With everything everywhere coming at us all at once, my phone quietly lost rank and value in my hierarchy of needs. You can only unsubscribe, unfollow, screen and silence so much. Gone are the days of keeping up with emails, podcasts and current events, or responding to text messages with any sort of consistency. Most of the time I don’t even know where the inanimate beast is, though I’m sure it’s around here somewhere.

We’re living in these weird “unprecedented” oligarchical times where the world is literally on fire, planes are actually falling from the sky, and every notification resembles somebody seeking something, usually money, typically tied to a tragedy on the global/national/regional/ local/personal level. And so many of these are real tragedies y’all. My cycle instructor recently lost everything in a house fire while nine months pregnant with her second kid, no joke. Each petition feels urgent, dire, consequential, personal. It’s a lot to take in and fully process. So in lieu of processing, we tread in this endless feed of consumption just trying not to take in too much sea water. We’re not built for this kind of consumption. I’m constantly battling the need to know MOAR to make it all make sense, and the desire to take in so much less, because less strangely feels like the only more I need.

_{More dogs in a pile.}

On a recent whirlwind road trip to Durango, Colorado, I got a ping from an unknown number I initially mistook as one of those unsolicited hi how are you texts from a scammer bot. I get way more contact from them than people I actually know. But nope, it was a real message from a real person I had met once or twice before, apologizing for judging me in their head. Oof. Been there – living in my head, apologizing to the unassuming passerby for my residency. Felt like something I could put a pin in, having just driven 1300 miles straight to hang out with B’s kid for a few days. Prioritization is the key to survival in the Age of Instant Information. 

Tosh of ten years ago might be consumed by the thought of being judged by someone without being known. But T of today is familiar with being challenged, evaluated and shamed by the peanut gallery. I’ve made my peace with them. It’s become this unexpected gift, dare I say superpower. I mean, I’ve got over a decade’s worth of essays floating in-betwixt all the garbage of the sea and ooo-weee, don’t everyone got sumthin’ to say perched in their own little boat. And waaaaay before influencing became a career children & pets aspired to achieve, I had a brief moment of insta-fame when Instagram did a write-up on me hiking the Appalachian Trail. The minute the train left the station it was clear all sorts of people were going to have feelings about what they thought they knew about me, based on limited half-accurate details and blanks filled in by none other than themselves. Wasn’t really worth clearing up the misunderstandings. I bolted from the train at the next stop, but now it’s the world we all live in, can’t escape it. Pro tip: You can’t do much about the pathway every Tom, Dick and Harold’s Purple Crayon takes and it’s poisonous to add fabricated opinions to your own wild world of whispers.

_{Telluride | May 2025}

When Lily first encountered my mouth gap along with my disinterest in temporarily filling it, she had concerns. Summary: Oh honey, but what if people think you’re a deadbeat tweaker? All good, my friend, those who mind don’t matter, and those who matter don’t mind. Sure, I can no longer pull off my Adam Sandler vibe without looking extremely feral, but people judging me based on appearance alone feels more like a Them problem than a Me problem. And this kind of thing is only going to get worse with AI pioneering our future. I’m building layers of thick artificial skin in preparation for that kind of intelligence. 

On the drive back home while performing out of office maintenance (life mode), the apology text circled back. This time I was able to debate responding, if only not to look like the boogieman or floozy or basic witch she perhaps once imagined me. Who knows, she wasn’t specific about her judgement, just admitted it came from a place of fear and insecurity as she was going through her own life shit at the time. Girl, been there too. 

^{Fred. Perpetually going through life shit.}

I knew of her through my former partner, longtime friend who had implied she wasn’t a fan of mine, but I brushed that off, confused how could she opine at all. We had never even met! I can’t do anything about the Me living in her head. Also, what are you sharing with her, though maybe I had an idea, having once upon a time walked with him through the big D and don’t mean Dallas. Even amicable splits with people you love come with a complicated cocktail of emotions.

Anyway, I didn’t take it personally. When we did meet in real life, I found her to be a brief and delightful phenomenon. Ooo I like her, I told my friend, not knowing it was her-her. When he made the connection, something immediately told me her dislike of me had absolutely nothing to do with me; her vibe and natural instincts overrode whatever script she’d been crafting upstairs. And now, she wanted me to know that too. We’re all on our own timelines co-existing within each other’s.

_{Taking Care of Business | Durango}

A few years prior I was in the awkward position of meeting this same friend’s ex-wife, a place I never imagined being as a raging adult. Eight or nine months in, before meeting her/their kids, she wanted to meet me. 40 years old and subjecting myself to the judgment of another woman about how I live and who I am and if I’m good enough to be around her kids who are around strangers literally all the time. But also, this makes complete and logical sense, no objections here. I’m not a real parent, but sometimes when I learn my dog’s been hanging out with anyone Dog Dad Steve knows I’m like, BUT DO THEY PET HIM RIGHT?? Also, what’s the best way tell a mom you have zero interest in playing the role of mom with her kids, you’re mostly looking forward to the convenience of fewer restrictions. See? Awkward.

We were probably more nervous than we wanted to be, neither of us having had to do this before, equal parts curious and annoyed that we had to, exchanging several texts alluding to the monster in our heads being bigger than the actual “monster” and when we met nothing rang more true. Like meeting an old friend talking about shared circumstances which we kinda only sorta shared but in parallel dimensions. Mutual appreciation for the people we were, the people we weren’t. Almost felt blasphemous talking about the hot topic that bonded us at all. Two people who understood the specific dynamics of the moment in all the right ways.

^{Fred always understands the dynamic of the moment.} 

Back to the apology text. I carefully selected my string of words in response while also pondering the irony of the situation. She’s sharing this information with me as part of her process, but in doing so, theoretically just blew wind into my own primary insecurity sail: everyone actually IS judging me silently in their head.

When Lily read my response she had concerns. Summary: Tosha you can’t say that! I reread my reply again, I had sent it on hour 19/22 of driving straight back from Durango after all, but still couldn’t find anything wrong with it. It’s easy to misinterpret things you’re not directly involved in. Or apply meaning from your life to external events. Not to mention everyone has their own modus operandi. Point being, there’s more than one way to skin a cat.

Anyway, can’t wait to tell her how much she fucked me up if our paths cross again.