First, a little housekeeping: I have finally figured out how to enable subscriber preferences on Mail Chimp! Currently the default mode is that everyone on my mailing list gets everything I ever send out, which means both “newsletter” type things AND my very occasional blog posts. Click HERE and select which topics you’re interested in (it will look like you are signing up again but don’t worry, it will only update your preferences. Duplicate subscriptions are not possible unless you use a different email address). Also, some of your may be thinking “hey, didn’t I sign up for this on Substack?” Yes, possibly, but I don’t post there because they have a Nazi problem. So MailChimp it is, until my subscriber list grows large enough to need more intricate management!
Second: The Wilderness of Girls turned 1 year old yesterday! To celebrate, I am giving away three signed copies of the brand new paperback edition of TWoG (out July 1, 2025!), along with SWAG: stickers, bookmarks, and some limited edition Happy Valley bandanas from the pre-order campaign that my publisher recently unearthed. This giveaway is INTERNATIONAL, so please share far and wide! Details on how to enter can be found HERE. Unfortunately I do not have the bandwidth to track on multiple platforms, so you must be on Instagram to enter.
Third: I know the world is on fire. I am not ignoring it, but I am not making myself a person you should look to for guidance on this. It is all I can do to get myself through the daily news cycle without dissolving into a puddle of despondency. I hope you can understand that and take this post for what it is.
Onto The Good Stuff
When I was a child, I discovered I had a love of exploring new-to-me places. I think it started with the deck my father built at the back of the house, high enough off the ground that a (limber) person can crawl around beneath it and explore the withered remains of leaves and pill bugs with their medium sized dog. Or maybe it was when our attic was finished and the sloping corners transformed behind new plasterboard into a warm, dry crawlspace for me to explore (and hide all my secrets in). That love of hidden places later drove me to the forest, or what passed for forest in our village. My friends and I would wander up and down narrow pathways among the trees in the bits of land on either side of Ellicott Creek, which runs through the Village of Williamsville. We discovered trees we were sure were possessed by spirits; dead trees with wide boughs we could climb into and relax on, like a nature-made treehouse; trees that seemed to guard the shadowed paths that led deeper into the forest, walled in by invasive bamboo and stinging nettles. Once, we found a little abandoned hut of some kind. To this day I’m not sure what it was used for originally, but it was about six feet by six feet, and scarcely tall enough to stand in. We broke in through the already broken window and found it empty except for crumbling stones. When I was older (and knew better but did dumb things anyway), we let the woods take us to the semi-abandoned nunnery that had once owned the land we loved so much, and we slithered into the basement on our bellies through a narrow open grate. We found the skeletal remains of old beds stacked to the ceiling; boxes full of crucifixes; several rings of large, iron keys. We used the elevator, like stupid teenagers, and nearly got stuck between two floors.
When I was 18, I made the impulsive decision to book my first trip over the Atlantic Ocean to see my new (at that time) favorite book series, His Dark Materials, premier at the National Theatre in London. When I came back, I suddenly realized I had free will and could travel wherever I wanted (bank account permitting). Over the next couple of years I traveled all over the country on shoestring budgets, with friends, family, and anyone who would join me. Each new destination seem to light something up inside of me, revealing parts of myself that I never knew existed: I am a calm traveler; I make friends quickly; I adapt well to unexpected changes to the itinerary (undiagnosed autism not withstanding); I think fast on my feet; I enjoy dancing; and for a while, I was able to drink a lot (a lot) of whiskey without getting a hangover for some reason.
At 22, I volunteered to do environmental conservation work in Costa Rica, which was really a privileged kid’s eco-vacation dressed up in a college credit and “doing good.” I hiked in the rainforest of a small, remote peninsula and analyzed monkey poop. At night, my companions and I danced barefoot in our pajamas at a bar a half mile down the beach. We ate fresh mangos on volcanic rocks jutting out of the sea, swam with tropical fishes, and hiked until our legs gave out. I got salmonella poisoning and lived off pedialyte and bananas for three days (another girl who had the same but more extreme symptoms was hospitalized, this is how we got a diagnosis). My favorite memory from that trip was Winky the one-eyed boat driver taking us out onto the Pacific in a raging thunderstorm in a dinky little motor boat. Lightning struck about 50 yards ahead of our boat, and dolphins were actively trying to guide us back to shore. There was no reason we were out on that boat—I thought it was just for fun, but someone clarified later that Winky was intentionally trying to scare us (side note: further evidence of the ’tism). It backfired on me, anyway. Maybe it was sheer ignorance on display, but I had never felt more alive (until later in the trip when I helped someone through a grand mal seizure, then spent the rest of the night shaking off the stress hormones at a salsa club while the rest of the group brought me shots of guaro. Pura vida, amirite?)
When I was 22-going-on-23, (yes, still in undergrad because of reasons) I did a semester abroad in Oxford, England. It was spur-of-the-moment: I broke up with a toxic boyfriend and applied for the study abroad program a week later in December 2008, then left mid January 2009. I did a lot of stupid, hilarious, exciting stuff while I was there, things that US-Maddie might have never done. I also walked into the city every day and attempted to get lost down the winding, ancient, cobblestone streets; I wrote half a novel in a little cafe off the high street, by hand, in a leather journal my best friend had given me as a going away present; I took a bus north to to get another tattoo (it’s not very good). I also traveled when I could: I had champagne picnics in London; I was proposed to in a pub in Edinburgh; I found a painting of my doppelgänger in Seville; I saw the rains down in Africa (Morocco) and spent the night under the stars in the Sahara desert. I also danced more in those five months abroad than I have in all the 17 years since, combined.
Believe it or not, I’m not writing this to brag about all the cool places I’ve been. I’m writing about this because I think about these various scenes from my young adulthood a lot more than is probably healthy. Unfortunately, soon after I returned from Oxford I met the wrong someone, got engaged, got married, got traumatized, had a nervous breakdown, and got divorced. That is not to blame that wrong person—I had no idea they were the wrong person until I realized I had been being the wrong person, too. But life took a weird turn in 2010 that I still haven’t fully recovered from—though I have learned a lot about myself, my wounds, and how to live more authentically. And hey, I achieved my lifelong dream of becoming a published author! So not all bad. But I’ve still felt weirdly stuck on a creative and spiritual level.
Recently though, I’ve realized there are two things that stick out to me about these memories that I think would be helpful to keep alive in my mind, for my own good: 1) I am, naturally, an adventurous person, and 2) I thrive in unfamiliar settings and situations, especially when I have no one else to turn to for comfort or a social crutch. I think I have known this, on some level, for a long time, because my go-to remedy for Dark Days has always been to travel, even if it’s only to a town an hour away for a walk around an unfamiliar park. Traveling to unfamiliar places requires us to be present, even mindful—and depression has a hard time surfacing when your mind and your senses are fully occupied with the present moment. And when the Dark Days have been persistent and unyielding, I’ve frequently taken myself away to hermitage sites where I can be very alone (and unburdened) in an unfamiliar place. These trips have almost always been intensely healing for me, if not revelatory.
But while these things may be true, they are hard to square with my current reality where I have much less capacity (physically, mentally, emotionally) for stress, of which adventure and exploration require no small amount. Understanding now, post AuDHD diagnosis, that I probably made friends very easily while traveling because I was masking and projecting what they wanted to see takes away some of the rosy tinge of the memories, especially when I know a lifetime of masking is in part to blame for my poor health now. Knowing that I could think quick on my feet because I was able to channel my adrenaline into the service of problem solving, therefore leading to adrenal insufficiency later in life, makes me less proud of those memories and more chagrined and, well, frustrated. Some of the best parts of my life and who I thought myself to be have directly contributed to my current state, which is physically limited, fragile, and unpredictable, and mentally/emotionally so burnt out I no longer know how to experience pleasure or joy outside of a very narrow window of experiences.
The reason I’m writing this is partly because I turned 40 last month and took some magic [redacted] I had lying around, which was a beautiful experience that helped me see pretty clearly some of the things I do that prevent me from experiencing joy, and some of the things I need to focus on in order to heal. Another reason I am writing this is that the aforementioned burnout includes creative burnout, and guess what I need in order to write more novels and continue my career as an author???
(Yet another reason I am writing this is because I have the time to, thanks to several things beyond my control that have left me without an impending deadline, or a day job. But don’t worry, I will be okay.)
Because of all that, I have decided to use this extra time to “get back to my authentic, absolute-weirdo roots” as I put it to the Slack chat. I want to devote time in the next few months to exploration, adventure, and magic. Some of that will mean travel. Some of that will mean going to a new cafe to write, or trying new restaurants, or seeking out the hidden treasures of the neighborhood/city/region where I already live. I’m hoping to learn new things, too—I have several asynchronous courses I’m eager to start, some I’ve already started. I am also hoping to rediscover and reexamine old desires (like how I remembered last week in an abrupt cascade of memories that I once dreamed of owning and operating a non-denominational pagan temple and library: a place where people could come and do magic, pray, meditate, study, and worship, alone or in groups, and feel totally at peace and held in the embrace of a loving energy, whether divine, human, spiritual, or all of the above). I want to reconnect to what used to give me joy, determine if it still has that capacity, and if not, mine it for hints of what might bring me joy now. I also want to discover totally brand new things that I never would have dreamed could bring me joy*.
(*When I say “joy” I don’t mean only “happiness.” I include in my definition of “joy” acute pleasures of all kinds: curiosity, interest, challenge, deep peace, enthusiasm…basically anything that gives me dopamine.)
Since I’ve made this decision to embark on a new journey of experimentation and self-discovery, I’ve been crafting a spell to aid me on my way. The last big spell I did was not very successful, but when I look back I see that I was trying to create from a place of discomfort and insecurity. Some part of me knew there was something off about what I was asking for/pursuing, but I ignored that discomfort in favor of “powering through.” Well, I am done with “powering through.” I may be a powerful being (I believe we all are), but I no longer want to strong-arm myself through life. That is how I ended up where I am: nervous system dysregulated, chronically ill, and disconnected from my authentic self.
I know there is something to be said for fighting for the life and world you want, but there is something to be said for a less fraught way forward, too. Maybe that’s too woo-woo for some, but if my body and brain have taught me anything over the last decade, powering through and fighting what is only yield diminishing returns. I believe we can allow a better life and a better world to unfold, instead of grasping for it. In fact, I think that might be the only true way forward. “Follow your bliss” might sound trite, but to me, “fight for the life you want” sounds like the glorification of stress and struggle, which is just another face of the self-sacrificing values of the Puritanical work ethic, WHICH WE HATE. (This is not to say we should give up on righteous causes—just reframe them as something other than a “fight,” perhaps. But this is a big topic for another post.)
Anyway, the spell I’ve been crafting the last two weeks feels different—as does my choice to embrace my current situation and make the most of it. It feels like I’ve been given a present. The present is still wrapped, so I don’t know what’s inside, but I’m eager to find out. I’m curious, hopeful, and—importantly—I don’t feel any discomfort about receiving this gift. And, it just so happens, I began to craft and plan this spell before I realized it would perfectly line up with the astrology for the week/the next 12 months: A Sagittarius full moon? As Jupiter, the planet of expansion (which rules Sagittarius!), moves into Cancer, a loving, nurturing, big-mom-energy sign (remember when I said my word of 2025 is “nourish“?) which is in my ninth house (and the ninth house is ruled by Sagittarius!) of travel, adventure, higher education, spiritual growth??? Honestly, it’s like I am plugged in to the celestial message board this month.
TL;DR: I am beginning a period of experimentation and self discovery and I would like to share the journey with you all. I hope to keep up with these posts as interesting things unfold (I hope) and new random personal discoveries are made. I hope it’s clear, by now, that I share all this personal stuff with you because I hope it will help, and not just because I want to be witnessed (though I do appreciate y’all witnessing me <3). I have been reluctant to believe that my random epiphanies and revelations over the years could interest anyone but me and my friends, but the last few years have proven to me that humans (especially women) sharing their personal experiences with the rest of the world can bring tremendous healing and change. I am daily thankful for the women who have shared their C-PTSD, ASD, and ADHD experiences, who helped me realize I was also dealing with those things.
And I am deeply and forever grateful for those of you who felt seen and healed by the things you read in The Wilderness of Girls, even though it is a work of fiction (we all know the best fiction is written with the building blocks of truth).
That’s all for now! Go enter the giveaway on Instagram, or pre-order your copy of the paperback edition of The Wilderness of Girls!
Thanks for reading!