work life, or there's just something
Speaker 2: builds up in me I can fake it for only
Speaker 2: so long, and then I have a moment where I'm like, oh,
Speaker 2: I'm out of here. I won't spend another moment in
Speaker 2: this cafeteria, in this high school, in this marriage, in
Speaker 2: this life, and then just I need help. It's like
Speaker 2: and I need help moment. Yeah, And then that usually
Speaker 2: kind of saves me for a little while, and then
Speaker 2: I get lost again. But I have circuit breaker moments
Speaker 2: which I think keep me from burning the whole house down, right,
Speaker 2: isn't that what.
Speaker 3: Circuit breakers do?
Speaker 1: Yeah? Exactly, you said, I can't do this anymore. That
Speaker 1: was the feeling in high school, and help me understand
Speaker 1: exactly what this was, because it wasn't simply binging and purging, right,
Speaker 1: It was deeper than that.
Speaker 2: All the acting, all the posturing, all the who are
Speaker 2: you going to stand with? In the high school, I
Speaker 2: was extremely self conscious, clearly, and I didn't know to
Speaker 2: whom I belonged. I didn't know where to stand, who
Speaker 2: to stand with, what club I should be, and how
Speaker 2: I should be acting. I could watch some girls laugh
Speaker 2: a certain way, or I just did not know how
Speaker 2: to be, so I felt like I was acting all day.
Speaker 2: It was like being on stage all day and I
Speaker 2: needed to get backstage.
Speaker 1: Tell me about what you learned at the mental hospital
Speaker 1: from being around kids that could no longer act. Almost
Speaker 1: by definition, I will tell you.
Speaker 2: It felt less crazy to me than high school. I
Speaker 2: felt like the same way I feel now when I
Speaker 2: go to my twelve Step meetings, Like I feel like, oh,
Speaker 2: this is where they keep the honest people. Like you know,
Speaker 2: it's hard for me to explain, but there was no bullshit,
Speaker 2: there was no acting. I learned what I wish everybody
Speaker 2: would get to learn, which is like being human, Like,
Speaker 2: can anyone tell me how to feel sad? Like I
Speaker 2: like how we deal with the fact that we have
Speaker 2: these people we love who also hurt us, and that
Speaker 2: we love so much and we're going to lose everybody
Speaker 2: we love, and like any ideas about that? Like that
Speaker 2: is all we did in the hospital. We learned how
Speaker 2: to sit with pain, We learned what it felt like
Speaker 2: to be a being on this planet with other beings,
Speaker 2: and like how trauma works. And we learned strategies to
Speaker 2: process emotion. Even if it was just like painting or dancing,
Speaker 2: we always had to hold each other's hands. Okay, so
Speaker 2: please imagine being a senior in high school, I had
Speaker 2: to go on field trips to art museums with other
Speaker 2: people and just walk around with our little crew of
Speaker 2: crazies and hold hands.
Speaker 3: But Maya, that's my ideal day. Yeah.
Speaker 1: How fascinating is it that someone who was so afraid
Speaker 1: of exposure and rawness actually found her greatest comfort in
Speaker 1: a mental institution in which she was forced to confront
Speaker 1: the deepest, darkest parts of her There's yeah, a deep
Speaker 1: irony there that I'm like still in this moment trying
Speaker 1: to grasp fully because it is wildly unexpected.
Speaker 2: So it's not really exposure. I guess it's just like
Speaker 2: acting like exposures. Okay, if I can just be how
Speaker 2: I am? Yeah, because that was exposure and weird exposure,
Speaker 2: like everyone was staring at us, but I felt like
Speaker 2: so much safer and so much realer.
Speaker 1: So what I'm hearing then is that when you were
Speaker 1: in the mental institution, you were forced to challenge this
Speaker 1: underlying belief that you yourself were broken, because when you
Speaker 1: actually confronted who you were, but without the script, without
Speaker 1: the veneers, without the acting, there was actually an underlying
Speaker 1: comfort there, or at least some relief.
Speaker 2: There is this underlying vibe that we all kind of
Speaker 2: either verbally or nonverbally agree on, which is like, oh,
Speaker 2: they think on the outside that were the broken ones
Speaker 2: in here, but like, actually were the ones who know
Speaker 2: the truth and are telling the truth, and they are
Speaker 2: all acting. So it was something like a feeling of
Speaker 2: a redemptive solidarity of like finding your people and being like,
Speaker 2: that's fine. I don't care if all those people on
Speaker 2: the outside think that I'm broken, because I know if
Speaker 2: I'm broken, this is the kind of brokenness that I want.
Speaker 1: Yeah, And it seems like young Glennon, who thought for
Speaker 1: sure she was broken, really was just saying I feel
Speaker 1: like I'm broken in relation to these other people and
Speaker 1: what their expectations are, what the norms are. But actually
Speaker 1: that whole thing was a farce anyway, So like maybe
Speaker 1: I shouldn't have bought into it in the first place.
Speaker 1: Is that right?
Speaker 3: Yes?
Speaker 2: And I sometimes feel frustrated now because I feel like
Speaker 2: I'm supposed to have some sort of like victory, Like
Speaker 2: i feel like I'm supposed to get to some kind
Speaker 2: of finish line of this story.
Speaker 1: Yeah.
Speaker 2: No, like I'm supposed to have some kind of redemptive moment.
Speaker 2: I keep trying to force redemptive moments every five years
Speaker 2: with a new book. I'm like, I've I'm better, I've
Speaker 2: figured it out. Yeah, and then I go back too.
Speaker 2: But I still feel that way. I still when I'm
Speaker 2: talking to you and I'm thinking out this moment in
Speaker 2: this country, I spend most of my day feeling like,
Speaker 2: get me the fuck off this planet, like I. So
Speaker 2: I still feel that way. I don't trust anyone who
Speaker 2: doesn't feel that way right now.
Speaker 3: That's the thing.
Speaker 2: It's like, is that brokenness or is not being broken
Speaker 2: hearted about the state of things the problem. I wrote
Speaker 2: about that recently and this beautiful stranger wrote back to
Speaker 2: me and said, it's okay, You're just like a humpback whale.
Speaker 2: Humpback whales get like one song that they have to
Speaker 2: sing their entire life. They just sing that one song
Speaker 2: in the same tone over and over again.
Speaker 3: So you're just a whale. I was like, I'll take it.
Speaker 1: I think this question of when we feel truly comfortable
Speaker 1: is just one of the most relatable questions. It's a
Speaker 1: simple question and it's a super hard thing to answer.
Speaker 1: So I get why that's the song of your whaledom,
Speaker 1: because I think that's like a very very see I
Speaker 1: made of a word too, whaled them. I think that's
Speaker 1: like one of the most primal questions that we ask
Speaker 1: as humans, because all we're trying to do is like
Speaker 1: fit in and belong. So of course that question we'll
Speaker 1: get a front row seat all the time.
Speaker 2: Yeah, you know, I've wondered for so long why I'm
Speaker 2: I always feel like I need to move? Why I
Speaker 2: always feel like I need to change my hair, my clothes,
Speaker 2: everything just And it's because you know, about five years ago,
Speaker 2: after twenty moves, I realized, Oh, the problem is that
Speaker 2: I am still here. Yeah, wherever I go there I
Speaker 2: am like, that is the problem. So it really becomes
Speaker 2: a matter of figuring out how to be at peace
Speaker 2: in my body.
Speaker 3: That's like the place I always am.
Speaker 1: Tragically, we'll be back in a moment with a slight
Speaker 1: change of plans. If there's one place where Glennon Doyle
Speaker 1: has felt fully free to be herself, it's on the page.
Speaker 1: She's the author of three best selling memoirs that chronicle
Speaker 1: her journey through addiction, the unraveling of her first marriage,
Speaker 1: and ultimately the choice to leave her husband to be
Speaker 1: with the woman she loves.
Speaker 3: When did you.
Speaker 1: First figure out that you could find a comfortable space
Speaker 1: through words? Through writing?
Speaker 2: I love that question. Okay, I don't think I knew it.
Speaker 2: For a long time through writing, I knew that my
Speaker 2: only comfortable place was reading. I am able to take
Speaker 2: anything to an extreme, So I actually reading for a
Speaker 2: lot of people is like their goal, like they should
Speaker 2: read more. But for me, I have to watch it
Speaker 2: because that is also where I go to just not
Speaker 2: be in this world. So my family needs me to
Speaker 2: not be reading as much as I was. This this
Speaker 2: has been made clear to me. Okay, so that's fine.
Speaker 2: Staying present and not in a book is necessary. I
Speaker 2: don't know the actual answer to that question. I may
Speaker 2: have found it earlier if I wasn't so gone. I
Speaker 2: was very gone to my addiction until I got pregnant
Speaker 2: with my son when I was twenty five.
Speaker 1: And do you mind just sharing the addiction for those
Speaker 1: who don't know. Oh?
Speaker 2: Yes, I mean so it clearly started when I was
Speaker 2: young with food and binging and purging. In high school
Speaker 2: I found alcohol, and then in college I found drugs,
Speaker 2: and so I just did what addicts do. I just
Speaker 2: kept upping the anti. I couldn't use my food strategy
Speaker 2: publicly like that is a tricky thing about an eating disorder,
Speaker 2: especially bulimia. It's something that can bring comfort privately. But
Speaker 2: I needed something to make me feel comfortable and gone
Speaker 2: when I was in public situations, which alcohol was just
Speaker 2: amazing for. So I became a real severe alcoholic. I
Speaker 2: drank every single day of my life from the time
Speaker 2: I was seventeen until I found out I was pregnant
Speaker 2: when I was twenty five. So, then I found out
Speaker 2: I was pregnant, I was twenty five years old, and
Speaker 2: I had a cafeteria moment. I just was like, oh,
Speaker 2: I'm going to die. I had a real knowing that, like.
Speaker 3: This is it.
Speaker 2: I just had barely any life left in me. So
Speaker 2: I and one day that day I just quit. I
Speaker 2: was in a pack of day. I was drinking every day,
Speaker 2: I was using cocaine and all the drugs, and I
Speaker 2: was still binging and purging every single day.
Speaker 3: And I quit all of it in one day. That
Speaker 3: was a good time. Wow, I don't know how Yeah, that.
Speaker 2: Kid who I was pregnant with is now graduating from college,
Speaker 2: and I have struggled so much with my kids leaving.
Speaker 2: I thought I was going to be awesome about it,
Speaker 2: and I haven't done very well with the transition. And
Speaker 2: I think it's because I didn't know how to be
Speaker 2: a human being. I just became a mom. I was like,
Speaker 2: I think this kid's going to be cool. I think
Speaker 2: he's going to love me. So I'm just going to
Speaker 2: create a personality that is Chase's mom. And when that's over,
Speaker 2: I'm like, I don't know what I am now.
Speaker 1: I love that you said that, because the central thesis
Speaker 1: of my book is that the reason why change can
Speaker 1: be so harrowing is that it's a threat to our
Speaker 1: self identity, adopting new identities in our new environments, and
Speaker 1: then suddenly a change happens that strips you of that
Speaker 1: identity that you didn't even know you were so tethered to.
Speaker 1: And then all of a sudden you're like, well, then
Speaker 1: what I am I now? Because this whole time I've
Speaker 1: been mom Glenn, and no, I'm supposed to be human
Speaker 1: glennin anyway that's a cyber Oh my god, you just
Speaker 1: spoke to my heart. That's exactly my core thesis about
Speaker 1: why change screws us over In a really big way
Speaker 1: and desorients us to the degree it does.
Speaker 2: Before we move on from that, can I ask you
Speaker 2: one more question, because, okay, so this is what I
Speaker 2: can't stop thinking about, which you've probably already figured out.
Speaker 2: It's not just the change, but it's belonging. This is
Speaker 2: what I have figured out as someone who has spent
Speaker 2: my entire life trying to find something to belong to,
Speaker 2: trying to find some group of people who I feel
Speaker 2: fully comfortable with, the only place that I have ever
Speaker 2: felt fully known, fully needed, fully loved is this little
Speaker 2: group of people. And now they're all leaving. It's like,
Speaker 2: what do I do now? To whom do I belong now?
Speaker 2: It's like, that's the question again?
Speaker 1: Yes, okay, so I have thought about this a lot,
Speaker 1: and let me share with you what's helped me build
Speaker 1: a more resilient identity during these tough moments of change. So,
Speaker 1: rather than attaching your identity to specific pursuits like being
Speaker 1: a mom or a writer or a podcaster, it can
Speaker 1: be better to anchor your identity to the underlying features
Speaker 1: of those pursuits that really make you light up, that
Speaker 1: really make you tick. It's like a can I anchor
Speaker 1: my value and my worth and my sense of self
Speaker 1: not to what I do, but why I do it,
Speaker 1: because that is the part of us that nothing in
Speaker 1: the universe can touch, like it's well protected forever. And
Speaker 1: then it helps guide you in your next pursuit. Because now, Glennon,
Speaker 1: you're thinking, okay, empty nesting has been like a running
Speaker 1: into a freight train. Right. My heart is broken to pieces.
Speaker 1: I don't even know who I am anymore. It's like, well,
Speaker 1: now I know belonging is the number one thing that
Speaker 1: I was getting from motherhood. I have to really prioritize
Speaker 1: that when it comes to my next thing, my next pursuit,
Speaker 1: there has to be this like crazy feeling of belonging.
Speaker 1: Otherwise I'm not feeling that same need. So for me,
Speaker 1: it's been a bit of a north star too, when
Speaker 1: I face these inflection points.
Speaker 3: That's really fucking good. That's so good. I hope that's
Speaker 3: in your book. Is that in your book? Yeah, it's
Speaker 3: a couple of things. It's not you need to stop
Speaker 3: the press.
Speaker 1: So you are if we pass forward to this moment
Speaker 1: in time, a mother of three, you're married to your husband,
Speaker 1: you start writing these emails to your friends where you
Speaker 1: found this safe space where you're like, I feel like
Speaker 1: I can be myself through these words. Tell me when
Speaker 1: there was a moment where you felt safety in these
Speaker 1: vulnerable words that you're putting out there.
Speaker 2: Well, I remember being home with three little ones. I
Speaker 2: do remember feeling quite isolated. I remember thinking, how is
Speaker 2: it possible that this always feels like way too much
Speaker 2: and not enough at the same time. I remember that
Speaker 2: feeling very deeply. My sister was my person, she still is.
Speaker 2: She brought me a computer and she said, you are
Speaker 2: going to write, because that's what you're meant to do.
Speaker 3: So I do what my sister says.
Speaker 2: Man, she's the one who's always known me the best,
Speaker 2: and I started writing. It's like, in writing, it feels
Speaker 2: like I can use a voice that I can't.
Speaker 3: Use out there.
Speaker 2: It feels like I can use the same voice that
Speaker 2: I use in my twelve step meetings in the hospital,
Speaker 2: just a very like raw. I mean, people say no filter,
Speaker 2: but that's true. Like that's when you're out in the
Speaker 2: world and someone says, how are you, No one really
Speaker 2: wants to hear the answer, right, yeah, yeah, yeah. And
Speaker 2: I think I learned that from my family, like my dad,
Speaker 2: who I describe to you who is kind of has
Speaker 2: a rigidity and an anxiety that makes it hard to
Speaker 2: communicate in person. He always wrote me the most beautiful letters.
Speaker 2: It still does.
Speaker 1: Oh.
Speaker 2: Interesting, that's how we communicate it. We say things in
Speaker 2: letters that never in a million years would we say
Speaker 2: in person.
Speaker 1: Do you think in part it's because so as someone
Speaker 1: who is hyper conscious about even their facial expressions, right,
Speaker 1: who's presumably really hypervigilant, is picking up on the emotional
Speaker 1: states of everyone around them, and are they approving of
Speaker 1: what I'm saying or not? Do you think it's because
Speaker 1: in writing, you just do not collect immediate feedback from
Speaker 1: other people. So you're just like staring the words in
Speaker 1: the face and you're just like, are these true or not?
Speaker 2: Yes, I've never exactly thought about it like that, But
Speaker 2: when you said that, I thought of something am Lamott
Speaker 2: said was the great thing about writing They can't boo
Speaker 2: you right away.
Speaker 3: Yeah, there you go, some version of that. Yeah.
Speaker 2: Maybe maybe all I had to decide was is this
Speaker 2: true or not?
Speaker 1: Not?
Speaker 3: Like what does everyone see or think about this?
Speaker 1: And it's funny because so Anne LaMotte focuses on the booing,
Speaker 1: but it's almost just as pernicious to get the cheers
Speaker 1: right away too, just as it's like, oh, I guess
Speaker 1: they like this. Okay, more of this, Glennon, even if
Speaker 1: it doesn't feel faithful.
Speaker 3: That is absolutely true.
Speaker 2: The approval is as every bit is controllinglutely disapproval.
Speaker 3: It's attachment theory through writing.
Speaker 2: Yes, we do more of what makes people happy, we
Speaker 2: do less of what makes people sad. So not seeing
Speaker 2: facial expressions is probably a very big part of being
Speaker 2: authentic for me.
Speaker 1: When it went from just emails to friends to this
Speaker 1: big blog to like, oh my god, now I have
Speaker 1: this massive audience. How did you retain that authenticity now
Speaker 1: that in your head you're thinking when you're writing, there's
Speaker 1: a consciousness like, oh my god, millions of people are
Speaker 1: going to read this, or I'm getting comments, I'm getting
Speaker 1: reader comments about what they're liking or not liking. How
Speaker 1: did you, if it all, block that out or did
Speaker 1: you just never feel burdened by it?
Speaker 2: No, I didn't block it out, and it did affect me,
Speaker 2: and it does affect me, and I've never learned to
Speaker 2: block it out. I don't think I have ever written
Speaker 2: anything except for the beginning when I wasn't also thinking
Speaker 2: how would this paragraph be better or land more or
Speaker 2: be received in a way where it's a real mic
Speaker 2: drop or I'm always thinking that. I mean, it makes
Speaker 2: me really sad, actually, like it freaks me out to
Speaker 2: even say this, because I'm like, wait, but what is real?
Speaker 3: Then? I think?
Speaker 2: I think painting, for me is the realist thing that
Speaker 2: I do right now. I paint all the time, and
Speaker 2: I'm awful at it. I'm not saying this in a
Speaker 2: self deprecating way, like it's really bad. It's not anything
Speaker 2: that anyone would ever want, and so that protects it.
Speaker 2: You can't turn it into a commodity. But I feel
Speaker 2: that feeling of it doesn't matter, and I'm not doing
Speaker 2: this for anyone, and it's just about what I'm putting
Speaker 2: into it and not about what people are going to
Speaker 2: say in that moment, more than I do in writing.
Speaker 1: Now, what I'm hearing you say is I, Glennon, have
Speaker 1: a desperate need for realness, and at some point writing
Speaker 1: was no longer the medium through which I could achieve that,
Speaker 1: and so I found an outlet through painting. Yeah that's beautiful.
Speaker 2: Yeah, I mean it makes me want to fix it
Speaker 2: about writing I don't know, because I'm still thinking about
Speaker 2: what people are going to feel.
Speaker 1: If you were to imagine reclaiming some of that authenticity
Speaker 1: down the road, what would it look like?
Speaker 2: Okay, because I've thought about this at nauseum, I'll tell
Speaker 2: you I think all the time about Emily Dickinson. Okay,
Speaker 2: I'm not saying that's the right way to go is
Speaker 2: to like hide all your writing away in a drawer
Speaker 2: and never put it out there.
Speaker 3: But it's so badass. She was just doing it for herself.
Speaker 2: I mean, she kind of arranged them so after she
Speaker 2: was dead, she would like she was like and then
Speaker 2: first this and then I mean it feels like maybe
Speaker 2: she she was.
Speaker 1: A little more like us than she le Okay.
Speaker 2: I think so, you know, I think about what is
Speaker 2: the version of that. It's like writing a poem and
Speaker 2: then burning it.
Speaker 3: Yeah, but that's not good either.
Speaker 2: I'm not saying that's like the right thing to do,
Speaker 2: but that's the only way I would ever not was
Speaker 2: for myself.
Speaker 1: It's the equivalent of like if a tree falls in
Speaker 1: a force and no one was there to hear it
Speaker 1: did to make a sound. It's if I wrote something
Speaker 1: and no one read it. Was it even written? Did
Speaker 1: it even matter? Was I just wasting my time? Because
Speaker 1: we're so utility focused in terms of like push stuff out,
Speaker 1: push stuff out, get it out there, we forget about
Speaker 1: intrinsic motivators and like the intrinsic value of creating art.
Speaker 2: That's it, that's my That's like the only test where
Speaker 2: I would know that I was being.
Speaker 3: That.
Speaker 2: I wasn't like capitalizing, because art is really just like
Speaker 2: getting it out, getting something out for no other reason
Speaker 2: than getting it out. I do think that that is
Speaker 2: the most pure version of who I would am, or
Speaker 2: would want to be, or was meant to be, is
Speaker 2: just making something and then putting it away and never
Speaker 2: using it, using it, using it.
Speaker 1: Yeah, I want to jump to twenty sixteen. You're in
Speaker 1: your forties, you have the successful blog, you're a best
Speaker 1: selling author, you're still with your husband at the time, Craig,
Speaker 1: and then you end up meeting Abby soccer player, two
Speaker 1: time Olympic gold medalists. So like, to all of us
Speaker 1: it's like have you want back, oh my gosh, athlete,
Speaker 1: and to you it was like love of your life.
Speaker 1: So can you just for all the hopeless romantics out there,
Speaker 1: just first tell me about that initial interaction with Avi.
Speaker 2: Oh my god, oh god, my h okay, all right,
Speaker 2: So first you have to know that I was doing
Speaker 2: my first event for Love Warrior, which was a book
Speaker 2: about the redemption of my.
Speaker 3: Marriage to your husband, and.
Speaker 2: My marriage was just I was like forcing it, man,
Speaker 2: I was really forcing it for a lot of reasons.
Speaker 2: It doesn't matter. But I was at the first event.
Speaker 2: Abby walked into the room. I was at a table
Speaker 2: full of writers. Abby stands in the door. I've never
Speaker 2: kissed a girl before. I've never I didn't I wouldn't
Speaker 2: have known queerness to I was a Christian writer with
Speaker 2: three children. I was a Sunday school teacher in one
Speaker 2: of the most conservative counties in Florida.
Speaker 3: This was my life.
Speaker 2: And I saw Abby, and the next thing I knew,
Speaker 2: I was standing up at the table with my arms
Speaker 2: wide open.
Speaker 3: I actually bowed.
Speaker 2: I bowed, hoping like maybe people think I'm just weird
Speaker 2: and I do bows.
Speaker 3: People walk in the room.
Speaker 2: So it's a family joke for us now, like when
Speaker 2: someone walks into a room, my son will bow. Anyway,
Speaker 2: I love it now because I was like, Oh, my
Speaker 2: body knew. My body knew that something really important was
Speaker 2: happening before my mind did, which for me maybe that
Speaker 2: was the first time that had ever happened that I
Speaker 2: had trusted a bodily reaction. We had a couple exchanges
Speaker 2: that night. It was at a librarian's convention. She had
Speaker 2: just gotten sober, she had just retired, she was having
Speaker 2: a big change which was causing a major identity crisis.
Speaker 2: We started emailing after that day, which was interesting because
Speaker 2: we fell in love through writing where it could be
Speaker 2: my actual real self.
Speaker 1: Wow, oh how interesting. Yeah, so she got to know
Speaker 1: the real you.
Speaker 3: Yes.
Speaker 2: We had been emailing for maybe two months, and then
Speaker 2: I or a month maybe it was a month I
Speaker 2: realized I was in love with her. I also realized
Speaker 2: that it was never going to work, Like it was
Speaker 2: never going we were never going to have a future.
Speaker 2: I mean, I was who I was in my life
Speaker 2: with three children with it. But I definitively remember talking
Speaker 2: to a dear friend and saying, it doesn't matter whether
Speaker 2: it works, because now I know that this thing is real,
Speaker 2: Like I know that what I have is not this,
Speaker 2: Like now I know what the misery is about, because
Speaker 2: there is a real thing that people feel, and I'm
Speaker 2: feeling it, so it doesn't matter if this works out,
Speaker 2: I can't go back to that. So I ended my marriage.
Speaker 2: We had never seen each other in person, We had
Speaker 2: never had a moment in person. That first night when
Speaker 2: we met, we just were kind of like, woo, what
Speaker 2: is this?
Speaker 3: Yeah, So I.
Speaker 2: Told Craig I was leaving him. This is all before
Speaker 2: we ever kissed or touched or saw each other again.
Speaker 2: After that night, I talked to my kids about it,
Speaker 2: said the marriage was over. It was the most brutal
Speaker 2: day of my life telling them that, And then I
Speaker 2: flew to La to see if what all of these
Speaker 2: were correct, to test it all out.
Speaker 1: And which is not the normal order of operations.
Speaker 3: It's just for the record. Yeah, no, no, it wasn't.
Speaker 2: But it was like another cafeteria moment, right. It's like
Speaker 2: sometimes in order to know not this, you have to
Speaker 2: have some experience of yes, this inside your body, like
Speaker 2: you don't blow something up even if it's hurting you
Speaker 2: sometimes until there's hope. That's why when people ask me
Speaker 2: the really honest question of like, well, that was brave
Speaker 2: that you did that, But do you think you ever
Speaker 2: would have left had there been no Abby? I don't
Speaker 2: have an honest answer to that question, I don't know,
Speaker 2: Like maybe I just would have kept kind of suffering silently,
Speaker 2: and or maybe the thing would have grown in me
Speaker 2: enough to not be able to take it anymore. But
Speaker 2: I don't know that that's true.
Speaker 3: I don't know.
Speaker 1: You know, as I reflect on our conversation, glennon one
Speaker 1: thing that's so beautiful to me about your story when
Speaker 1: it comes to feeling comfortable and at peace with yourself
Speaker 1: and at home and your body. You're a constant work
Speaker 1: in progress, right, I mean, you found these pockets of
Speaker 1: life right like writing and with Abby where you've just
Speaker 1: sparkled and it's like, yay, okay, great, I got the
Speaker 1: finish line. But then a new thing hits you and
Speaker 1: it humbles you again, Like recently you've talked about getting
Speaker 1: an anorexia diagnosis, and so how are you learning to
Speaker 1: make peace with the fact that there likely won't be
Speaker 1: that final redemption story. Do you have any advice for
Speaker 1: listeners who feel the same way.
Speaker 2: Well, I think some of us are just humped back
Speaker 2: whales maya. I think that some of us are just
Speaker 2: born with one thing that is just a big question
Speaker 2: that we just spiral around it over and over again,
Speaker 2: and I think it's a spyling. But I do feel
Speaker 2: like an ascension with the spiraling. I think I'm getting
Speaker 2: better views each time. I think I'm learning new things
Speaker 2: each time. I think having a singular story it's kind
Speaker 2: of interesting because if you're singing a certain song, then
Speaker 2: that's how you find the other people who are also
Speaker 2: singing that song.
Speaker 3: That kind of draws them to you.
Speaker 2: But I have just figured that out just this time,
Speaker 2: that I'm never going to figure it out.
Speaker 3: So that's freeing.
Speaker 1: That's great progress.
Speaker 3: I know.
Speaker 1: I love it. Victory laugh. Hey, thanks so much for listening,
Speaker 1: and just a reminder, you can pre order my new book,
Speaker 1: The Other Side of Change at the link in our
Speaker 1: episode description or a change with my com slash book
Speaker 1: and enjoin me next time when we explore what happens
Speaker 1: when two people live through the same traumatic event but
Speaker 1: have wildly different responses. We'll hear from world renowned climber
Speaker 1: Beth Rawdon, who is kidnapped and held hostage with her
Speaker 1: partner Tommy Caldwell on a climbing expedition in Kyrgyzstan. Tommy
Speaker 1: and I never talked about Kurrysion. We never talked about
Speaker 1: my nightmares, my paranoia, my fear. That's next time on
Speaker 1: A Slight Change of Plans. I'll see you then. A
Speaker 1: Slight Change of Plans is created, written, and executive produced
Speaker 1: by me Maya Schunker. The Slight Change family includes our
Speaker 1: showrunner Tyler Green, our senior editor Kate Parkinson Morgan, our
Speaker 1: producers Britney Cronin and Megan Lubin, and our sound engineer
Speaker 1: Erica Huang. Louis Scara wrote our delightful theme song, and
Speaker 1: Ginger Smith helped arrange the vocals. A Slight Change of
Speaker 1: Plans is a production of Pushkin Industries, so big thanks
Speaker 1: to everyone there, and of course a very special thanks
Speaker 1: to Jimmy Leef. You can follow a Slight Change of
Speaker 1: Plans on Instagram at doctor Maya Schunker. See you next week.