Updates from My Pneumonia Weeks
'We Can Do Hard Things' show, Corporate America, and how to counter despair
Dear Ponder,
I’ve been trying to avoid writing to you for fear that my writing would appear “sub-par.” The reality is that I’m still recovering—very slowly—from pneumonia. I have no idea what caused it, but the fact that the ER misdiagnosed my condition as sinusitis rather than pneumonia had delayed my recovery. When I finally got the diagnosis from my primary care physician, the antibiotic treatment completely knocked me out and gave me severe side effects. I’ve been suffering from debilitating fatigue and other unpleasant symptoms since.
Anyhow, after feeling like a koala bear all day, I’m getting a small “second wind” (technically my “first” wind), so I decided to shoot you an update in the form of a blog.
First, I want to share with you something exciting. A few months back, I bought a ticket to attend the “We Can Do Hard Things” show by podcast hosts and authors Glennon Doyle, Abby Wambach and Amanda Doyle in New York City. It was a special event I had been looking forward to but feared I might miss due to my sickness. The show date was fast approaching. I waited impatiently for my symptoms to subside. On the day of the show, May 5, my fever and coughs were under control. So, wearing a mask, I rallied and took a two-hour train ride to see my favorite podcast hosts. Yes, I’m one among millions of their beloved “pod squad,” several hundred of whom showed up at their NYC event.
The show started with Tish, the 19-year-old daughter of Glennon and Abby, giving a solo performance of mostly songs that she wrote, plus Bob Dylan’s “The Times They Are A-Changin.”
When Glennon, Abby and Amanda finally appeared—to the cheers of their die-hard fans, they sat by the edge of the stage and dived straight to the tough times all of us found ourselves in. They mentioned their recent work in helping a non-profit organization, Acacia, that provides legal services to small children who were forcefully separated from their parents during ICE raids. Some of them are as young as five. They were asked to represent themselves in court. Judges asked them unreasonable and unanswerable questions, to which the children said, amid tears, “I just want my mommy back!”
After sharing the heart-wrenching stories, the three announced that all proceeds of their tour would be donated to Acacia’s work. The audience applauded in rupture, both for their generosity and for the chance to take part in this meaningful work.
It was at this point that I realized that Glennon’s attention had been focused on something much more urgent than the “storm in a tea cup” here on Substackland. For those who hadn’t heard, Glennon started a Substack newsletter in April and within weeks, attracted about 217,000 subscribers, many of whom paid to participate in her community. But she made her exit quickly after feeling a strong vibe that she was unwelcome by writers who felt threatened by her presence and immediate success. Lots of discussions of her whirlwind tour here continued after she left. I was curious to see if Glennon would mention this at all during the show. But no. She didn’t mention a word.
The “meat” of the show saw Glennon, Abby and Amanda sitting cross-legged on couches, some with shoes off, chatting about the life-altering events that reshaped their lives in the past year. They included Amanda’s breast cancer treatment, Abby’s grief for the death of her brother, and Glennon’s diagnosis of anorexia and her recent treatment in the form of medicinal mushrooms. Besides the last bit, nothing was actually news to the pod squad. But it was still an emotionally charged experience for the pod squad as we got to feel their electric presence and conversations infused with drama and humor. The hosts also opened up the floor for a Q&A.
For a more detailed report, please head over to this New York Times article.
The evening ended with Tish and the entire audience singing the theme song of the “You Can Do Hard Things” podcast. I wish I could sing along, but alas, my voice was completely gone from all the coughing. Here’s a very short clip that captures this sing-along ending of the show:
Rewind to the time prior to my sickness, I was already feeling burnt out from Trump Exhaustion. And then, while I was battling an ongoing fever, I got news that my company had laid off a bunch of employees, many of whom were my favorite people. I grieved for the sudden severing of our ties, and was overcome by anxiety of when I would be on the chopping block next. The message from the company—which echoes Corporate America as a whole—was that we employees are dispensible. Even though such layoffs had happened at the frequency of twice a year, this one still sent shock waves down my spine, and unfortunately, it also set my healing back.
I wrote about a confrontation I had with my bosses in the last newsletter. Soon after, my team was restructured so that I had arrived at the bottom of the totem pole. My long and difficult path toward a promotion seemed to have suddenly disappeared. All the hours and heart poured into my work don’t seem to matter anymore. I was told to try to compartmentalize so that I could go on. But I can’t. I’m terrible at compartmentalization. Attempts to keep me in a box just make me feel demoralized.
It’s Mental Health Awareness Month. The company puts on programs to talk about mental health. It urges us to go to our phone meditation app to get help. Little do they know (or maybe they just pretend not to know) that the kind of work-related stress and depression which I and others are experiencing has everything to do with systemic causes—how the leadership treats staff as dispensable, mishandled the layoffs and communication with employees—and little to do with individual “effort” in getting centered or reducing stress. Outsourcing mental health to a phone app is just lame.
With all of these happenings, I’m left with very little energy to write anything longer than “notes.”
But strangely, I’ve found it less energy-intensive and more relaxing to draw than to write. I wonder if that’s true for you too? Here’s something I doodled while listening to the Mary Trump Live (a way for me to catch up on the day’s news with some emotional support—highly recommended). I decided to use it as my Substack logo until I come up with something better.
The growing season has already started, and I’m immensely frustrated that I haven’t been able to sow seeds in my community garden plots. I and a gardener buddy have planned to start a cut flower garden this Spring, but both of us happen to be out of commission.
Meanwhile, it comforts me to see that out of the many seeds I sowed indoors, one type of flowers made their way to bloom:
Another source of comfort to compensate for my inability to start my vegetable garden at this time is this pot of “window sill salad.” I sowed the seeds two months ago. It turned out to be quite tasty and extremely delicate.
In case you didn’t know, May is also Asian American and Pacific Islander Heritage Month. At work, I and my teammate have organized a few events to celebrate it with the AAPI community at work. Most recently, we invited a chef to teach a mochi-making class. Mochi is a Japanese snack made with glutinous rice powder and stuffed with sweet fillings. Here’s the result of my first attempt to make them. Although the outward appearance is far from smooth, the taste is pretty damn good.
It’s been my experience that whenever I felt despirited or at the brink of despair, picking up a new skill tended to bring me a bit of hope.
Here’s what I’m learning next—painting in the chinoiserie style:
Look forward to sharing my learning process with you in the future.
Until then, I’m back to rest.
Thank you for reading, and be well!
Lily Pond
Thank you for sharing, despite your exhaustion and less than full state of good health. I am happy you got to see our beloved Glennon, Abby & Amanda, and thanks for the clip; I am sorry for the inhumane way corporations treat their people, and you are caught in it; glad though you are finding joy & hope in your windowsill garden and new artistic pursuits. Keep looking for the small delights. They get us through.💗