Why the Iceberg Matters
Our "little" worries carry more weight than we think
Dear Soblings,
I have been so worried about the world. I know you have been, too.
Yesterday I took a big step (for me) and cancelled my Amazon Prime membership. It’s a service I’ve been using for well over a decade, one of my longest term relationships to date. I use it to order so many fricken things, but when I think about the monster I’ve been feeding (even if it’s one piece of $139 kibble) it’s not worth it.
I guess I thought I’d feel better today — I did something! I took a stand.
But instead, I’ve been worried about how I’ll be able to get my favorite Korean Azelaic acid serum.
It’s a $13 serum that had something like 7,000 five star reviews and actually lived up to the hype. Even my boyfriend agrees it’s amazing. He put it on, like, one time and his cheeks immediately glowed. The thought of not having it now that I know how well it works made me feel powerless.
That’s when I realized my worry wasn’t about the serum.
I mean, to be fair, it’s definitely about the serum. But I think the skincare is just the tip of The Iceberg — a totally original ✨metaphor✨ from my book.
When I reflected on why I was so emotional about having this one specific goo in my bathroom, I realized that my worry was also about what it represents. I’ll miss the ease of having it delivered right to my house for “free,” because that’s the behavior of a fabulous, successful person. It’s the luxury of feeling like I’m taking care of myself, looking my best — being a skincare bitch is something I’ve always valued and found comfort in.
And underneath the surface, I’m worried I can’t have those things and make a difference. Even more selfishly, I’m worried things will get worse and someday ordering Korean skincare to my door will feel like a bygone era. I’m worried I won’t be able to afford … anything! And I’m worried that canceling my subscription was like throwing a pebble at a Transformer — *doink*.
This is The Iceberg from my book:
You’ll noticed the “dark unknown of mortality” is pretty far down there because it literally has to be. We can’t live if we’re worrying about dying all the time.
But during our first Let’s F*cking Deal With It Together live video last week, I was reminded that just because something is so far under the surface doesn’t mean it doesn’t matter. There is — and it scares me to write this — a part of me that is afraid I’ll die before things get better. I’ll die crusty and serumless and, worse, having made zero difference by canceling my stupid Amazon subscription.
We, as a society, don’t talk about death very much unless we’re collectively trying to solve someone’s murder, but that fear is there—it’s under the surface for all of us. And it’s normal.
This is why The Iceberg matters.
Worrying begets worrying. I started worrying that my worrying about Azelaic acid makes me a bad person. But when we look at our little worries as the tip of an iceberg, it’s easier to be empathetic.
Swimming around an iceberg (fear of the future, fear of failure, fear of aging) is much harder than swimming around a lil ice cube (serum).
It makes sense to be out of breath.
