That essay cracked my ribs open in the best way—like a communion, like a knowing hand pressed to the small of my back saying, I see you, I’ve seen you, I see all of us. The way you give language to anxiety, not as enemy but as elder, not as burden but as witness, feels like gospel we’ve been needing.
The way you write —It hums. It pulses like a heartbeat too fast in the chest, like a whisper too holy to ignore. Every line holds a soft rebellion, a reclamation of the self inside the storm. I love how you hold history in the palm of your hand, tracing the ways survival is inherited, how worry is not just a weight but a warning, a wisdom passed down through bone and blood. There is something so true in what you’re saying: that our anxieties, our fears, our hypervigilance are not signs of failure but proof of love. Proof of all the people who made it, who had to make it, who needed us to make it, too.
And the care!!! The way you care for yourself, for your ancestors, for your readers —It’s tender and urgent. A call and response with the parts of us that have been waiting to be named. You remind us that healing doesn’t mean erasure, that we don’t have to abandon the parts of us that kept us safe. You don’t just write about anxiety—you hold it close, make space for it at the table, ask it what it needs. That kind of tenderness is a revolution.
I read this and felt less alone. I read this and felt my own heart unclench just a little, just enough. Thank you for this offering, for this mirror, for this hymn to all of us who have ever carried too much and called it our own.
Fam. I want to frame this comment. Like. In my house. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for these kind, profound words. They will sit with me a long time.
Gratitude is too small a word, but still, I’m sending it in abundance. Thank you for writing what you write, for feeling what you feel, for sharing it with us. It matters. You matter.
“That every woman, every femme, every person who has ever felt the weight of a pitcher in their hands is already carrying it. Already spilling. Already surviving.” So much yes!
I really, really love this piece you've woven together. As a Black femme, a Poet, a super-sensitive and highly-anxious girl who was raised by elder Black women who each beared a flood and drought of their own -- these words wrapped around and welcomed me with such *WARMTH*! The intergenerationality of it all, how these sentiments transcend generations and unveil themselves throughout time. The juxtaposition of fluidity and erosion. This is beautiful, truly. Thank you. Thank you. 💐🤎
yes, yes, yes — the person we're waiting for IS ourselves! feeling this deeply. I quit my job at the end of last year to start my own consulting firm and create space for my creative pursuits, and it's been stressful at times. whenever doubt creeps in I have to remind myself that everything I need is already within me, I just have to grow it. this piece was another reminder of that, just when I needed it. thank you!
GREAT stuff, Bethany. And bellieve it or not, Elvis Presley and Kurt Cobain had their own moments of persistent anxiety. Here's a story about how they triumphed: https://shorturl.at/EtahD
+ "an admitted bop about a white man’s heartbreak" - hilarious... it’s the ‘admitted’ part. I could make a list of the songs I will reluctantly allow are bops
+ "The algorithm, that modern-day overseer, had no choice but to bow." -oof you can turn a phrase
+ "to spill is to survive" - 😭what I will carry in my heart as I venture out into the day
BETHANY NICOLE. The way you ate this piece all the way UP. My gawd on today. This has to be my favorite thing I've read of yours to date. And you brought in Lucille Clifton?! Woman after my own heart. This is some real Lucille Clifton scholar business. You did that poem justice.
I am newer to Doechii but since discovering her at the end of last year, her discography has been a blessing to me.
"the woman who carries water is never waiting for someone else. She’s already in the desert, already drinking, already free."
These words will live on as an affirmation for me. I will take them with me through this wilderness.
I’d love to stay connected in this creative space qwand would be honored if you’d follow me back too. Let’s grow, write, and heal unapologetically—because this is what community looks like.
That essay cracked my ribs open in the best way—like a communion, like a knowing hand pressed to the small of my back saying, I see you, I’ve seen you, I see all of us. The way you give language to anxiety, not as enemy but as elder, not as burden but as witness, feels like gospel we’ve been needing.
The way you write —It hums. It pulses like a heartbeat too fast in the chest, like a whisper too holy to ignore. Every line holds a soft rebellion, a reclamation of the self inside the storm. I love how you hold history in the palm of your hand, tracing the ways survival is inherited, how worry is not just a weight but a warning, a wisdom passed down through bone and blood. There is something so true in what you’re saying: that our anxieties, our fears, our hypervigilance are not signs of failure but proof of love. Proof of all the people who made it, who had to make it, who needed us to make it, too.
And the care!!! The way you care for yourself, for your ancestors, for your readers —It’s tender and urgent. A call and response with the parts of us that have been waiting to be named. You remind us that healing doesn’t mean erasure, that we don’t have to abandon the parts of us that kept us safe. You don’t just write about anxiety—you hold it close, make space for it at the table, ask it what it needs. That kind of tenderness is a revolution.
I read this and felt less alone. I read this and felt my own heart unclench just a little, just enough. Thank you for this offering, for this mirror, for this hymn to all of us who have ever carried too much and called it our own.
🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥
Fam. I want to frame this comment. Like. In my house. Thank you from the bottom of my heart for these kind, profound words. They will sit with me a long time.
Gratitude is too small a word, but still, I’m sending it in abundance. Thank you for writing what you write, for feeling what you feel, for sharing it with us. It matters. You matter.
🫶🏾🙏🏾
“That every woman, every femme, every person who has ever felt the weight of a pitcher in their hands is already carrying it. Already spilling. Already surviving.” So much yes!
I really, really love this piece you've woven together. As a Black femme, a Poet, a super-sensitive and highly-anxious girl who was raised by elder Black women who each beared a flood and drought of their own -- these words wrapped around and welcomed me with such *WARMTH*! The intergenerationality of it all, how these sentiments transcend generations and unveil themselves throughout time. The juxtaposition of fluidity and erosion. This is beautiful, truly. Thank you. Thank you. 💐🤎
Oh Jasmineeeee. This gas is gon sit in my spirit a very long time. Thank you so so much for reading and for sharing your feedback w me.
Baby the title alone! Whewwwww😮💨🫀
Skkkk!!! Thank you friend! 🙏🏾
yes, yes, yes — the person we're waiting for IS ourselves! feeling this deeply. I quit my job at the end of last year to start my own consulting firm and create space for my creative pursuits, and it's been stressful at times. whenever doubt creeps in I have to remind myself that everything I need is already within me, I just have to grow it. this piece was another reminder of that, just when I needed it. thank you!
GREAT stuff, Bethany. And bellieve it or not, Elvis Presley and Kurt Cobain had their own moments of persistent anxiety. Here's a story about how they triumphed: https://shorturl.at/EtahD
Oooh great read. Thanks so much for sharing.
Some highlights for me:
+ "an admitted bop about a white man’s heartbreak" - hilarious... it’s the ‘admitted’ part. I could make a list of the songs I will reluctantly allow are bops
+ "The algorithm, that modern-day overseer, had no choice but to bow." -oof you can turn a phrase
+ "to spill is to survive" - 😭what I will carry in my heart as I venture out into the day
Thank you for being!
BETHANY NICOLE. The way you ate this piece all the way UP. My gawd on today. This has to be my favorite thing I've read of yours to date. And you brought in Lucille Clifton?! Woman after my own heart. This is some real Lucille Clifton scholar business. You did that poem justice.
I am newer to Doechii but since discovering her at the end of last year, her discography has been a blessing to me.
"the woman who carries water is never waiting for someone else. She’s already in the desert, already drinking, already free."
These words will live on as an affirmation for me. I will take them with me through this wilderness.
THANK YOU.
!!!!!!!
This comment has made me undoneeee. Thank you so much my good friend.
The personal. The spiritual. The political. It’s all here. Thank you for sharing this with all of us.
I’d love to stay connected in this creative space qwand would be honored if you’d follow me back too. Let’s grow, write, and heal unapologetically—because this is what community looks like.
https://substack.com/@msmaine/note/c-108582438?r=1t2agi&utm_medium=ios&utm_source=notes-share-action