Crying doesn’t come naturally to me when I’m alone, because alone, the prospect of crying is the most terrifying idea.
A completely alone person. Crying.
A horror movie.
A drama.
I don’t want to be either of those things. Not a horror. Not a drama. So, I do neither.
I have never been alone for this long in my life.
I have not been crying because I cannot afford my therapist of 10 years (I fucking love you, Barbara) any longer.
Usually? I cry once a week.
I cry it out in therapy with someone I’m paying to listen to me and bounce thoughts back. That’s when I cry. I’m waiting for a list of in-network therapists. Then I will cry again. With someone.
I share the mental health parts of my life online because I don’t mind being a leader in this aspect. I don’t mind trying to pave the way for normalizing the fact that millions of us are women living touching the spectrum.
I have been sharing my personal trials with mental conditions in my writing for years. That’s it.
Doing so has brought more hate than I could ever imagine.
So. I’m taking a step back on telling you my personal mental health stories because that’s all it’s become, and when my subscription rates went up by 700%, SUBSTACK called me to ask,
“How have you done this growth?”
The same way Ari Emanuel called me after #NOTOKAY and my SNAPCHAT STORIES hitting 3M views a day to say…
”How have you done this growth?”
And here I sit. On the picket line. On strike.
What growth?
My movie, set for a huge sale at SXSW, crashed and burned when SXSW was the first covid cancellation.
I’ve been swept into something that isn’t me anymore.
All I want to do is write essays and make movies that make you believe Diet Pepsi is for murderers.
And if it means my subscriptions don’t go up another 700%, so be it.
Also? The Handyman got back to me.
❤️
I read this column (and subscribe to it) for the same reasons I read your first two books: I like how you write, which is a separate thing from what you write about which honestly is less important. I will be a Kelly Oxford fan, regardless. Also, you’re funny. Also, you’re a fellow Edmontonian. And mostly, because I love your unique and wonderfully observant take on life, whether that’s served up in a column, an essay, a book or a novel. ✌🏻
Oh Kelly! I’m so sorry that this is all happening, it’s a lot.
I loved Pink Skies, I love your writing and I want you to have it all. Please know that us (usually) quiet fans are here supporting you and rooting for you.