A few months ago, Jordan, the founder and Editor-in-Chief of Sapien Magazine (a new, online publication) reached out: “I’m in the process of starting my own magazine” she wrote. “It’s going to be all about exploring what it means to be human, and what it looks beyond the phone and computer screen. Embracing messy homes and burnt attempted recipes. Trying to stray away from all things curated, but still praising the beauty and prettiness in mistakes.”
Jordan asked if I would submit a piece on the theme of comfort for the inaugural issue. Her goal of creating something beautiful and real – something untethered by Pinterest perfection – really resonated with me, so I said yes. Yes to the messes and to the mistakes and to finding beauty in our everyday reality.
So I cleared my schedule, made some coffee, and sat down to write.
Writing, however, is a funny thing. I don’t really consider myself a writer – blogging is inherently different; you simply write about whatever is on your mind at the time – but a writing assignment? Did I, in fact, actually have something to say on the topic of comfort?
My early drafts read like a dreary senior essay, What Comfort Means to Me. Good lord. So I threw it all away, and closed my eyes. “Comfort” I thought. “What comes to mind?” My comfort is my boys, their arms wrapped around my neck, the heaviness of their bodies in my arms. The scent of my husband. His scruffy face on my lips.
Opening my eyes, I started to write. It turns out I did have something to say. And true to form, the writing was a release. An acceptance, of sorts. And I was so honored by Jordan’s words on the piece:
If you haven’t already, be sure to check out the very personal essay written by @shanachristine on our blog last week. In it, she writes about the comfort she- and her young son- found in her body after a life changing event. Her piece is both funny and heartbreaking, and highlights the resilience of survivors everywhere.
If you’d like to read it, my article can be found here.
Hope you are all enjoying your weekend, and, despite recent events, finding comfort.
xo,
S
Oh Shana, that is just beautiful. I’m a bit in awe of your honesty. It’s just a really lovely piece.
Such a sweet piece. Got me a little teary eyed!
Great work. Crying over here, of course. 🙂
Shana, that was so beautiful and you are so brave for working past the “college essay” to such an open piece of writing. It really resonates with me right now as I sit here with hard, uneven tissue expanders in and waiting for my implant swap surgery in a few months. We have a very curious 3 year old and a ten month old. There was lots of talk in our house about Mamó getting new stuffing, drains, bandages but none of that really compared to having to say I can’t lift you for 6 weeks (and won’t be able to again after the next op). I had to hide the first time my little guy crawled after me saying “Mamó!” with his arms up for me to lift him. That’s what hurt- boobs-scmoobs, I just didn’t want to cease being their comfort. I was so happy but so nervous when I was finally allowed lift them. I know these hard lumps aren’t comfy so how would our 3 year old get in just the right spot for story time or would our little baby ever rest his sweet face there to fall asleep again? Well, it takes some arranging but both have happened and the kiddo’s just see me, Mamó, with all my lumps and bumps artificial or otherwise and that is love for them. Knowing that resilience will get me through the next bout of not being able to lift. We had lots of couch cuddles too, but there’s something about having them still little enough to swing around in your arms and have a family cuddle/dance party in the kitchen.
Your writing has a beautiful voice- thank you for that article!
Yvonne, you are right, Shana’s writing has a beautiful voice- as does YOURS. Sending you huge hugs from Boston. HUGE. Hugs.
Tears. Thanks for sharing. <3
Thank you
Beautiful!
Shana – you are an inspiration, in your honesty, your openness, and your cancer fight. Thank you for sharing your story.
absolutely beautiful. thank you.
Love! Thank you!
That’s what most people don’t see with cancer, on the outside we see strength, success or failure or a little bit of both. This was real, thank you for sharing that part of yourself.
you my friend are an amazing writer. you have me in tears.
My three year old finds comfort in the same manner. Still. Two years after weaning. It’s hard to make her stop. I’m not the one with breast cancer, but my brothers wife. Evers finds comfort in boobs period, so we are trying to find ways to gently tell her that she can’t put her hand in her aunt’s shirt anymore all the while battling to get her to find comfort in other ways.
This was a beautiful piece that I definitely related to. Thanks for sharing.
Beautiful. I found your blog randomly and come for the fashion but I read deeper because of posts like these. Thank you for being so open and honest. ❤️
OMG tears. Thank you so much for sharing your life with us.
This is something really very inspirational.
That’s what I was looking for. Very nice blog indeed, thank you admin
Amazing piece of content!
outstanding enjoyment and astonished with this snapchat.then instantly it will enables you to play and utilize the android application on online.