I don’t think anyone, except a small part of my unconscious self, expected there to be an update to my last newsletter so quickly. Within two hours of sending it, I received an email from a close friend of my mother’s. It started with “I just finished reading your latest newsletter and I must say that it truly upset me.”

I knew what it was going to say. I knew I shouldn’t read it. I knew it would only upset me. But I’m a glutton for punishment.

She went on to say that I was out of line talking about my family. She then went on to list all the things my mother has done for me, for us – my husband and I. As if I’m not aware. As if she wasn’t now doing the exact thing she was scolding me for - divulging information that wasn’t hers to share.

She went on to tell me that comparing my dad’s babysitting skills to the family dog was cruel. That wasn’t the part that hurt though (though it felt like an unnecessary cruel word to use). What bothered me most about this woman and her email is three weeks ago, she texted me asking if I was still writing the newsletter. “I haven’t gotten it in my inbox in weeks,” she said. “I miss it! I love hearing about your life.”

I told her I was still writing it. I sent her the link. She signed up again right away. So what turned from ‘I love hearing about your life’ to “As you mentioned in your article, you felt the need to share your thoughts with your readers. I disagree,” hit me with the force of an open palm with the rings turned.

Then again, I should have seen it coming.

I knew she was subscribed. My mother is not. That’s her way of supporting me. After years, she trusts me. If I had a shrink, she’d tell me I unconsciously wrote it for this woman. I kept her subscribed, as a barominetr. Knowing she’d read it, and I would write it fair.

That’s the argument I pepped myself up with. And when I got messages from women thanking me for sharing, I felt right in my decision. Yet once her email came, I couldn’t remember my reasons. I forgot what I’d done and why I did it. All I felt was the shame and regret of it.

I tried to move on. I told myself she was crazy. Out of line. This was inevitable. Par for the course. Yet as the days wore on, the words, which I read in one quick sweep, seeped in.

When you get a message like this, when someone showers you with their interpretation of your actions, it doesn’t just make you feel bad, it makes you question yourself. Am I a bad writer who has to sell people out? Am I a terrible daughter? Am I a whiny brat? Should I just stop writing? Am I embarrasing myself?

Life is full of criticism. I know this. I signed up for this. One cannot be a writer and expect to have a career without negative feedback. I’m thirty-three. I have two kids. A tired husband who doesn’t want to hear about it anymore. So why can’t I just move on from it? Let it go? Ignore it?

Maybe because the criticism felt personal. She wasn’t attacking my writing, but me. I was cruel. I was ungrateful. I was wrong. Then again, I should also be used to this. Women, not just writers, are overwhemingly predisposed to personal attacks.

In a study analyzing performance reviews across 28 companies, they found female employees were given more negative feedback than their male counterparts, and 76 percent of the negative feedback included some kind of personality criticism, such as comments that the woman was “abrasive,” “judgmental” or “strident.” Only 2 percent of men’s critical reviews included negative personality comments.

At the same time, women take this criticism harder. According to Tara Mohr of The New York Times,

“There’s another, deeper factor that informs women’s relationship to criticism and praise. For centuries, women couldn’t protect their own safety through physical, legal or financial means. Being likable was one of our primary available survival strategies. Disapproval, criticism and the withdrawal of others’ approval can feel so petrifying for us at times — life-threatening even — because for millenniums, it was.”

Women get more negative feedback, internalize it as a threat to their existence, and in turn, stop participating or trying. The perfect example of this was seen in the university entrance exams in Chile.

Until recently, the Chilean exam was designed to penalize students for answering questions incorrectly while awarding zero points if they skipped questions. In that structure, researchers found that women were more prone to skipping questions than men were. But when the education system removed the penalty for answering questions incorrectly, women skipped fewer questions, and the discrepancy between women’s and men’s test scores shrank.

That’s how women lose. We feel bad. We think about consequences and possibilities and things being taken away. We get a small piece of negative feedback and retract. Yet as I continued to wrestle with it, building an another argument in my head to telepathically send this woman, I came to this:

I write about my marriage, you enjoy it, my husband doesn’t. If I write about my kids, you enjoy it, my kids don’t. If I write about my friends, you enjoy it, my friends don’t (or won't). Someone, somewhere, no matter what I write, is going to feel some way. This time, it was you. So what’s the answer?

There’s a million ways to live and react and whichever way we choose, there’s another way to look at it and see it was wrong. At a certain point, you have to ask yourself: If you do something that you want to do but people don’t like it, does that mean you’re wrong? Or does it mean that disappointment is inherent in living your life?

Of course, I still feel bad. I still examine my actions. I still care if I hurt someone. That’s what makes me a writer. That’s what makes me a woman. In the words of Leslie Jamison: “We care because we are porous. The feelings of others matter, they are like matter: they carry weight, exert gravitational pull.” But then I remember who I am, why I did it, what the real circumstances and the facts are, and I hold my ground.

This is one of those pivotal moments. They seem to happen more frequently in adult life. Events, accidents, micro aggressions that you can either move forward or shrink from it.

In this instance, there were two possible reactions.

1. Refund her for her subscription and remove her from the subscriber list and write this.
2. Keep her subscribed and let her read this.

I know what I would have done two years ago. I would have shrunk and walked to a corner with my tail between my legs and stopped writing for a week. Then would have written something inane. Something completely irrelevant to take the heat off.

Today, however, I’m training myself to react in a new way. To slow down, take a moment, digest the situation and decide how I want to respond. Not how someone expects me to respond. Not how someone would like me to respond. Which is why I decided not to unsubscribe her.

Not to be cruel, not for revenge, but because being an adult, being a woman who is secure in herself and her choices, means standing in them. Because it’s taken me years to get here. Because I’m not a bad person. Because I’ve come to the pivotal conclusion I refuse to back down from ever again. And that conclusion is this: It's my choice to write what I want to write. It’s your choice to keep reading.

-Quote of the Week-

“Stop being tormented by everyone else’s reaction to you.”
— Joyce Meyer

-Thought of the Week-

-Lydia Lunch interviewed by Thora Siemsen for SSENSE

-Read of the Week-

In the context of these influences, what allows women to become free of concerns about the reactions they or their work will provoke? I’ve found that the fundamental shift for women happens when we internalize the fact that all substantive work brings both praise and criticism. Many women carry the unconscious belief that good work will be met mostly — if not exclusively — with praise. Yet in our careers, the terrain is very different: Distinctive work, innovative thinking and controversial decisions garner supporters and critics, especially for women. We need to retrain our minds to expect and accept this.

-Learning to Love Criticism by Tara Mohr

-Psychology of the Week-

-TV of the Week-

Season 4 of My Brilliant Friend is out. As someone who read all the books (after watching the first season and discovering the beautiful Italian world of Elena Ferrante), I can say this show is AS GOOD as the books and does an incredible adaption. The books are long, so if you don't have the time to read, the show is the perfect replacement. I cannot tell you how much I love it. It's deep and rich and beautiful and always dramatic (without being overly dramatic).

If you don't believe me, just read The BBC article 'Criminally underrated': Why My Brilliant Friend is one of the best shows on TV

-Quotes for the Week-

“Truly powerful women do not waste time explaining why they deserve respect. They simply do not engage or waste time with those who don’t reciprocate it.”
— Sherry Argov

"Ageless living is courageous living. It means being undistracted by the petty dramas of life because you have enough experience to know what's not worth worrying about and what ought to be your priorities."
-Christiane Northrup, MD