Language of Love with Dr. Laura Berman - Cheryl Strayed Talks about Her "Inner Terrible Someone" And Learning to Love Fear

Episode Date: May 4, 2022

I am so excited about today’s episode! I finally got to sit down and interview Cheryl Strayed, one of my favorite authors and a true inspiration for so many. Cheryl, of course, is the NYT best-selling author of “Wild,” which was later made into a beautiful Oscar-nominated movie. Cheryl and I have known each other for years, and I have always been a massive fan of her work. Cheryl has a hilarious anecdote about the first time we met, which you will have to listen to the episode to hear, but let me just say, it ends with Cheryl asking me: “Laura, do I make you sick?” HA! Not at all, girl. This led us to talking about your “ITS”! This is Cheryl’s name for your “inner terrible someone,” that voice in your head that always offers up the cruelest self-criticism and narrates the worst possible version of scenarios. Sadly, we all have that “inner terrible someone” who is quick to heap on the shame, doubt, fear and self-loathing that keeps us from accessing our true worthiness and our true mission here. On this episode you will learn: • How Cheryl silences her inner critic when she’s writing and creating, and how other creative folks can use her wisdom to welcome their inner critics without fear • How to access the wise, true, loving voice inside of yourself (yes, I promise, it is there! And it is longing to be heard and listened to by you) • How we can heal from our negative thoughts while realizing that our “inner terrible someone” can also be a catalyst for growth and curiosity about ourselves • How you can learn to love fear instead of repelling it, and how our “ITS” are a valuable way to connect with other people Take a listen to this very special episode and let me know what you think! Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

Hey, I'm Dr. Laura Berman, a sex and relationship therapist. And for the past three decades, I've been helping people learn how to love and be loved better. That's what we're doing here on The Language of Love, where I get to answer calls and emails from people just like you. My goal with The Language of Love is to help you discover more meaningful emotional and physical intimacy and to help you build more awareness of how precious and sacred your sexuality really is. Be sure to email me or reach out with your very own love sex relationship

questions and I might just answer them live on the air. It's time we all become fluent in the language of love. I am so excited to introduce, not that she needs an introduction, our guest this week, Cheryl Strayed. She's a number one New York Times bestselling author. Her memoir, Wild, was also made into a movie with Reese Witherspoon starring as her. And by the way, that was one of the few books to movie renditions that I thought was really, really excellent. Cheryl, I just want to tell you that and tell you welcome. Thank you so much. You're welcome. And Prince of Tides is another one, much older than Wild, but that I thought was a really good adaptation. But Wild is a beautiful book as well as a beautiful movie. It was chosen by Oprah

Winfrey as her selection for her Oprah's Book Club 2.0. And the movie was Oscar nominated. And also she has a New York Times hit podcast, Sugar Calling and Dear Sugars, which she co-hosted with Steve Almond and has written and continues to write essays that are published everywhere and has been such an inspiration to so many. You know, Cheryl, I don't know if you remember, but I met you, gosh, it was several years ago. I think it was like at a Celebrate Your Life conference or something where we were both speaking and I kind of fangirled up to you. And I was like, I just want you to know that I think you're amazing. And you were so gracious and sweet and normal and not at all annoyed by me. So I just wanted to thank you for

that. Oh my gosh, Laura. I'm so glad you say that because of course I remember exactly where we met and you're right. It was a celebrate your life, right? In Phoenix. Well, first of all, everything you said, I was just like, I wanted to just tackle you and be like, you're my friend. You're my sister. We are connected. We know each other, even though it's the first time we met. But here is what has been weighing on me, Laura, all these years since then. I don't know if you remember this, that I was participating in that conference, but the morning I woke up, like the morning of my talk and the morning you and I met, I woke up really sick and I had a fever. And I was just like, I don't think I can participate. And they were like, come on, you can do it. Suck it up.

And I met you. I did not notice that at all. Really? After I said goodbye to you, I remember walking out of the room, going into my hotel room. I couldn't fly home because I was so sick. Finally flew home, tested for influenza A positive. And I always was afraid I gave it to you. Oh my God, really? Like one of the sickest I've ever been in my life. Did I make you sick? No, you did not. Not that I remember. Wow. I was actually sick for like three weeks. I really was sick. No, I don't think I got sick at all. I would.

You would remember if I gave you because you would think like Cheryl Strayed gave me the influenza. No, there's no way I would have blamed you. I would have just blamed it on the crowds. But yeah, so you can rest assured you did not make me sad. But Laura, I always felt worried about that. You did? Isn't it funny how we like carry these parents like and I've been walking around feeling like you thought I was some geek fangirl coming up and bothering you at the table. but this just goes to show you, we carry these little stories with us that aren't at all true. So there you go. Oh, that is such a big thing. I hope we can dig into that. The flu. I mean, I find that we always have those stories. I call it your, it's your inner terrible

someone who's like narrates the sort of worst version of events. Why did you say that? Or what did you, why did you look so silly in that moment and open your big mouth? And you do that too. And almost all of that just comes from within. Of course. I mean, here's the thing. You know this. It's human. It's human to do that. And I actually think in some ways, obviously, a big part of having a whole healthy, happy life and healing and all that good stuff is countering that inner terrible someone with, I think, your wise, true, loving voice that also lives within you. But I also think it's actually healthy to have your inner terrible someone, because I think that if you don't have that, like you really maybe just feel like you never have to grow or never have to contemplate change or evolution or any of those things. it's a great point, right? One end of the spectrum is sort of an extreme narcissist who's unwilling to see any place of personal growth. And doesn't that inner terrible someone is like so muted underneath grandiosity, right? And then, and that's an extreme. And then on the other end is someone who, you know, can barely lift their head or have a conversation without torturing themselves

and regretting and being full of self-doubt. And, you know, most of us live somewhere in between there. But it's always been an interesting question. And I'm curious how you would weigh in on this, because I think you're right that you want a part of being an integrity with yourself is being open and curious about ways you can grow or things you may have always with good intentions. It's not like we intend to be an idiot, but we often do make mistakes or hurt people or whatever. So there's that one side of being open to that inner terrible voice, being curious about it and trying it on. But then at the same time, not letting that run your life and not beating yourself up and also recognizing when that inner terrible voice or what I call

them are these little gremlins in your head, that evil roommate in your head that's telling you what an idiot you are. For many of us, we need to really start to silent that one and say, no, you kept me safe, you serve a purpose, but how would you say you navigate that line of being curious and open to that voice that's challenging you, but not really adopting all of the negativity and recognizing the difference between when there's an opportunity for learning about yourself and when you're just really, it's those old patterns of beating up on yourself. I live through every day and grapple with every day. And I think most people do, if they're honest about it. Where are we trying to go? What's the destination when it comes to making our lives better, having a better sense of emotional well-being and peace? And it's like, okay, that inner terrible someone, there won't be that voice in my head. And I'll be just a person who feels just comfortable and accepting and self-forgiving and self-loving all the time. first of all, I don't think that I'll ever get there. I also don't think that I want to. I don't

think I like that person. It was kind of an interesting breakthrough when I realized, okay, my it's my inner terrible someone again, that's I call them my it's, you know, it serves this purpose and is actually part of what makes me who I am. And I could just use the example in my writing. Never do I sit down and think, yay, here we go. I'm just going to sit here and let the sentences pour out of me brilliantly and beautifully and everyone will love them and I feel great about it all. Actually, I sit down, I do everything I can first to avoid sitting down. I do everything I can to avoid getting to work and to doing that thing that I love. And every writer is really common. And it's because my inner terrible someone is saying, you can't do it. You

have nothing to say. You're stupid. Nobody will want to read it anyway. All of that stuff. And I realize, oh, okay, you're actually one of the team members who has contributed to my success as a writer. You are the voice of doom, the voice of doubt, the voice of my fear. And through you, I get to channel those emotions. And so I'm going to say, welcome to the table. You only get to take one chair. You sit over there. And then all those other glorious voices in my head get to sit at the table too. In Wild, I wrote about this too, when it came to fear. I didn't say fear doesn't exist. When you decide as a woman to walk alone in the wilderness, I don't think the point is to say, yeah, I just am completely fearless. I have no qualms whatsoever. Instead, I said, I'm not going

to let fear be my ruler. And my mantra when I was hiking the Pacific Crest Trail was whenever I felt afraid, I would say, I am not afraid. So you see, fear is there at the same time that I'm saying, you're not there, I'm not afraid. But what I was really saying is, fear is not my ruler. Fear will not be the thing that dictates how I live, what I say, what I do, where I go, who I love, fill in the blank. So I've come to embrace that negative voice rather than try to repel it or try to see its existence as a sign of some kind of dark thing about me. It's actually part of who I am. And I think it's part of all of us.

And I think that's one of the reasons that your writing resonates so much, because when that fear dude speaks through your writing, it resonates with people. When it speaks in your writing or has a voice, it's also speaking for all the it's in the rest of us. And I think that is part of the humanity of your writing, because you do really, in a beautiful way, both in the advice you give is dear sugar, but also in all of your writing, you speak to the warts and the fears and the insecurities and the imperfections in all of us. And I want to dig into wild a little bit in particular around, you know, one of the things

I've heard you say, I don't remember if it was when I read something or I saw you speak somewhere, but I remember it really resonated with me in part because I related to it so deeply because the same thing happened to me when my mother died, right? Like Wild is the story of your journey after healing or starting to heal after the loss of your mother. And you call your mother's death your Genesis story. And that resonated so much with me. I'm wondering whether you will speak to that a little bit, what you mean by that. What I mean by that is I really know that when we lose someone who is essential to us, whether it be a parent, a child, a spouse, a friend. I mean, you can have a parent who doesn't feel essential to you, but whoever that person

is, if they feel like they're one of the essential people in your life, one of the people who actually live inside of you in that really deep way that many of our mothers do, we don't know how to go on without them. The world is profoundly different when they are no longer in it. And every way, when my mother died, she died at the age of 45 when I was 22, I realized immediately, okay, so life as I knew it had ended. One version of Cheryl was over on the day my mom died. And I think some people think what I might mean by that is it's all over.

And I don't mean that. What I mean is it's true that when you lose somebody essential, and Laura, I know you know this well and deeply is you have to find a way to live again in the world without them. And you have to find a way to live for the rest of your life with the presence, their presence and their absence. And that's a really, really hard thing to do. And so I did have to find a way to live again. And the world is a different place without my mother in it. this happened after my mother died as well. She was my soulmate and I was so unbelievably close to her. And so that was like my first huge, I mean, I'd lost grandparents and people who I was

really close to, but it's not the same as losing your mother if they are that essential person to you. Right. And then of course, losing my son a year ago was that on steroids. What was amazing to me in both situations was looking around the world and my world was completely shattered. Nothing was ever going to be the same. And yet everyone and everything, the world is still spinning. People are still going to work. Everyone's just going on with their lives. And I remember just wanting to shriek, like, how can you all be carrying on living when my life, as I knew it is over. It was just this weird and horrific, especially for a recovering codependent like me, you know, sense of real isolation of like, I'm in a different dimension than everyone

else. And that was one of the things that really struck me. I know you did many things. And I think I even read that you were going to eventually became wild, was going to be a collection of essays. But you started writing the essay on your journey on the Appalachian Trail and it just became a book, right? Because there was so much there. Right. On the Pacific Crest Trail. Yeah. Right. Yes. On the Pacific Crest Trail. So I remember at the time, because it was around the same time, I don't remember if it was before or after my own mother died, but I remember thinking, yeah, like that makes sense. Going into the wilderness, into the belly of your own beast and into the belly of the fear and leaving life behind almost makes sense when life as you knew

it is over. Because to try to continue to function in the world can be really tough. Yeah. And it's exactly what you're talking about, this feeling, which is universal, this universal feeling where you have suffered something tremendous and life altering and the people around you haven't. And it's hard not to feel isolated and enraged, even illogically, because surely even as you felt that, you knew, well, okay, well then two years ago when my neighbor experienced a great loss, I was still going on with my life. We have to go on, right? Yeah, of course. And then when we experience that loss, we have to feel ourselves outside of the rest of the world.

And we have to figure out how to become, I almost said real again, like to find our way back to that sense of connectedness and community. When I decided to go hike on the Pacific Crest Trail, I wasn't consciously thinking, okay, I need a rite of passage because I have gone, you know, my life has ended and I've got to start anew and I need to enact a ritual by going on a journey that connects me to the kinds of ancient rituals that we've done through all time. But once I was writing about it, and once I was on the trip, I understood that that's what I was doing. I mean, I thought a lot about the ways that cultures throughout time all over the world, for example, as they move up from youth to adulthood, to experience rites of passages in which they're required to be alone, they're required to test themselves almost always physically, but also spiritually, emotionally, psychologically, they're out of their comfort zone. And they're given that opportunity to do that because it allows them to see in a new way

who they are, to let go of what's behind them, their youth, to step into what's next, that next phase of life, adulthood. And I think I've really become convinced that that is one of the most powerful ways we can heal a loss, like the death of a person who was essential to us, that we allow ourselves to go on that kind of journey where we are tested and that we get to, in some ways, step into that next age. That's so beautiful. I mean, look, Jesus in the desert. It's from the beginning of time, this idea of the odyssey, so to speak, that you're absolutely right. In many indigenous cultures and in many non-indigenous cultures around the world, that's fundamental. It's not so much in our culture.

We go to college, sort of party our way into growing up. But I do think there is when something really huge happens that breaks you apart and breaks you open, you know, I call those AFGEs, another fucking growth experience, you know, but that really break you apart. There is this need to I mean, we don't always follow the need, but there is this need to go away, to go inside, to go reconfigure because who you were and who you now are are totally different and you have to kind of figure out that bridge. I'm curious what advice, because there's so many people who are with us who, like us, are currently or have gone through one of these really

dark nights of the soul, a huge essential loss, and feel what we're talking about, that I am not the same, and I can't operate on the same operating principles, and yet here I am on the hamster wheel. What advice do you have? I mean, not everyone can take off into the wilderness, right? I mean, that would be ideal. But what kind of advice do you give to folks who are needing and wanting to integrate themselves and rediscover themselves after loss or tragedy? Well, first of all, I would say it's really great that they found their way here to you and your voice. I've always thought one of the most important and powerful things we can do for ourselves when we have that feeling you described, the world's going on, and here I am alone in it with this pain. to find other people who have had that experience that you've had. Obviously your own experience is original and specific in particular, but the comfort of people who know what you mean,

maybe even sometimes well-intentioned people say the wrong thing. I used to keep a journal and I was looking back at my journals in like a couple of months after my mom died. And I'm lambasting myself on the page saying, it's been three months. Why am I still so sad? And I look at that now and I just think it makes me so sad for my younger self because I had been told something that wasn't true about grief. And there's obviously so much more literature now about grief and so much more consciousness of what grief really looks like over in the short term, in the long term, over the span of a life. So my first advice is find that stuff. Find the people who will affirm your experience, who will support you as you find your way through it.

And that in itself is a kind of journey. Connect yourself with people who will see you. And I think you're right. Like I don't, not everyone can say, okay, I'm gonna take three months off and go walk in the wilderness. If you can do that, I encourage you to do that. Whether it be the Pacific Crest Trail

or some version of, you know, to put yourself through some crucible. But even a really common thing will be you can take a journey at home. People who do things like they say, I'm gonna train for a marathon. Because I have suffered something and I need to, in some way, enact with my body. I think that there's a really key point here about this idea of journey being a physical experience. I'm going to put my body through a kind of test. That can be really healing. I think sometimes do the opposite, that go deep into the spirit and the mind and do things that allow you to uncover and excavate that inner world. Go on a journey as a writer, even if you're not a writer. Use writing as a tool to express things that we don't get to express in any other context.

reach out to places that will ask you to tap into what's inside and when I say reach out to places that can be an online workshop it can be an in-person workshop it can be anything that sparks you there are all these newsletters and websites that have prompts anything that sparks you to that deeper realm that where you're living like that's part of the reason you feel isolated when the world goes on because where you're living is inside all of those big deep emotions and I found that the sooner that you can bring some of that to the surface, even if only to yourself, the more powerful that medicine will be in your own healing. Yeah. And the less stuck you become, you know, I think one of the things that I have learned

through going through the deepest grief, but I mean, deeper than I could have ever imagined, you know, people, if you'd asked me before, like, you know, what would happen if one of your children died? Like we can all imagine, right? None of us want to imagine, but we can. and like multiply that by a million. And that's what this was or is. I knew because of what had happened and I'd gotten really ill after my mom died because I didn't do any of that. I was in the middle of film, you know, taping a new show for OWN and I had my radio show and I had two young kids still at home and I had so much to manage. I was just doing it in little bits and bobs where I could. But I really, I mean, when you talk about going into the physical experience of

the pain and tap into what's inside and those big, deep emotions. I didn't want to do that. It felt hard enough for me to keep going. And I found this to be true with so many people I talked to today, which is why I think this is so important. What you're saying is that our instinct, which you didn't do, you did, you went on your odyssey, but our instinct is like, I don't want to be with it. And then of course that, which we can't be with runs our life. But I remember after Sammy, after my son died, I knew I was like, I cannot cope with this the same way I did before because I need to keep living. The irony of it was for some reason, I don't know why, because my entire universe crumbled. I almost immediately felt this extreme visceral awareness in a way I

had never had before about what an insane gift it is to be alive and in this body and breathing and just alive. It was just like, it's such a gift. And so I was very aware, even though part of me didn't want to live anymore, I was very aware that I needed to honor this gift. And I was aware that I needed to stay alive for my other kids and my husband. And so I knew I couldn't do it the way I did before. And what I did, which was a much a mini version of what you did, because I had these kids at home and my husband was literally like five days after Sammy died. I went to my husband and I said, I feel really guilty saying this because I know you all need me right now, but I don't think I'm going to survive if I don't leave for a while. So I'm going to take a week,

which, by the way, is the longest since my little ones have been born that I've left them alone with maybe, yeah, pretty much the longest I've ever left them. And I'm going to leave all of you and go into the woods and just wail my grief into the redwoods and work remotely with my healers or in person. And I had a girlfriend who was just masterful at holding space. And I called her my grief concierge and she set everything up and I did it. And I know like that, I cannot tell you how foundational that was and how huge the progress that I made. I kept a video diary every day and even seeing me on the first day versus the last day, I mean, I still had shit tons to go, but it launched the journey and just being able to take that time and

go all the way into it and not have to take care of anyone else or worry about freaking them out and just to fully descend into the belly of the beast was the best thing I ever could have done. And my commitment since then, which has been the hardest part, and you're kind of speaking to this when you talk about being with those big, deep emotions, is every day allowing myself to feel whatever wants to be felt, the pain, the anger, the sadness, the grief, the loss, the frustration, whatever it is to really allow myself to embody that. And that's why I think it's so powerful in large part, what you're talking about with that physical piece, because whatever it is that you're going to do or choose to do to allow yourself to embody and move physically in some

way through the pain, I think is the missing piece of so many people. Yeah. I mean, I think that's such a beautiful story, Laura. I mean, and how amazing that you trusted yourself, that you knew you were in touch with yourself enough. You knew intuitively that you needed to do this thing to, I mean, I don't want to say heal yourself because that's a long journey, but to begin to open up to some of that stuff that was there. And I want to say too, I think that there's, as you know, there's no one right way to grieve or to do that. I didn't go on my Pacific Crest trail journey until my mom had been dead three and a half years. That too, that was like a different era of my grief where I found myself really self-destructing in my sorrow. I sort of

looked up from the bottom of that place and thought, my mother loved me too well for me to ruin my life. Enough time had passed for me. I needed to let some time pass before I could go on that rite of passage journey. And so I think these two stories that we've just presented, it's never too late and it's never too early. Sometimes I teach writing workshops, like occasional kind of weekend workshops. I'm teaching one at Kripalu in May and one at the Omega Institute in October. And it's for writers. And so it's like people who want to develop their craft, but a lot of it too is people really writing those stories that they need to tell. And very often those stories are about grief, are about loss, are about wound. And I'm

always moved to see that it is never too late to do that work. Somebody could be writing about something that happened 40 or 50 years ago and there are tears streaming down their face and they feel altered and changed because they went on the journey of finally telling it or finally facing it or seeing it. And there isn't a right, it's not like you have to do it on a certain timeline. Yeah. And there is that divine timing. And that's something honestly that I think has been fundamental to saving our family sanity is from the moment that this started. Thank you, David Kessler, who is Mr. Grief and came into the picture and almost immediately and guided us. But the most powerful thing he said to me, because I tend to think my way is the right way, is there

is no right or wrong way. Like you really cannot make your husband or your kids wrong for that. You can't have judgment about how they're doing it. And Lord knows with the way that they compartmentalize and avoid things, I wanted to have judgment. I've really held to that. And it's been so interesting to watch how we all handle it so differently. And eventually, like you said, I'm right in the belly of the beast from the beginning. My husband is going to go much more gently over the next five years or the next 50 years or whatever. But you're absolutely right. It's never too late. And it's not just the grief of having lost someone essential, as we're talking about, although that's a huge part of it. It's also, which I know you address in these workshops,

people write about all sorts of things, not just people who have died, but painful traumas that have happened to them, things that they regret and have carried with them and haven't ever forgiven themselves for, you know, there's so many ways in which that which we can't be with is an undercurrent running our lives. And that's OK. Right. Because we all have undercurrents running our lives. That's part of the it's that we were talking about before. But it's also never too late to release it and you can't release it until you're willing to be with it. And I think that's a big part for me, at least of the story of wild because you were on this odyssey, but you also were fully with what you weren't able to be with until then. Yeah. And it's interesting that

word release, because I know there are all these ways that that's the right word, because I did release a lot of sorrow and anger and a lot of feelings that I was holding. But I think the most powerful thing I did was actually release the idea that I couldn't carry my grief. That for me, the biggest healing lesson I had that I got from that hike and that experience of having the opportunity to challenge myself physically, as you say, that here I was in a situation where every step hurt, you know, like actually physically, that was exactly true. Also in my mind that I was like it her every day hurts without my mother that I have to live my life without her. I was doing with the body what what I was feeling in the soul or the spirit or inside of myself,

right. But what I came to understand is part of what was so painful about my grief was this feeling like I can't do this. I can't live without my mother. It's too sad and too awful and all of that. And then I realized here I was, it's actually like, actually you can and you are and you will. I think that we always have that choice. Like, am I going to carry this? And you're so right. Sometimes it's about the death of a loved one. It's usually a whole basket of things, right? Like hardly any of us just have one wound, right? It's like, okay, I'm going to carry the death of my mother, the young death of my mother. I'm going to carry the father who wasn't a good father to me.

I'm going to carry the sorrows of my own regret, the mistakes I made, the things I wish I could go back and do differently. And am I going to carry that and act all of my life as if it is a burden that holds me back, that keeps me from moving forward, that keeps me stuck and mired in the muck? or am I going to carry it forward with grace and generosity and compassion and light? Am I going to carry it as if it is a gift? And that is sometimes a painful leap because the minute you say that, people are like, well, really? Aren't you kind of saying then that it's good your mom died? You know, it's like, no, I would give the gift back, but I do not have the choice to give the

gift back. And you, my dear Laura, do not get to give that gift back. And I just want to say, you know, I think that, I mean, I've thought of you every single day this past year. You and I only met once at a conference, but my heart just, I carried you. I carried you in my heart. And I know I speak for thousands of people out there who have too. And to know that you are the kind of person who will get to that place to say this painful gift, I would return it, but it's mine. And so I'm going to make some beauty of it. I think that is the most beautiful thing we can do to honor those people we love. And I already feel the beginnings of that, although I've been really conscious not to rush it and to really be with it. But I do want to talk about that because

I was just saying to a girlfriend the other day that before this happened, people would say, oh, you never get over it. Carry it for the rest of your life. Like that to me was the scariest thing. Like, oh, carrying something for the rest of my life, never getting over something like, oh my God, like that was so scary to me for some reason. And what I've learned, you know, it's that old meme or image you see of like the ball of grief stays the same size, but the container holding it expands and grows and fills with light and gets bigger and bigger and bigger. So it's not that the grief gets smaller. It's that the space to hold it and work with it and learn from it and discover gifts in it gets bigger and bigger and bigger around it. So yeah,

sometimes it feels like a burden to carry it. I mean, fuck, I'd give it back in a second. But most of the time, eventually, and I think everyone's eventually is different, you start to feel the expansiveness with which you can hold it. And I'm just wondering what your experience is and what gifts. I mean, obviously, Wild was one of the gifts that grew out of this tragedy of losing your mom. But any other gifts or ways that's been your experience as well, that the space holding it gets larger and wider and more filled with light? Absolutely. And I think you're right that it's certainly not the thing to be expecting to feel in any kind of immediate aftermath of a loss or even in the first few years. I think that you grow into it.

And if you stay awake, if you allow yourself to feel all the different things that you feel when it comes to those feelings about the person you lost and loved and still love, if you stay open to that, it's exactly what you say. it becomes a space in which you realize just the smallest thing like that you can you can be the person who looks at somebody else in pain or somebody else is suffering and you can say to them I know what you mean I feel your sorrow in my heart that tiny act of of connection is a gift it's something that you now have that you didn't have before it's a way to make the ugly thing a beautiful thing. And then of course, that just expands over time. I think of course, not just wild, but all of my writing is absolutely, I mean, I always say I do this, as you know, I write the sugar advice column, and it's collected in my book, tiny, beautiful things. And I've continued

to write it in different ways over time. I'm now writing it as a sub stack newsletter. And every month, I answer somebody's letter and I give advice. And always, I think that offering is in some ways rooted in the wounds that I carry because of the losses I've experienced. And I always think of that the way that this, I guess, wisdom, compassion, view of the world that suffering allowed me, allows me to sort of comfort others who are feeling as if they're lost or in pain. And I do, I think that that has been a tremendous gift. And little things like I'm sure if you've experienced this too. What I realized after I wrote Wild and people all over the world were reading it and then they would come to me and they would talk to me about my mom and they

would say her name. They would say, Bobby. And I would be startled because they know my mother's name. And what I wanted more than anything was her back. I wanted my mom back and I don't get to have her back, but I got to make her alive in the only way that she can possibly be alive. You know, that I made her alive, you know, on the pages of my book that then went into the reader's lives and minds and hearts as well. And I think that that is powerful too. And I was giving in some ways myself, the gift is what I mean to say that I wanted my mother back. And in some tiny version, I got her back because other people love my mom too. Strangers love my mom. Oh, yeah, I guess. And I'm already getting that, you know, with Sammy because of how vast the reach has been about the tragic way in which he died and the information and education that's needed. It's an outgrowth of that, that it is wild in a way, no pun intended, that, you know, I hear his name or read his name, not out of my lips or writing almost every day in one way or another. So and I can feel into the beginning.

How does that feel? I bet it feels wonderful. It sometimes feels painful. It's funny because we all like I was saying, we all deal with in different ways. I know for my husband, it's painful for me. He's always like right here. So I can speak his name. I can talk about him. I like talking about him. I like seeing his picture. It doesn't make me feel gobsmacked because I in no way am kind of compartmentalizing it to survive. I went into the belly of the beast and have kind of stayed there. My husband compartmentalizes. So I'm really sensitive about not talking about him or showing a picture unless he, which he is often, is talking about it or bringing it up because I know he needs those periods of respite. And for him, it's still painful to hear his name or see his image. For me, it's like a wink.

It's like a beautiful visitor. And I think, you know, eventually it will be that for him too. We even had this thing where he said to me, when you post on social media and show his picture, I feel gobsmacked because I'm not expecting it. It makes me so sad. And for a minute, I started to say, well, you know, first thing I said, well, I don't want you to be in pain and I don't want to be the source of your pain. And the first codependent instinct I had was like, well, I won't post about him anymore. And then I caught myself and I was like, you know what? Doesn't feel an integrity for me to not post about him when I feel compelled about putting up a picture or a statement. So why don't you not follow me for a little bit? And that way it's a win win.

So I was really proud of myself as the old me would have been like, OK, but that didn't feel because I love talking about him and sharing stories about him. And I love the sense of healing that it seems to give others when I do. I had no idea that was going to happen. And that's been one of the most beautiful things is how healing watching my pain seems to be for other people who are also in pain because I'm always the pain healer, not the pain demonstrator, but I'm demonstrating it now. Right. Obviously your life is so particular, your son, your, you know, all of that highly and totally original. And yet what we're speaking to is a universal human experience that has existed through all time and will continue to exist. And so we're speaking into that when we tell the truth about our sorrow. Yeah, it really is. I thank you so much for the

work that you do in the world and the hearts that you heal and the soulful way in which you express yourself and show us what's possible in self-expression. And I just want everyone to read everything you've ever written if they haven't already. And if they want to learn more about you, obviously they can go to CherylStrayed.com, right? And learn about all your workshops you have coming and books and, but definitely check out Deer. Is it Deer Sugar still or is it, are you still doing the column? Yeah, I'm doing the column once a month. Laura, I'll add you as a subscriber when we when we get off here. But yeah, once a month, the last day of the month, a Dear Sugar letter goes out. And it's been really fun. I restarted the column about a

year and a half ago, because so many people were still writing to me Dear Sugar letters. And I was like, Okay, I'm going to do this. It's a subscriber based Dear Sugar letter. And it's been really, really wonderful to to be doing that again. Because like, it does feel to me, like the best work I can do as a writer to really directly offer help to people who are in some kind of conundrum or, or struggle. Yeah. And she's, and her voice, your voice, but Sugar's voice is so loving and relatable and flawed, but also wise. And it's like this, you know, it is you, but it's also kind of an alter ego of you, which I think is really beautiful. So definitely I want everybody to check that out. And I just want to thank you. And hopefully it won't be another

three years and a flu ridden exchange the next time we see each other. I'm so glad I didn't give you the flu. You didn't. You can rest easy. I'm so grateful to be here. I can rest easy. Hey, Laura, I'm so grateful that you invited me here to talk to you. And I just think you're extraordinary and wonderful and beautiful. And it is true that I hold you in my heart. I've thought of you and your family so much over this past year. And I'm always sending you love across the universe.

I feel it. That's what I always say. I've never realized how powerful prayers are until now. Because when people would say, what can I do? I was like, I feel the prayers. I love the prayers. Send the prayers because it really makes a difference. So I so thank you for yours.

Thank you, dear. It was wonderful to talk to you.