Welcome to Above Average Empath
Edition 1
Welcome to the very first edition of my newsletter, Above Average Empath, the monthly musings of a creative exploring the human condition.
Some of you know me for my music, released under my indie moniker, Sprig. Still, only few know the complexities, the stories, or the depth of the person behind it.
That’s been intentional.
But this year, I’m being brave.
That means sharing more of my authentic self unapologetically. It means no more shrinking to please others. It means getting uncomfortable. It means leaning into what energizes and excites me. It means letting people cringe. It means no longer trying to figure out how to “niche-down” and distill myself to fit into an easy-to-brand box on social media.
With the volume turned up, I’m allowing myself to be the multi-passionate, creative, ambitious, opinionated, and heady person I am.
As James Clear says: “If you wish you would take something more seriously, do it publicly. Social pressure forces you to up your game.”
So, I’ve decided to be brave and launch a fucking newsletter.
Each week, I look forward to reading newsletters from friends and strangers who skillfully share their stories, vulnerabilities, curiosities, and passions. It’s a beautiful peek into someone’s innermost thoughts about what it means to be human.
For over a decade, music has been my go-to creative outlet when I need to process heavy emotions, romanticize, grieve, or seek connection. But approaching year three of a global pandemic, we’re a society lonelier than ever.
There’s no better time than now to put yourself out there, show people who you are, and just maybe — they’ll see a bit of themselves in you and your experiences and feel a little less lonely.
What can you expect from me with this new creative project? Each month (or more frequently—we’ll see), my newsletter and essays will be crafted upon wonder and curiosity, play and pleasure, vulnerability, bravery, unlearning, and self-love.
I will be following wherever my interests take me. If at least one of you reading this walks away feeling a little less lonely, and a little more empowered and seen, then that’s a beautiful win in my book.
Reflecting on ”What Life Would Be Like” EP
A year ago on March 24, 2021, I released what I still refer to as my “first real EP”. “What Life Would Be Like” was the first collection of songs I’d released on Spotify and worked on with a producer and bandmates.
Before its’ release, all other albums of mine were recorded through the mic of my headphones in Garageband mobile and uploaded to Bandcamp haphazardly (in proper DIY fashion).
I was intentional about this release. I contacted press outlets, arranged a photo shoot, created two music videos, made cassette tapes, ordered stickers, optimized all my social and publishing channels, and promoted the heck out of it.
It was a lot of fuss over a three-song EP, but it was important to me.
A week before the release, I’d set a painful but necessary breakup into motion. On release day, I was numb. As kind words from friends, family, strangers and even my ex rolled in, I couldn’t feel any of it. I considered going silent and ignoring the release entirely because I lacked the emotional energy to celebrate.
Emotional numbness is a classic freeze response. It’s paradoxically common in highly sensitive persons and those who feel emotions intensely. Detaching and dissociating is an instinctual coping mechanism that has allowed our primal monkey brains to hold on to a shred of sanity while facing unimaginable threats to survival.
However, a breakup isn’t an unimaginable threat to my survival. It’s just fodder for more wistful indie music.
I once explained that "What Life Would Be Like" is an ode to those who dance in the painful world of "what ifs." It’s about living in dissociation and finding comfort within the mind for the satisfying possibilities it can create.
I suppose it’s only fitting that I was entirely dissociated from myself on my release day for an album about dissociation.
If you need them, here are a few tricks and resources I use for quieting and training the monkey mind:
Learn how to meditate and practice mindfulness
Practice Emotional Regulation through Dialectical Behavior Therapy (DBT)
Practice Radical Acceptance
Become aware of how you contribute to your own suffering
Talk it out with a friend, family member, or therapist
Journal and read it aloud
Learn about Neuroplasticity — spoiler: you can change your brain
Don’t get back together with your ex
On Repeat
Late one night, while catatonic on my bedroom floor staring at the ceiling fan, Spotify delivered this incredible breakup anthem by Mallrat that lifted me off the ground as if it were the voice of God.
“Maybe I’ll fall in love with a rockstar, we’ll be married forever, I’ll forget all about ya, one day. Maybe when I’ve won all the Grammys, and I’ve got my own family, I’ll forget all about ya, one day.”
Rockstar by Mallrat is apathetic yet aspirational. Heartbreaking yet empowering. We can’t know what the future holds for us. That’s what makes new beginnings again after a loss, both difficult and exciting. But this tune perfectly illustrates the hazy hope for the future that swirls around in the post-heartbreak brain fog.
The Fun Bits
Alright, you’ve made it. You’ve reached the catch-all section of my newsletter where I send you off with a goodie bag of internet treats that wowed me over the last month.
Wondering why it’s so god damn hard to make friends as an adult? Because same. Mel Robbins joined an episode of Call Her Daddy to discuss how we’re totally underestimating the roles proximity and patterns play in our ability to build relationships in adulthood.
Clive Thompson created an online tool that lets you see only the questions in a piece of writing and it’s so cool? Thanks to Austin Kleon for putting this on my radar.
If you’re feeling burnt out in your career, Jennifer Armbrust lays out a roadmap for a more sustainable alternative to hustle culture in Proposals for the Feminine Economy. Enjoy that breath of fresh air you didn’t know you needed.
Cringe. Ever get that abrupt feeling of repulsion towards someone you previously were romantically or sexually attracted to? Yeah, that’s called “The Ick”. Thanks TikTok. I can always count on you to normalize my trauma responses.
See you next time!