Come As You Are Podcast

No one has ever heard a podcast episode this good. It’s amazing, people are saying it’s incredible — they’ve never heard anything like it in their entire lives. Can you imagine speaking about yourself like you were the most amazing person ever to grace planet earth — meanwhile you’re just a mean old windbag who thinks Hannibal Lecter was an asylum seeker? Someone pass the fava beans.This week I read the essay and then talked about lying. It fascinates me when people lie with conviction, or knowingly support people who lie — without a hint of remorse or hesitation. There are reasons good people might have a hard time saying true things, and I talked about that, too. Ultimately, though, if you want to have meaningful relationships, calling things what they are is part of the deal. It’s also grounding if you grew up with chaos and violence, or spent time trying to make everything okay for everyone all the time. The truth isn’t always easy, but dealing with things as they are is a lot easier than pretending things are okay when they aren’t — or pretending this president should be compared to Jesus Christ. Jesus Christ. That was not a typo.“And you shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free.”Sending you a lot of love, friends. Happy Easter if you celebrate. Happy Sunday if not. Either way, thank you for your kind attention to this matter. Come As You Are is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. Thank you for being here xo This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit allyhamilton.yogisanonymous.com/subscribe

I’ve been feeling weird about the podcast lately, like I wasn’t sure if I should keep doing it, or if I should change the format and get a co-host, or if anyone was listening, and then I just realized there are stats, haha. I don’t know why I didn’t think to check sooner, the dashboard has stats on everything. I just tend not to look. Anyway, I found the stats, but then I was like, I have no clue what a good number of downloads would be for a podcast episode in the first 7 days, so these stats don’t help me. Then I remembered Google, and it seems like I should keep doing this, apparently. So thanks to those of you listening to me spouting off about this crazy time we’re living through, and I hope it makes you feel less alone if you feel alone sometimes, because I know I do. There are days I feel defeated, and other days I feel enraged — and on good days I feel determined, resolute, hopeful, full of the productive kind of fire, and ready with a side of gallows humor. Seemed like a good time to say thank you for crying with me, laughing with me and spending some of your precious time with me. I don’t take it lightly. This episode is about cleaning out my childhood home, having a different definition of being “ready to move in three days” than my brother, finding letters from my dad that elicited some big feelings, and letting those feelings flow. It’s also about Sara Bareilles, dead carcasses in strange places, Plato, and why we need to send all the billionaires packing. Sending you lots of love, friends.Come As You Are is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit allyhamilton.yogisanonymous.com/subscribe

In this week’s episode, I dug into the idea that people are not a monolith; how we’ll get into trouble every time we conflate the president/leader/head-of-state with all the people who live in their country. It’s clear as day when you think about the (not) United States. Of the 342 million of us who live here, only 77 million voted for this president (I say “only” though I find it astounding there are 77 million people who thought this man was fit to lead). 74 million people voted for Harris/Walz, millions of others did not cast a vote at all, and millions more (anyone under 18, or not a U.S. citizen) were not eligible to vote. It would be inaccurate at best to say “Americans” support this president and the things he says and does, or that “they” are in favor of this war in Iran.It’s the same in any country. There were a lot of keyboard warriors talking about how the Iranian people felt when I woke up the morning after the president announced Operation Epic Fury. You can’t even put forty people in a room and have any reasonable expectation they will all agree about politics, life, ethics, or where you can find the best pizza, so why would anyone think you could talk about millions of people as if they have one mind? It is a wild and unfortunate pastime.There’s such a desire to reduce people quickly, to try to sort them into one box or another: the box of people who think like me (check!) versus the box of people I despise and shall now berate or cease to acknowledge. It’s a hashtag philosophy that makes it easy to other people, which is usually the thing the hash-tagger is railing against in the first place. Meanwhile, children are dying. The world has gone mad when you are only supposed to care about some children dying, and not others. If you can see children dying and go about your business, something has gone very wrong. Maybe it’s a defense mechanism and you are protecting yourself from the trauma of it all, but if you are someone who is affected when some children die, but not others, I would encourage you to please examine that. Any of us could have been born anywhere. You’re a citizen of your country because that’s where your parents happened to end up, and at some point some number of years ago, some man drew lines on a map and named the place where you live. It’s likely a lot of people died so those lines could be drawn, and if there are resources in your country, we can safely bet some other “leader” of a country with a strong militia has tried to come and take those resources from you in the name of “freedom” lol/sob/wtf. Sorry to be the one to say, lines on a map are utterly meaningless because none of us own any of this. We’re on a tiny planet in one solar system in a vast universe. Your president didn’t make this planet, and one day soon he’ll die. Your prime minister didn’t make it, either, and one day soon they will die. Your Supreme Leader didn’t make it, and one day soon he’ll die, too. Ashes to ashes.War and destruction is all b******t. People posturing, mostly violent, greedy men. When the time comes, none of the clothes in your closet will go with you. Your house, however big or small? It stays, you go. The tree in your front yard that you call yours? Not yours. Children are sacred. Love is sacred. The time we get here is a gift, and we should be spending that time in awe. In celebration. Making art, making friends, caring about each other, staring up at the trees, and at night, staring up at the moon and the stars. Holding someone’s hand. Swimming in a creek, digging our toes in the sand. Traveling. And always, taking care of the most vulnerable among us.War is the most ignorant, vile form of ingratitude and stupidity anyone could ever undertake with the tiny blink of time they get on this gorgeous tiny blue dot, where we have everything we need to survive, if only we weren’t so dumb, and if only we would stop giving power to weak little boy-men who have no clue what they ought to be doing while they’re here. The gall of blowing this place up when it isn’t theirs. The gall of killing children and acting like it can’t be helped. They didn’t grow those babies or push them into this world, did they? Meanwhile, children are dying on our watch. It’s well past time we make it stop.Come As You Are is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. I appreciate your re-stacks so much, and always love meeting you in the comments section xo This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit allyhamilton.yogisanonymous.com/subscribe

I was going to send the podcast episode with a micro essay as usual, but I have been hit with a blinding migraine so I’m going to keep this short. Side note — once I read that migraines are caused by “too many thoughts” and I suppose that could be true.It makes me very sad and also enraged, that every time I write about the countless experiences I had with predatory men as a little girl and a teenager and a young woman — and continue to have as a grown woman (with the added horror of having to worry about my teenage daughter out in this mess) — there is a deafening chorus of women in the comments saying, Me, too.I wonder who we would all be if we did not have to spend so much energy assessing our surroundings all the time, and wondering whether we are safe — safe in a literal, physical sense — but also safe to express ourselves, to say no, to speak up, to take up space, to not waste so much time questioning our worth, to not have to fight so hard for basic things like respect, dignity and bodily autonomy — while simultaneously being expected to hold up the sky. I wonder who we’d be if we could jog at 5am or 9pm without thinking twice, if we could walk through an empty parking lot without glancing over our shoulders, if we could walk down a desolate street without feeling the need to put our keys between our fingers, if we could leave our drinks unattended when we’re out with friends…Why do they never ask what men were wearing?I wonder who we’d be if we were believed when something bad happened, when a man did a thing that is painful to repeat, let alone to have lived through. I wonder who we’d be if we could pass a man on a hiking trail and not worry if there was no one else in sight. I wonder who we’d be if the names they redacted were the names of the children, not the horrific men who hurt them.I wonder who we’d be if the good men in our lives worked a little bit harder to show us we aren’t in this fight alone — because it feels that way too much of the time.Maybe we’d smile more. Sending love to anyone having a tough time right now. None of this is easy, but we are not delicate, and we have each other. That’s a lot. Come As You Are is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit allyhamilton.yogisanonymous.com/subscribe

I’ve been having vivid nightmares lately, and they have a theme: I’m out somewhere, and suddenly someone is threatening me. Last week, I was pushing a baby carriage in a place that wasn’t familiar. It was nighttime, and I was walking next to a hotel. A man passed me and I knew he intended to hurt me, the way you know things in a dream. I picked up my pace and glanced up at the hotel to see if anyone was on any of the balconies, but they were empty. I looked over my shoulder, and sure enough, the man had paused. When we made eye contact he started running toward me, eyes wild. I screamed. I screamed so loudly I woke my dog.Last night I had a similar dream. I was in some kind of village, but everyone was dressed like it was Colonial times. It’s my subconscious, what can I tell you? There was a furious woman chasing me. I ducked into a store. There were rows of bookshelves almost to the ceiling, there was a huge, empty birdcage for sale in a corner, there were umbrellas in a stand — more likely parasols if I was dreaming realistically — or so Google tells me. I ducked behind one of the huge shelves, and peeked around the corner in time to see the woman come bounding through the doors. She knew exactly where I was. I understood she intended to kill me, I didn’t know why. I looked down and realized I had a pole in my hands, so held it up and yelled at her to stay away from me! Woke the dog, again.You don’t have to be an oneirologist to catch the drift. I’m feeling vulnerable, like there are threats coming from every side. The baby carriage represents, no doubt, some feeling I have that I can’t keep my kids safe. No one being on the balconies is the disappointment I feel in people who are going about their lives as though everything is normal. Finding myself in Colonial America is (almost) hilarious. I have to give my subconscious an A+ for use of metaphor. Maybe tonight I’ll dream of Joan of Arc.On the plus side, the moment I open my mouth to yell, I yell. This is new. For most of my adult life, if I have a nightmare and want to scream, no sound comes out. This is a terrible feeling, whether you’re awake or asleep. The feeling of being in imminent danger and wanting to call for help, only to find you cannot make a sound? I take it as a positive change that now when I go to scream in my dream, I scream in real life — it took me years but I have finally found my voice. Perhaps not a positive development for the dog, but I like to think I make it up to him in a million other ways.There are good reasons to have some hope. Liam Conejo Ramos and his father are home. I take this as the most tangible and joy-affirming evidence that our loud, unwavering refusal to accept the inhumanity and lawlessness of this administration — works. It might not work as quickly as we’d like, but it works — and so does our judicial system, some of the time. Democratic U.S. Representative from Texas Joaquin Castro has been working tirelessly on their release. He went to Dilley Detention Center to meet with Liam and his dad Adrian while they were detained. He traveled with them from Texas back to Minnesota. Their attorney, Mark Prokosch, is continuing to represent them. There is a gofundme for Liam and his family if you are able to contribute any amount, it’s going to be a long road. There are judges like the Honorable U.S. District Judge Fred Biery. In his Opinion and Order granting a Writ of Release to Liam and his father, he did not hold back. I encourage you to read his Opinion in full, and I propose we call him Fiery Biery from this day forward. Yes, “Biery” is pronounce “beer” “ee” and no, I don’t care. Here is just a taste:“Observing human behavior confirms that for some among us the perfidious lust for unbridled power, and the imposition of cruelty in its quest, know no bounds and are bereft of human decency. And the rule of law be damned.”We shall see what happens with the DHS bill. The Epstein files are horrific. There’s too much coming at us every day, and no one can keep up, which is the point. It seems 37% of our population is still supporting this administration for reasons that boggle the mind. They seem to feel fine if the Constitution guarantees their rights, but no one else’s — certainly not liberals, immigrants, Black or brown people, or anyone in the LGBTQ community — and also most women, generally. Maybe they’d make an exception for a few people they know, but probably not.Here is a funny thing about strangers. When we walk out the door in the morning, we’re all strangers to most of the people we encounter. We don’t know a thing about them — what they’ve been through, what they’re going through right now, what keeps them up at night. If you crossed paths with either of my children today, it’s likely you would not know they are mine — but they mean everything to me, and I hope with my entire heart that you would treat them the way I would treat your most precious people if we met somewhere, somehow. We all need a kind st

We don’t even get a day to recover anymore, which is the plan and the point. They want to exhaust people like you and me, people who are heartbroken, scared and furious — so we become overwhelmed beyond comprehension, and stop raging. I don’t know what they think. Maybe they imagine we won’t post videos anymore, we’ll stop talking to one another, stop protesting. This is how an organized crime gang would behave if they moved into a neighborhood and wanted to make sure we understood they were in charge now. They’d let one of their own murder a mother of three in cold blood, and not worry about the videos with the five different angles, the slow motion renderings, the 3D models. They’d block local law enforcement from the scene, tamper with evidence, and allow the killer to walk free. They’d hide him, even. They’d send a puppy-executioner to tell a fictional, insulting tale about what happened, without even bothering to get the glaring facts right. Later, when the autopsy results showed she had a pulse for eight long minutes while her wife sat on the ground, sobbing into their dog — eight minutes they refused to allow a doctor to check on her — they’d just shrug. Then they’d sit back and laugh, watching their zombie-apocalypse-followers repeat the party line.Before we could wrap our heads around that, we’d see photos of a sweet, tiny boy in a light blue bunny hat being loaded into an ICE vehicle, a giant gloved hand on his back. They’d lie about that, too. They’d say his dad was here illegally, his whole family was — and not worry about the fact that it isn’t true. Because facts don’t matter, and they know it. They can just say a thing is true. I don’t even think their followers believe it — they understand the game. Daddy tells you what he wants you to say, or he sends Noem, Miller, Hegseth, Leavitt, or Vance to do his bidding. It doesn’t matter, they all spit venom the same, and you take your orders like a good soldier. Yes, Daddy. Understood, Daddy. We’ll go drive those left-wing liberals crazy, Daddy, hahahaha. Will you make us another AI video shitting on them later as a treat?Then they get on the internet and say black is white or wrong is right or good is bad or these people are getting what they deserve and soon America will be white again — like it or not you woke-ass whiners, why don’t you just leave if you hate it here so much?I don’t know to what degree you have to hate yourself to give your blind loyalty to a man who would step directly onto your head if it was in his way, but it must be a lot. I guess the rage must run so deep, you can look at an innocent little boy who is surely traumatized by now — and feel nothing — and be willing to make up stories about his family so you can laugh at devastated strangers on the internet. You can say it was his dad who abandoned him, or that his mother wouldn’t open the door and that’s why this happened, and what were these kindhearted, patriotic ICE agents supposed to do? Drive away and leave him on the doorstep with his mom right on the other side of the front door, begging them to do exactly that, while her husband screamed at her not to open the door — because if she did, they’d take her, too — and then who would be there when their middle school tween got home? You can watch a man shoot a woman in the face three times because of his teeny, weeny, peeny ego, and side with him, and feel not even a flicker of sadness for her, for her three children, for her wife, her parents, or her dog. You just don’t care. She should have stayed home, like you. She shouldn’t have given a crap about her neighbors, then she’d be alive.How about now, I wonder? Alex Pretti is getting dangerously close to someone you’d almost like, minus the liberalism and caring about your neighbors part. He was all heart and courage and kindness, so nothing like you, but you catch my drift. If you’d passed him on a hiking trail, you might not have been sure. He’ll never go hiking again, though. Tall, young, white, thirty-seven-year-old lawful gun-owner with a permit to carry. Totally legal in Minnesota. So now what. Now they’ve executed a white man who believed in the Second Amendment. It doesn’t matter, though. These folks will play whatever game their Daddy wants. A couple of weeks ago they were screaming that Renee Nicole Good should have stayed home, minding her own business. Then she’d be alive. Same people who have no problem that Kyle Rittenhouse drove twenty miles to go to a protest and involve himself in other people’s business. Hypocrisy runs through their veins in place of blood, it’s how it is.Today, a lot of these people were screaming that Alex Pretti put his hands on federal agents and then went for his gun — but he absolutely did not. This is getting so old and tired. This is a painful and horrifying execution, so do not watch unless you have the resources to do that right now, or feel the need to see for yourself. He was there filming. An ICE agent initiated contact with hi

This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit allyhamilton.yogisanonymous.com/subscribe

This week’s episode is about men who hate women and the women who love them. It’s about people (mostly men) screaming at me in all caps that the division and violence in our country is due to rhetoric from “radical left lunatics” like me — and not because we’ve reached a point where 30% of the people in our country would not care if I got shot in the face three times for worrying about my neighbors. They would shrug and say I should have thought about my kids, stayed home, and minded my own business — then I’d still be alive. That’s what they said about Renee Good. That’s what they’re saying about women who are trying to take care of their communities. We’re the problem. What a shock. These are MAGA men, and the women who support them, and I got a very unpleasant taste of the way they think under an essay I wrote recently. There was no room to talk about violations of the Fourth, Fifth and Fourteenth Amendments, no willingness to look at actual examples of ICE agents grabbing people from their legal immigration appointments, rappelling out of a helicopter and into a building in Chicago, busting down doors without a warrant anywhere in sight. No ability to talk about children zip-tied and thrown into the backs of U-hauls, some of them U.S. citizens. No conversation about the ways this has been happening for a year.They just wanted to scream at me.People are filming ICE raids for a reason. Nonviolent protest and civil disobedience are as old as Jesus Christ, as any Christian who read the Bible would tell you. So is state-sanctioned murder. Rosa Parks was protesting and committing an act of civil disobedience when she refused to give up her seat on the bus. Should she have stayed home, minding her own business?People filming ICE agents are not trying to impede or harass anyone, they’re trying to keep their neighbors safe, and they are thinking about their children. They’re thinking about what kind of world they’re going to inherit if we’re going to allow a Mad King to overtake our democracy.Greenland and every NATO country is looking at us in shock, horror, and utter despair. Anyone who loves this country ought to feel the same. Men who hate women should never be in power. They are violent and they do not understand consent. Not when it comes to women and girls, not when it comes to countries who do not want to be owned by us.Renee Good should still be here. She would be if an angry man with a gun hadn’t decided to defend his fragile ego because two queer women were too relaxed for his liking, not impressed by him, not intimidated. There’s no such thing as “toxic empathy” — there’s just empathy, and you have it, or you don’t. There is such a thing as toxic masculinity, though, and it sounds like calling someone a “f*****g b***h” after you shoot her in the face three times. All this and more on the pod. Grateful for the men who like and respect women (because, duh), grateful for the people who care about their neighbors, all of them. Stay safe out there as best you can. We love you, Minneapolis. And always grateful for the fantastic, brilliant, strong women in my life — and all women and girls of every background everywhere. Don’t let the b******s get you down.Sending you love.Come As You Are is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit allyhamilton.yogisanonymous.com/subscribe

This week’s podcast episode is full of heartbreak and fury. It’s about Venezuela, Greenland, Colombia, Cuba, and Canada. It includes The Monroe Doctrine, The Roosevelt Corollary, the Authorized Use of Military Force, a screeching Stephen Miller, and an administration with no qualms about doing/taking/killing what it wants — ethics, decency, truth, and the Constitution be damned. It’s about January 6th, five years ago, and how we should have stopped this, then. Most of all, though, it’s about Renee Nicole Good, which means it’s about all of us.I feel sick and have for days. Pretty sure I’m afflicted with toxic shock syndrome, but not the kind we’ve been warned about. I sent my essay out into the ether last week as I do every week. There is one platform where I have a business page with a lot of people (fb) that used to be a place where community happened, where people could have conversations and even disagree without losing their minds, but that is no longer the case. I don’t spend a lot of time there anymore, I simply have the page connected to my other meta account (insta), so when I post on one, it shows up on the other.I started getting alerts from fb quickly. Some of the comments in the thread underneath were so lacking in empathy they made me feel sick in my soul, as if I was talking to people who had been infected by a virus that caused contempt to run through their veins.We’ve reached a point in our country where the people who did not vote for this president cannot have meaningful conversations with people who are in support of the current administration — and in my case, it is not for lack of trying. I have tried. I tried again this week. I keep trying because I don’t know how we fix things if we can’t talk to each other, but the vitriol and smug disdain coming from the 30% of the country who voted for this and are still in support of it — toward people like me who are devastated by what is happening, is breathtaking and horrifying. Truly, y’all are not okay. One man called my business number to say I should not block people. I blocked people who were screaming expletives at me, or hurling insults. Imagine being so entitled you call a woman’s business line because you’re butt-hurt she won’t allow people to be abusive to her on her own damn page. Get a grip, sir.It is legal and a First Amendment right to film ICE raids occurring in public places, and if you don’t understand why concerned citizens are doing that, then you have not been paying attention to what is happening at many of these ICE raids, or you do not care. The second option would be worse. As a small example, Kristi Noem described what happened to Renee Good two hours after she was murdered — like this: She said ICE agents were “snowed in” and “surrounded by angry rioters” and Renee was “ramming her vehicle into them” and the ICE agent was in fear for his life and the lives of the other agents, so he shot her.Then you look at the footage of all the people who were there filming, and thank god they were, because that is not. what. happened. That’s why people go and film, so there’s a record. They are not there to impede, they are there to bear witness and to make sure there’s accurate documentation of what occurs. In too many instances, ICE agents are using excessive force, they don’t identify themselves, and they refuse to say where they’re taking people. Sometimes it’s the people observing who de-escalate a situation, by making sure the ICE agents know they’re being filmed. People are grabbed so quickly they don’t have a chance to call anyone, so they might yell out the name and number of their mom, their wife, their attorney. There were no “angry rioters” on the block where Renee and Becca Good were parked, a few blocks from their house — there were neighbors, filming and observing. Why? Because immigrants in our country are also entitled to due process under the law and some people care about that. There are a lot of hard-working, tax-paying immigrants in our community, mothers and fathers, grandmas and grandpas, people who have been here for decades, many of whom have been doing it “the right way.” Sometimes they get grabbed directly from their legal immigration appointments.No one is being paid to care about their neighbors or their communities. People are not being “trained to weaponize their vehicles.” Left-leaning people do not want hardened criminals walking around their neighborhoods, that’s a lie. It is really something being yelled at about law and order from people supporting an administration that violates the Constitution every day. The gaslighting and hypocrisy are exhausting. It was made very clear to me that there were people in the comments on fb who would not shed a tear or have a kind thought for my children if I was filming an ICE raid to try to help my neighbors, and an agent decided to shoot me in the face three times. They would shrug and say, she got what she deserved. Why wasn’t she home, minding her own busi

Friends, a quick hello on Day 3 of this new year, or Day 4 if you get this Sunday morning. We will not be counting the days of this year generally, just these first few because it’s wild that it’s only Day 3 and … yeah. There are some new people in the mix and in our midst, so I want to welcome you all with a lot of love, and thank you so much for being here. Also, I want to let you know I do a podcast every week, after the essay, and after I’ve had time to meet you in the comments section — which is one of my favorite places to be. Often I’ve had time to ponder further based on what you’ve shared, so I think about the podcast as a co-creation and a conversation we’re having. I may eventually move it to the app so we can see each other in real time if you’re around while I record. I genuinely treasure getting to know you. That will become clear if it isn’t already. Maybe you like podcasts, maybe not. There are a few I love, but I only have time to listen if I’m driving somewhere, so I get it. We are all inundated. But, maybe you do a lot of driving, or maybe you like a voice in the background while you’re folding laundry. Fair warning, I cry during episodes possibly more than most people with podcasts. I cry easily these days and have since my mother died. Maybe it’s grief, maybe it’s hormones, maybe it’s being relatively sane in a world that is heartbreaking too much of the time.Okay, thus ends this session of hello and podcasting with Ally, thanks for coming. Now we can talk about this particular episode and also how unhinged the president is. Fantastic.Why not end the longest year ever with back-to-back trips to the Social Security Office and the DMV? How could you have a car registered to your name, but the wrong VIN number attached — for four years? Why isn’t there an opt-out button that triggers a trap-door with a fun slide that takes people directly to a grown-up sleep-away camp where we could all go when the world feels like too much?I dug into all those questions and more in this episode about why some of us struggled mightily in 2025. The discussion includes love of the Constitution, the three branches of government, our checks and balances, the Supreme Court, and the free press…and the heartbreak of watching all of those guardrails of our democracy fail one by one, simultaneously. The biggest heartbreak of all was the collusion required for that to happen. Feel as you may about the Founding Fathers, I think it’s safe to assume they never imagined a world where so many Americans would pledge fealty to a man so lacking in ethics and morals, betraying the country they claim to love and the Constitution they swore to uphold.I talked about due process, ICE raids, the attack on DEI, the LGBTQ community, women’s rights, the increase in the number of abortions since Roe was overturned, the increase in maternal and infant mortality rates in states with restrictive abortion bans, the hypocrisy of causing people grave harm with no compassion or empathy in the name of Christianity. Those are just a few reasons some of us had a hard time last year.And here on day 3…it looks like we’ll have plenty to deal with in 2026. (Side note, it’s not a new thing for America to decide it’s time for a regime change somewhere in Latin America. Some of you are young, so maybe it’s your first time witnessing a president decide he doesn’t need congressional approval to kidnap a dictator in the dead of night, but I am old enough to remember George H.W. Bush doing this very thing in 1989. See: Noriega! We’ll get back to this because there’s so much to unpack. The Monroe Doctrine, The Roosevelt Corollary, The War Powers Resolution, and the Authorized Use of Military Force, just to get us started. But if you think two things can’t be true at once, for example — Maduro was terrible for the people of Venezuela, and in the simplest of terms he is a not a good man and, it is an abuse of power and a terrible idea to use military force to oust dictators/overthrow governments from countries with resources we want, and then “take them over” with no plan except “we want their oil”I’d say you might want to think again.) Anyhoo, friends, we’re off to a wild, destabilizing start, but that’s how this “peace president” — the one who wasn’t going to get us into any more foreign wars — likes and wants it. Someone pass the FIFA peace pipe I guess. My heart goes out to the family members of civilians who died in Venezuela last night, and those who are scared for their loved ones. It goes out to the family members of our military who are being led by a president who has no qualms about making it known we are there for the oil and there is no clear strategy beyond that. It goes out to anyone who wonders how we are supposed to do this for another three years. One hint: don’t do that to yourself. Take it one day at a time. Take it one step at a time, one phone call, one email, one kind word, one supportive text, one hilarious meme, one thoughtful card,

As the holidays approached this year, I started seeing a lot of people in my feeds expressing the desire to “quiet quit” the whole endeavor. People wondering if they could opt out, not have the big extended family dinner, get a “Charlie Brown” Christmas tree, stay in pajamas. I saw this across all holidays — whatever people normally do around whatever holidays they celebrate, they wanted to do the easiest, most stress-free version.For some people it was financial, they did not have the means to buy presents and go to parties, they didn’t want to show up empty-handed or have to explain that times are tough and they’re saving for health insurance. For others it felt too forced to try to pull joy out of the hat in the midst of so much suffering and mental exhaustion.If you’re someone who voted for (gestures wildly and unfathomably) this painful mess we’re in, maybe the holidays were great for you? For those of us who never wanted any of this cruelty, and could not imagine voting for a president who said people were eating cats and dogs, or — you know what? the list of things this man has said and done is so insane, and each one of them should have disqualified him, so — for those of us he called members of the “radical left scum” as part of his lovely Christmas Day message, let us say we had to dig deep to find the holiday cheer.As we approach the end of this fever dream of a year and head toward 2026, I am thinking about the things that are and have been heartbreaking and exhausting, and also the reasons I have hope, and know in my heart we are going to be okay. I know we are. If you have also had a very hard time this year, if you’re tired of the insanity and don’t know how we’re going to get through it for another three years, I’ll tell you how: we’re going to get through it together. We’re going to remember we are all neighbors. Those of us who are likeminded are going to show up for each other in every way we can. We’re going to be the helpers. “When I was a boy and I would see scary things in the news, my mother would say to me, ‘Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping.’”―Fred RogersHappy New Year, friends. Or, “Here comes a New Year!” if that feels more apropos for now. I am so grateful to head into this next year with you. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit allyhamilton.yogisanonymous.com/subscribe

Voiceover by the fantastic Andi Arndt I went to see It’s a Wonderful Life on Christmas Eve — they play it on the big screen at a theater near us every year — and if that film fails to put you in the holiday spirit you probably have to give up for the season and try again next year. It’s a strange year for all the reasons, so I think there are a lot of us trying. I love Jimmy Stewart. One of his other films, Harvey, is one of my favorite films of all time. If you haven’t seen it, Stewart plays a man named Elwood P. Dowd whose best friend is a huge white rabbit named Harvey who no one else can see.Jimmy Stewart loved the film, too. He loved playing Elwood, a man with no guile who was kind to everyone, and he loved Harvey so much that he doodled him on napkins and scraps of paper for the rest of his life. He’d write “Harvey” underneath, and sign them. One year for my birthday, one of my best friends got me a framed print of one of those doodles. I’m not a shopper, I don’t go in for jewelry or handbags or fancy dinners out, but that doodle is one of my prized possessions. Also, I can’t recommend the film enough if you want to feel good about human beings for a little while, which I always do. I want to feel good about human beings now more than I ever have.I grew up watching Mr. Rogers Neighborhood, and sometimes I think we should all start watching episodes again. My mother could never understand my obsession, she thought the show was so boring. This middle-aged man coming through the door singing about how we’re all neighbors, and asking if I’d be his neighbor, too? Unhurriedly taking off his jacket or raincoat and hanging it up, putting on his cardigan, then swapping his outside shoes for sneakers and tying them while he talked about nothing in particular? For the life of her, she could not figure out why I was rapt at four years old, five years old, six years old. I loved him.We all did as far as I know, I rarely meet any Gen Xer who didn’t grow up feeling like they were partially raised by Fred Rogers. Most of us had parents who needed to be reminded we existed at 10pm, and there he was, taking us on little field trips to learn about the Post Office, or teaching us to think about how things were for other people. Elwood P. Dowd is like Fred Rogers, except he likes to go to the bar. There are all kinds of theories about the film and why he’s seeing a huge white rabbit (a púca). I won’t ruin it for you if you haven’t seen it, I’ll just say I think Harvey is real because that’s what I choose to think — in the context of the entire thing being a film where everyone is a fictional character, of course. I’m not insane.People believe all kinds of things because that’s what they choose to do. I saw a clip on Instagram of Mary and Joseph in couples’ counseling. Joseph was upset because he was feeling erased. Mary said it wasn’t her fault, the Angel Gabriel showed up and said she was pregnant with God’s baby, what was she supposed to do? Joseph said he was just a blip in their story now. Just a sheepherder, shoveling s**t all day. If someone ever wrote a book about them — at which point Mary interrupted and said no one was ever going to write a book about them — and I snort-laughed my coffee everywhere.Once about fifteen years ago the same friend who got me the Harvey doodle came to Los Angeles for a visit. We decided to go see a movie at The Grove, we just drove over after a class I taught to see what was playing next. The Passion of the Christ was the only film about to start. This was before everyone knew Mel Gibson was a wife-beating racist, mind you.We asked the woman behind the counter if she’d seen it, and if it was good. “Yes,” she said solemnly, “it’s really good. It’s about the last twenty-four hours of Jesus’ life. It’s a cinematic documentary.” I’m not sure how long we stood there staring at her, trying to figure out if she was serious, but it was long enough to realize she was serious.Many people who identify as Christian and therefore believe in Jesus say they voted for the current administration because they believe abortion is murder so they had to vote for this administration*…but they do not seem to realize this administration would deport Jesus himself and Mary and Joseph, too, if they showed up in the United States today. Brown people from the largest Arab city in Israel who had their baby in Palestine and then walked forty miles to Egypt before emigrating? Without papers? Jesus Christ, good luck and I mean that.Also just because I have to, even though I’ve said it eleventy bajillion times:*The number of abortions has risen and continues to rise since Roe was overturned — a thing conservatives said would never happen, but we all knew would happen. Then they said, well it’s okay, we’re just sending it back to the states! This is what happens when you send it back to the states. Maternal and infant mortality rates rise in states with the most restrictive abortion bans. Women who have the means, tra

I recorded this episode after one of the most sorrowful weeks I can remember. I wanted to be feeling joyful because it’s the holiday season, but you can’t force joy, and it’s very difficult to live in a country where we continue to have school shootings as though there’s nothing we can do to change that.Of all the issues we face here, that’s the one that wrecks me in a way that is hard to describe. Part of it is having school-age children myself — my son is the age the Sandy Hook kids would have been — and part of it is finding it unfathomable that anyone is willing to continue to fail our children this way. It isn’t normal that both of my children have texted me during lockdowns. It isn’t normal that we now have kids who have been in more than one school shooting.Then there was Bondi Beach, people fleeing for their lives, parents diving into pits trying to cover their children with their own bodies. When it seemed things could not get sadder, news of the Reiners stared to emerge.There wasn’t a way to pull holiday cheer out of the hat, friends, and if that’s what you’re looking for, stick a pin in this episode. But if you are struggling with it all and in need of a good cry, then maybe this is for you. Either way, this is not an episode for little ears. I’m sending you a lot of love. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit allyhamilton.yogisanonymous.com/subscribe

This episode is about a time when I was four, and two kids said I was dying and I believed them. More than that, though, it’s about a person who allowed me to be scared and sad and to grieve openly. I missed my grandma. I missed my old life before my grandma died — when my mom and dad and I lived together, and I didn’t spend three nights in one apartment, four nights in another.I missed my mom when she was happy. I missed mornings at the Jersey Shore with my grandma — my Nanny — the person whose face lit up every time she looked at me, and whose hugs where the best possible place to be. I didn’t know where Heaven was. I couldn’t tell my mom when I was scared or sad because she’d get angry. I was afraid she might decide she couldn’t handle it and leave me at her friend’s farm.I couldn’t tell my dad how I felt because he’d flip the script and make it about him. He’d sob in my arms which was too much for me to handle at four or five or six or ten — or every year he laid his grownup problems at my feet — until I told him I couldn’t take it anymore. That didn’t happen until I was thirteen. So I stopped telling anyone, until that day when I had a nosebleed and thought I was going to die. It’s a gift when someone lets you feel however you feel without trying to fix it, and without giving you the feeling that there’s a time limit. When they hold you tightly enough you know it’s safe to fall apart. Come As You Are is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit allyhamilton.yogisanonymous.com/subscribe

Four years ago today I was on a plane, trying to stay calm. I’d had to throw stuff in a bag and get on an app to find a flight that left a day earlier than the flight I had booked, which was a thing I did in a Lyft on the way to LAX. It wasn’t the plan. The plan was that I was going to fly back to NYC the following day, December 8th, to be there when the hospital discharged my mother into hospice care at home. I’d spent the last couple of days doing the paperwork and switching her into the hospice network, setting up the team to meet her at the apartment where I grew up, where she still lived, where I now seemed to live more than I didn’t. I’d been coordinating times for a hospital bed to be delivered, buying an easy chair that reclined all the way back and had good reviews so the hospice team could maybe get some sleep here and there, figuring out shifts for everyone. She was going to need 24-hour care in addition to me, my brother and my stepdad. You have to know when you’re beat, and I did.I’d had a bad feeling, though. My mother hated the bipap machine. That was the machine that forced oxygen into her lungs, and sucked CO2 out. I couldn’t blame her — her jaw was slack because of the ALS, so they had to use a visor and velcro straps to secure it to her face and around the back of her head. She’d been on a ventilator for 12 days before that, and when she came off the ventilator (a thing they weren’t sure she would do at all) her breath was shallow and weak. She didn’t like the feeling of the “aggressive breaths” being forced in and out of her. She scrawled those words on a notepad — her perfect, Catholic-school-girl cursive a thing of the past. She shook her head at me helplessly, and even that took effort. Her eyes were two huge pools of sadness. She didn’t like the velcro straps, the machines beeping, the tubes everywhere. I can’t write anymore about this right now.I’d gotten into the rhythm of being back in NYC, sleeping in the bedroom that was mine before my brother was born, spending 12-hour days in the ICU with my mom, who was dying. I’d fly back to Los Angeles for a night, hug my kids, make sure they were okay, and then get back on a plane the next day. It had been going on for a month. I never imagined I’d be taking planes like cab rides, and I did not allow myself to look at my credit card statements or even worry about how I was going to handle any of it, I just did it. For as far back as I can remember, I’ve longed for my mother. Sometimes I longed for her in a room full of people, sometimes when it was just the two of us talking. As a child I never felt that I “had” her — it seemed like she wasn’t very interested in me no matter how hard I tried to be good or perfect. If I had her attention, it was because I’d enraged her. We struggled as I got older, because I could see she was in pain. People do not drink like that for no reason. I wanted someone to help her, and to help me by extension. She refused to admit there was a problem. Everyone else refused to challenge her. There’d been so much pain between us. She was hurt, and she’d hurt me. Then when I receded, as any sane person will do if you hurt them, she felt betrayed. I was supposed to pretend the bad things hadn’t happened, and my inability to do that — and later, my refusal to do that — made her furious. As I got older, that response of hers enraged me. At the end of her life, none of it mattered. I would have fought an army by myself with nothing but my broken heart to save her if I could have. I tried. It was enough, though, because she saw me trying. Everyone saw me trying. I would have given almost everything for more time with her, because the ALS took every last thing from her, including her ability to drink. Including her ability to rage. It didn’t happen all at once, the year leading up to her hospitalization was a thing that was so brutal it’s hard to comprehend sometimes. As the disease ravaged her, she lashed out at me in ways that hurt my heart when I think of them. I’m still recovering from it all, four years later. But the last three weeks of her life, when she could not speak anymore…that was when my mom and I started to communicate in the only language you ever really need. It was the only thing I’d ever wanted or needed from her. I finally had her in that way I’d been longing to have her my whole life. Three weeks felt like such a short amount of time to have her, and then to have to let her go. I did make it to the hospital in time to be with her the last few hours of her life, thanks to a huge line of people at the taxi stand at JFK who let me cut to the front. Do not ever let anyone tell you New Yorkers are not kind. I still think of those people and wish I could hug every one of them.For anyone who is grieving or missing someone this time of year, this episode is for you. I will let you know that I had to stop a few times, and there were tears. But that’s okay. You have to let the grief move through you.Sending love

Last week I wrote about what it’s like growing up and existing as a girl and a woman in this world. The response from so many women who relate was overwhelming, enraging, heartbreaking, and also incredible. The “Quiet, Piggy” moment touched a deep nerve in many women across all kinds of borders, because so many of us felt it in our bones. So many of us know exactly what it’s like when a man attacks you, verbally or otherwise, because you are not behaving the way he wants you to behave. Because you have the gall to question him, to speak up for yourself or someone else, to assert your right to exist as a full human being. Because you aren’t being polite, you aren’t “staying in line” or being nice. More power to you.There is a certain kind of man who does not like women, does not respect them, does not consider them to be equal. There is a certain kind of man who thinks little girls are easy targets. I wrote from the perspective I know, but it’s children who are not safe around men like this, not just little girls. They are not the kind of men we want in positions of power. It’s tough when men like these are our dads, our teachers, our bosses at work, a guy we pass on a hiking trail, in a stairwell, or a desolate parking lot at night. It is hard to get across what it’s like to be doing this kind of math in your head all the time, because you can’t know by looking at a man which kind of man he is. To be assessing whether you’re safe, what you need to do to keep yourself safe, whether your daughter is safe. The fury I feel when I think about that last part is impossible to describe. I’m surprised I don’t open my mouth and breathe fire.It’s devastating that so many people support men who are abusive, misogynistic and in many cases, predatory. It will never make sense to me that millions of people did not find it disqualifying when the man who sits in the Oval Office said he “grabs women by the pussy.” He said it. Out loud. If you voted for him, you were okay with that. You excused it as “locker room talk” but it isn’t talk — it’s a way of thinking about women. Good men don’t say things like that. As ever, the comments section under the essay this week is incredible. If you have any doubt whether women everywhere relate and have stories of their own, please go take a look. There are also so many thoughtful, heartening comments made by men. The only way things will get better is if we make them get better, together. Not just for our daughters, but for our sons, too. This isn’t good for any of us.Thank you for being here, I appreciate you so much. If you’re new here, welcome. I record the podcast episodes after I read the first round of comments, so these podcast episodes are very much co-creations. Last thing, Rufus my rescue dog was in the room with me. Turned out he was in the mood to play, not podcast, even though we’d already played and had a very long walk. You’ll hear him once or twice, some things can’t be helped. He’s the best, and so are you. Sending you love.Come As You Are is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit allyhamilton.yogisanonymous.com/subscribe

There’s a certain kind of person who is so concerned with their own needs, how they’re feeling, and what’s good for them, they really don’t have the capacity to take in much of anything else. You might know some people like this. They can be very charming and charismatic, but after a short time you’ll realize their favorite topic — and the one they circle back to again and again — is them.When they aren’t talking about what’s good for them or what they’re excited about or looking forward to (world dominance! ballroom-bunkers! the end of Obamacare!) — they’re talking about things that really upset them. A list of ways they’ve been wronged or people they loathe — and they can be very petty about it. These kind of people like to assert their dominance as a way of feeling better about themselves. No one feels the need to assert something when they feel confident it’s already understood, and only insecure, fearful people have the desire to dominate and control others. This week I wrote about a time I watched my dad strip my not-yet-stepmom of her power and joy right in front of me, teaching us both that he was the one who was going to call the shots. I was five, and I remember looking from him to her and back again, as the energy in the room shifted, and so did something in my mind. This wasn’t about a teddy bear, this was about permission. She’d done something without asking him if it was okay, and he wasn’t going to allow that.There was more to it — if she and I bonded, that threatened the relationship he’d set up with me. I was supposed to be his tiny confidante, his pocket therapist, his pint-sized affirmer and secret-keeper. If she started buying me teddy bears, who knew whether I’d keep his Extracurricular Olympic-Level Womanizing Activities to myself.My dad was fifty. His girlfriend (eventual third wife) was twenty-four. I was five. Those numbers feel significant. She’d bought me the bear with her own money, but he made us return it. We both got the lesson that she was not allowed any agency when it came to me. Only he was the grantor of joy if there was going to be any.What kind of man makes his tiny daughter return a teddy bear? What kind of man teaches his girlfriend she gets no respect, right in front of his child? She’s allowed to do the laundry, make the dinner, keep the house clean, work and pay half the bills, but she’s not allowed to buy a gift he wouldn’t have purchased … because, why?What kind of man gives $40 billion to Argentina, but won’t feed the most vulnerable people in his own country? What kind of man makes people choose between food and affordable healthcare? What kind of president doesn’t care that 20 million people are going to see a doubling of their healthcare premiums (mine are quadrupling) or that 15 million people will be thrown off Medicaid and the ACA?What kind of administration grants tax breaks to billionaires and huge corporations, but doesn’t care that hardworking people are struggling to buy groceries? What kind of people send ICE agents to daycare centers? In the midst of all these horrors, what kind of man pauses, looks around, and asks, “Did Women Ruin the Workplace?” All this and more (including the very excellent special elections) in this week’s podcast episode. Love to all.Come As You Are is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit allyhamilton.yogisanonymous.com/subscribe

“We see things not as they are, but as we are. Because it is the ‘I’ behind the ‘eye’ that does the seeing.”― Anaïs NinThis week’s essay and this podcast episode are about the “I” behind the “eye.” You, me, any of us — we are always walking out the door carrying our frames of reference with us, our perspectives, our ideas about how the world works, what we have to offer, whether anyone wants to hear from us. So much of what we’re seeing is influenced by what we expect to see, or by the way we perceive what we’re seeing. I had a rough week, but not as rough as a lot of people. I was reminded that at any time your phone can ring and it can change everything. A single moment on a random Tuesday morning can render most things meaningless, and remind you of what you cannot live without. If you’re smart, the “things” you can’t live without are the people who mean everything to you, and whatever ideals you hold close to your heart — kindness, compassion, the belief that everyone deserves dignity. It’s been a rough time for kindness and dignity. Every day I see things that hurt my heart and make me wonder what has happened to far too many people, and what will become of the country I love. People I once knew are supporting some of the most cruel and heartless acts of callousness I’ve seen in my lifetime, but want to agree to disagree. The government is being sold off for parts, and the people in power are willing to starve the most vulnerable members of our country for political leverage.But there are also people working hard to fight back, to say no, to make sure no one will go to sleep hungry. There are people throwing themselves in front of ICE agents, Attorneys General filing lawsuits, good human beings showing up for their neighbors. No matter what happens, we get to decide what it means when we say “I am here” — we get to decide who that “I” is, and what we expect to see from the people around us. What we will tolerate from our friends, and what we are not willing to accept.We get to look up on a starry night and be amazed, or sit by the ocean and recognize how tiny we are — and how utterly arrogant we’d have to be to think we know how other people should live. We get to be thankful for the chance to visit this pale blue dot of a planet, or ignorant enough to believe we own any of it. It isn’t ours, we’re just visiting, but we belong to each other. It’s really easy to spot the people who know that. They’re the people trying to help.Come As You Are is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber. This is a public episode. If you'd like to discuss this with other subscribers or get access to bonus episodes, visit allyhamilton.yogisanonymous.com/subscribe