The email arrived in my inbox late on a Friday night in the middle of winter 2023.
I had no energy. I was struggling with a difficult article that I should have submitted to my editor weeks ago. As a freelancer, the more time you spend on this, the longer it will take to see another penny in your bank account. I had gone to the dentist that morning. I had a vet appointment for my dog that afternoon. I was worried that she had another ear infection.
I opened the email. It started:
This is the first time I wrote to someone in a personal context without knowing them. You mentioned in this week’s newsletter that you were looking for a place to relax on the coast.
It was true. In my weekly newsletter (my thoughts on this and that and links to cool and interesting articles I’ve read), I ask readers to suggest dog-friendly and budget-friendly places near the ocean. I asked if there was one. My burnout and my dog and literally crashed.
The email is from a woman, I’ll call her Alex. She went on to say:
I’m on my way to get the keys to the cabin I bought on the south coast. Located approximately 150 meters from the beach, the 55 sqm Fibro Majestic is very simple and has just one bedroom. We’ll be cleaning and painting, but then you’re welcome to stay a few days a week for a headspace break. It’s free. I live somewhere else, so you have the place all to yourself.
I waited for the email for several days. I thought about why Alex said he wanted to share Fibro Cottage with me. I thought about personal scars and how scar tissue becomes beautiful when it heals.
she wrote:
Your book helped me get through a traumatic breakup with my ex-husband, who had a similar personality. In return, I will be happy to help.
She was referring to Fake, a book I wrote about understanding traumatic relationships with narcissistic daydreamers who lie about everything.
My goal is for only my children and I to use this house, and I want the people who have helped me over the past few years to have a good time as well. I know some special peeps who don’t have a lot of budget. I think they need some TLC/random acts of kindness. The sociopath who lived next door to me was smart and successful, so his financial well-being was a silver lining to his trauma. I decided I wanted to share some of it in a way that God never does: without any ulterior motives or personal gain.
Alex and I met for coffee. Dinner a few months later. We couldn’t stop talking. We discovered common interests and strangely parallel lives. Over the years, our paths have almost crossed, not crossed, and almost crossed again.
Alex is a kind, soft-spoken artist who has taken some hits in life. “Being human is incredibly difficult,” she said.
The dog and I went to Alex’s Fibro Shack. Late one afternoon, more than a year after she first contacted me, we parked the car, retrieved the keys from my hiding place, and unloaded the car. A text message rang. “Be sure to go down to the beach at dusk,” my new friend wrote.
