In the ring
On public displays of private unravelings and coming back into the light again
Over the last few weeks, my editor, a few cold readers, and I have been combing through my book with a fine-tooth comb: fact-checking, correcting typos, and flagging repeated phrasing that appears too close together. (If I want to keep something as-is, I just write “STET” in the margin. It means: leave it.)
I’ve learned all kinds of publishing lingo (1P, 2P, t/o, STET) throughout this process. And a new fear has been unlocked: the one where I triple-check that I’m tracking changes correctly in Microsoft Word. Because if I’m not, I have to start from the very beginning. Changes always need to be tracked.
Once I send my edits back, my body collapses. The turnaround times are tight, and editing demands a level of time, focus, and emotional weight I didn’t know I had the bandwidth for. Sometimes, like this week, I let myself rest. A full day in bed, but not without guilt.
I do not want to rest, but I can’t help it; my body and brain reject creating anything for social media or this newsletter. They beg for, no, demand, either a full day in bed or a day off my phone and in the New York museums before getting back out there and into the ring. For me, being in the ring means creating content here, on Instagram, and on Tiktok.
Being in the ring means putting myself out there.
There are days and weeks when we’re in the ring—maybe Monday through Friday—and weekends are for stepping out. We rest, get quiet, reflect, and stay close to our private lives.
With the rainy Brooklyn weather and my body knowing it needs to rest before the big push of book promotion this summer, I’ve been quiet on Instagram for two weeks, letting myself feel the anxiety, dread, excitement, and solitude, all while caffeinating myself accordingly and reflecting on all the seasons of my life, both in and out of the ring.
While taking a long hot shower this morning, emulsifying shampoo in my palms, I found myself thinking about how much easier life feels when we’re not in the ring. When we let go of the pressure and just opt out. (Shoutout to Abby Yung, a trichologist-slash-TikToker whose haircare tips have somehow become my safe little ritual. Boar brush, scalp massage, rotating shampoos.)
As I used the “pads of fingers to create small circles on my scalp” with the shampoo, I started to think about how when we take a break, whether from working out, dating, our careers, or just trying in general, we’re really saying, “Okay, I’m not trying anymore, so you can’t be mad at me. I can’t fail.”
It’s always easier not to try. But time passes anyway.
I’m about to “lock in” (as the kids say) and head into a season of really putting myself out there with book promo, interviews, and of course, the memoir’s release. There is no hiding. There is only trying. I like to describe myself at the edge of a diving board. When in actuality, I’ve already jumped. I’m currently falling.
For me, there are only two seasons: in the ring, and out. Being in the ring has always meant sharing publicly. Since I was 18, I’ve moved between visibility and retreat. I used to think each season would last forever. Now I see them for what they are: just seasons.
2008–2009: in the ring with my blog For the Love of Peanut Butter
2009–2013: out of the ring, graduating college and moving to NYC
2013–2019: in the ring, building Lee From America
2019–2023: out of the ring, recovering and figuring out what I wanted
2023–present: in the ring, writing and promoting If You Don’t Like This, I Will Die
Guys, I’m “in the ring”. In the ring means I’m comparing myself to others. In the ring means I’m being vulnerable. In the ring means I might fail. In the ring means big losses and big wins. In the ring means I’m not hiding. In the ring means I’m making sacrifices. In the ring means I’m juggling time management. In the ring means I’m susceptible to hurt. In the ring means I am nursing creativity. In the ring means I am having so much fun with work. In the ring means anxiety. In the ring means I’m exactly that: in the ring.
I put myself here. I decided to do this.