A Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day
September 9, 2021
I’ve been blown away by the caring responses to my last few newsletters surrounding Hurricane Ida. Sincerely, thank you. I’m happy to report that my family and I are safely back home in New Orleans.*
In addition to the memes and TLC y’all sent, many of you shared regret and disappointment that you weren’t able to attend the Joy Infusion last Tuesday.
Whether a natural disaster, fussy baby, or work meeting (rudely scheduled in the middle of a work day!) prevented you from attending, I get it. This moment is a lot to navigate, and logistics can be hellish. I’m in your corner, my loves, and it’s not too late to join in!
I’m hosting another free Joy Infusion:
September 22, 12-1pm CT.
To the 100+ of you who attended last week’s event, thanks for coming! Here’s how some of y’all described our time together:
Upbeat, exciting, refreshing, and relaxing – like being with a group of great friends
Just the right combination of optimism with reality
Exactly what was needed
At our next Joy Infusion, you can expect a similar playful vibe, plus fresh new content.
Behind the scenes, preparations for the last Joy Infusion were both hilarious and a bit like the children’s book Alexander and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day – extended over 5 days.
That Saturday, as I drove 10 hours to evacuate (a trip that usually takes 4.5 hours), I changed every aspect of the agenda in my head so that our time together would help us meet the moment. I crafted an absurd poll question.
On Sunday, once we’d “settled in” at our new home for the week, I secured a meeting room at a nearby hotel for the event. I didn’t want to host in a small condo where my toddler, husband, mother, sister-in-law, and sister-in-law’s dog were also staying. I also bought a fantastic sparkly backdrop!
Tuesday morning on the day of the Joy Infusion, diagonal, near-whiteout rain and building-shaking thunder led to a flash flood watch. Still, I made it to the hotel, carefully avoiding a Marilyn Monroe dress moment in gale force winds.
Forty-five minutes before our event was scheduled to start, the hotel’s fire alarm went off, and we had to evacuate the building. I found myself stifling laughter as we raced down the stairwell. Seriously? This is some Final Destination shit.
I made it back to the condo, got set up, and had about 5 minutes to catch my breath before going live.
Seconds before the event started, I snuck in a quick hello with my best friend who’d been in the Zoom waiting room. It was the first time we’d seen one another since we’d both evacuated. I promptly burst into tears.
(For the proverbial cherry on top, it was also the first day of my period.)
Let the show begin!
I gotta tell y’all, that session got real real.
Presenting in the midst of a global pandemic, having evacuated from both my hometown and a random Marriott, while my community reckoned with the effects of climate change, moments after a flash flood watch … was a lot. At least once, I teared up and had to collect myself. I lost the thread of what I was saying. I tried to accept it, to remind myself that’s ok. It’s to be expected under the circumstances.
From the audience feedback, folks who attended had a great time. Y’all offered me grace, and I held space for both the joy and the hardship.
We talked about the complexity of this moment. I shared perspective that was supportive to me during Katrina and strategies that’d been supportive to my clients and me this last year.
We did a hilarious Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day-themed MadLibs activity (shared below!) and laughed A LOT.
We giggled at how my son, seeing the beach for the first time the day before, yelled “my sandbox!” and threw his arms in the air.
Even in the moments of greatest suffering – which 2021 has really offered us ample opportunity to explore – we can find moments of delight.
As always, I’m grateful to be on this journey with you.
Donation Suggestions
*As New Orleans continues its recovery, much of south Louisiana remains without power, clean water, or cell service. Here are three organizations that would benefit from your support:
“As a Black-led, social justice philanthropic organization founded in the wake of huricane Katrina, Foundation for Louisiana realizes that disasters have outsized effects on marginalized communities.” Having personally worked with the organization and members of their team over the years, I can attest to their phenomenal efforts in building a more just and equitable future in our state. You can donate here.
The next two organizations don’t have websites and are smaller. I’ve learned about them through people on the ground and dear ones who are from the region.
The Bayou Fund supports the Helio Foundation, which is led by the people of Terrebonne Parish, an area that was extremely hard hit. It offers mutual aid and has been handing out $400 cash payments, ice, water, and gas to people in our bayou communities who have lost their homes. You can donate here.
My bestie Wendy Dolan is from Houma, LA, another area that was extremely hard hit. She’s providing matching funds to the Bless Your Heart Foundation, which directly supports people in Houma, Thibodaux, and the surrounding region. You can donate here.
We cleaned out my Granny’s fridge, and it was…potent. Blissfully, I keep peppermint essential oil on me at all times, and Granny and I have the same size hands.
Unicorn bow courtesy of @nolacraftculture, which I wore as a personal delight on a weird day.