Dear Reader,
→ Sunday July 10th, 2022 — 7:23pm EST
I’m not sleeping very well. I wake up 3:01am every single morning and find myself staring at my face in the bathroom mirror hoping to tire myself out enough to get any kind of rest. A psychic once told me this time is when the spirits are trying to contact me. If any spirits are reading this, I need to stop searching for eyes in the darkest corners of my apartment and actually fall asleep. But no. Nope. I’m awake making to do lists of what I need in a to-go bag when something catastrophic happens in the universe. When. It’s not even an if.
Solar powered radio.
Charged external batteries.
Extra sock.
Pocket knife.
Hand-written map.
I used to be heavily into retirement planning but now I’ve shifted into survival mode. I only wear running shoes when I leave my apartment no matter where I’m go or the occasion. I note my exits, the strength and agility it would require to get me, my GF, my dog out of a terrifying situation. I started working out a lot in March and that has carried through to today. I don’t care about swimsuit season. I care that I can lift/knock down/push a barrier if needed.
The last time I felt anxious was maybe 2011.
(before I move on, gun stuff is ahead)
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I was held at gunpoint twice in the span of a year. I was working at The Pleasure Chest in the West Village, and each time I was the only person on the sales floor. The first time was at night before closing. That one rattles me the most because I couldn’t hear what the person was saying so I leaned in cheerfully to ask them to repeat themselves. The tip of the gun was then dug into my stomach and I was asked if I could hear them clearly now. The second time was in the morning. One person held me away from the register, pressing the gun into my back while the other person cleared out the register. I was in grad school at the time and had to get the precinct to write me a note saying why I missed class for two weeks.
For a few years, I would wake up sweating from dreams of figures chasing me. I would cry in my sleep . . . when I could sleep. There were times I couldn’t walk outside without feeling a tightness in my chest and completely paranoid of every single person who got a little too close, who looked at me, who put their hand inside of a bag. I went to therapy for awhile, learned some breathing techniques, tried my best to heal or at least push it away.
It’s 2022, and I had an anxiety attack yesterday because a man in a suit in a Duane Reade looked at me while he clutched and pressed a heavy Chipotle bag to his leg. Out of context from the rest of the story, it’s deeply hilarious. But I was brought right back to 10 years ago when every location, every person, every moment felt unsafe.
I know I’m not the only one who is feeling this.
It’s now Sunday July 10th, 2022 — 8pm EST. I’m in Greenpoint, BK waiting to have dinner with a friend, and DING! An alert on my Citizen app opens to a shooting in Coney Island. 5 people dead. A lot of people live in New York, but I get to say I’m from here. I’m from this city and I’ve never been scared of it. Even 10 years ago, I still took the train, still went to work, still pushed through my fear. The idea of going out now feels a bit broken to me.
So now on top of the chaotic, climate-change threatening planning I do in my head, I overly calculate my every move.
It’s exhausting and yet I am awake.
~ Laura
In Search Of A Good Night’s Sleep
Deep Sleep by Rose LA allows me to sleep through the night without waking up pissed off at the spirits that visit me. They are honestly so annoying. Not recommended dinner guests. But I swear, these CBD gummies are magnificent. I find that I don’t dream with them . . . which is great because it’s like putting a DO NOT ENTER for those asshole ghosts.
Sleep Drops by The Nue Co. is really good. It tastes like a highly concentrated herbal tea that will make your face scrunch up, but it does the trick. This takes a bit longer to have a sleepy affect but when I’m down, I’m out.
Missing Sounds Of The City is great when the night is a little too quiet and I need that hit of NYC noise pollution to remind me that the city will still be here tomorrow.
How To Make Ricotta
As I dive deeper into my personal research of what it means to be Italian, food, of course, has been at the apex of my journey. Ricotta, or riiii-got as my grandmother would say, was always in the refrigerator. Sometimes store bought, sometimes homemade, but always added atop a scorching hot bowl of pasta. If you have a little time (truly, like 30 minutes) you can make some tasty, light, creamy riiii-got of your own. Note: the freshest ricotta lasts maybe 48 hours. It’s definitely suggested to eat the same day it’s made!
8 cups of whole milk
2 cups of buttermilk
2-4 tablespoons of lemon juice
1 teaspoon of kosher salt
1/2 cup of heavy cream
1 cheesecloth or a damp terry cloth
Colander
Small bowl
Large bowl (optional)
→ Line a colander with the cheese cloth or damp terry cloth.
→ If you want to save the liquid, place a large bowl under the colander.
→ Bring the 8 cups of milk to a simmer, stirring every so often.
→ When wisps of steam fly off the milk, stir in the 2 cups of buttermilk.
→ Stir gently for a minute, then remove from the heat.
→ Slowly add the 2-4 tablespoons of lemon juice.
→ Leave alone for a few minutes so the acid can separate the curd from the whey.
→ When ready, pour the contents of the pot into the cheese cloth/terry cloth.
→ Bring up the corners of the cloth and press out the excess liquid.
→ This is very hot so be careful as you press!
→ Transfer the cheese to a small bowl and mix in the 1/2 cup of heavy cream.
→ You’ve made ricotta!
What To Do With The Extra Liquid (Whey)?
This liquid contains lactic acid which can be found in every highly expensive skincare product. So! You can drink it, you can apply it to your face, you can pour it in your hair, you can take a bath in it. Also, you can substitute whey for water when baking bread!
Please Yourself This Summer
My book, “My Pleasure: An Intimate Guide to Loving Your Body and Having Great Sex” speaks about trauma, living in your body, experiencing non-sexual and sexual pleasure, how to speak to your partner, nudes, etc. I love it. I hope you are as well.
→ Sunday July 10th, 2022 — 9:54pm EST
The only reason I caught the ferry home is because it was 11 minutes behind schedule. Thank goodness. I needed a mini win for the night. I still feel anxious like anything can happen at any minute. Who am I to risk the ferry but fear the subway? This shit could sink in the dark for all I know.
But something kind of magical happened. Maybe it’s not that magical. Maybe it’s just right place, right time 11 minutes delayed. A little girl appear to my left while I was sitting on a southbound ferry. She had the brightest, sweetest smile I have ever seen. Like, radiating. “Hi! Can I sit with you?!” I jumped right into my talking to little kid voice and enthusiastically said, “BUT OF COURSE! Please sit with me!”
(For a moment, I thought my anxiety has manifested into a tiny child that only I could see . . . I mean, that’s a possibility even now as I write this).
She laughed and said “Thank you!” I was immediately struck by how open and confident this kid was. She must have been 7? Maybe 6 years old. And she was wearing this gorgeous red dress with golden pendants along the front.
Whenever interacting with a child, I mentally tell myself not to make reference to their looks i.e. “You’re such a pretty girl” because, well, obviously. We should all consider not doing that. The only reason I noticed her hair was because it felt purposely pulled back in a half-pony to show off her smile. As if the universe knew how much warmth and kindness it gave off. “My name is Hasma! What’s your name?”
“I’m Laura. Lovely to meet you Hasma!”
“I love your tattoos. They’re so colorful! Especially this one!”
Hasma pointed to the heart tattoo on my left arm, the one with a naked lady. I had a minor stress moment but ran with it. “Thank you! I like her super close to me. She’s like a little guardian of mine.” We talked for maybe 3 minutes about how she loves to ride bikes with her parents on the weekends. I hung on her every word and smiled so hard at everything she had to say. Just then, another child and a woman walked from the top of the ferry downstairs to see myself and Hasma having the most enthusiastic conversation. They both smiled at me as Hasma said, “Mom! This is Laura. We’re talking about how I love my bike.”
“Mom! Come sit!”
I joined. “Yeah, Mom! Come sit! Hasma has been telling me all about her trips to the park.”
As Mom sat across from me with Hasma and the other child, she laughed and said “Hasma loves her bike and she’s very good at it.” I turned to the other girl and said, “What do you like to do?!” She launched into her love of art — watercolor being her favorite. Then she goes “Are you here by yourself?” I said yes. I was seeing a friend tonight in Brooklyn BUT I had to leave my dog at home — which then, of course, I showed off pictures of Mona to an audience of awhhhhss!
Mom asked if I was having a good night. I replied, “Yeah, it’s been pretty nice. But the three of you . . . truly making my night.” Hasma and her smile entered right back into the conversation. “We’re celebrating! It’s Eid! So we wear these dresses!” Every sentence was declarative and bold and so filled with happiness. Mom jumped in: “If Hasma had her way, she would bike in this dress!” We laughed as we heard the ferry operator call out Dumbo for the next stop. They wished me a good night and I bid them an excellent celebration and holiday as they made their way to the front of the ferry.
Hasma wasn’t scared. She wasn’t worried. She didn’t look around in fear. As I was processing the most magical late night experience, I saw her turn to find me with her eyes. She smiled so big and said, “Bye Laura!" and waved as she stepped out of the seating area and towards the dock with her family. “Bye Hasma!” Even if the experience wasn’t real . . . even if Hasma was a figment of my imagination . . . even if I was dumb-smiling at a cool kid and her family at now 10:10pm on a Sunday night along the East River, I didn’t care. The encounter felt big to me, someone who was holding onto a lot of fear. Hasma’s only responsibility was to be happy and open to the newness around her, and here I was probably 30 years her senior making to do lists of the whens. Neither one of us knows what’s going to happen tomorrow, next week, next year, etc etc. But I’m going to try to find some solace in this interaction with Hasma, who saw all the good in asking another human if she could sit with them.
Good Night
I’m going to go take a sleeping gummy and knock out for the day. I hope you’re all sleeping or trying to find rest where you can. There is just too much going on. But, hopefully we can all think about our 6-year-old selves today and what they would like to see from us now. I think Little Laura would be proud and excited to sit with me.
Hey Laura is a short newsletter dedicated to body image, sad stuff, joy, sexual wellness, life, butts, confidence, essays, fatness, crying until you're a puddle of DNA, embarrassment, and so much weirdo stuff.
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