Throughout my life I have heard the "write what you know" line. I've heard it so many times that sometimes I actually think, while writing, do I know this? What's true? What's my truth? I tried to write a post last night about the sudden loss of a friend of mine and I tried in that post to break down why it sucked so bad to lose her and why loss in general sucks so bad. I think I wrote it kind of well but I got lost in it and realized it got kind of weird and inauthentic. I felt like I was writing for an audience and not for my truth and I really don't like the way those kinds of post end up sounding which, to me, is usually kind of cliché and vague.
The real truth about sudden loss, for me, right now is that it becomes a part of one big loss and feels like someone ripped a Band-Aid off without asking me first. I know it may sound selfish or inappropriate to say that this loss somehow reminded me of my Dad, but its the truth, it did. I got kicked in the mouth again with the truth that people can die at any time and sometimes when we are not at all prepared for it. It's scary and sad and confusing to try to peal away the loss of my Dad from the loss of a friend from the loss of famous actor I liked. It's just loss. It's just fear. It's just powerlessness. And again my own difficulty with accepting life on life's terms even when I think the terms are fucked up and don't make sense.
Also, I think loss points a light on the things in my life that are not going how I want. I think...life is short, what am I doing wasting time doing x. I don't have time to waste. I need to be doing more x. Less x. Etc. I end up feeling so darn sad. I guess I cant figure out what I should be doing more or less of. I just feel that it should all mean something. That it should count in some big picture way.
On Monday night I was helping Hazel make a mailbox for Valentine's. It was due the next day and she had woken up that morning crying that we had forgotten and I had forgotten. I reassured her that we would make a great mailbox that night and we did. As I was scrambling around after work in 5 degree weather to buy the stuff we needed I felt so discouraged. I felt like I try hard to do good work that helps others but that that Monday it was just futile and both my clients and my kid got the short end. I felt sorry for myself and for them simultaneously. I drove home ate dinner and then we began the birdhouse mailbox. There was a glue gun that I borrowed from a coworker, a bird, lots of red glitter, hearts, sequins someone gave us, markers. Hazel and I worked on it together and I hung in there for making it just like she wanted it. I burnt my fingers on the glue gun w the sequins. I repeatedly stopped myself from directing how it should be done, color coordinated, or made. Essentially I shut up for once and let her do it with me doing what she needed help with, like using the hot glue. It came out sweet and imperfect and sort of beautiful. We had this big talk about how it was ok if she didn't win an award because we both liked it and thought it was great.
Then after learning of my friend's death, having to deal with the police and very sad and scared children, I got a call from Craig that Hazel had won an award for her mailbox. She won "most creative." He said she was really happy and excited and that it was great. I hung up the phone and there was moment just sitting there where I felt ok, I felt good. It was the sweet spot--that's about all I know.
The real truth about sudden loss, for me, right now is that it becomes a part of one big loss and feels like someone ripped a Band-Aid off without asking me first. I know it may sound selfish or inappropriate to say that this loss somehow reminded me of my Dad, but its the truth, it did. I got kicked in the mouth again with the truth that people can die at any time and sometimes when we are not at all prepared for it. It's scary and sad and confusing to try to peal away the loss of my Dad from the loss of a friend from the loss of famous actor I liked. It's just loss. It's just fear. It's just powerlessness. And again my own difficulty with accepting life on life's terms even when I think the terms are fucked up and don't make sense.
Also, I think loss points a light on the things in my life that are not going how I want. I think...life is short, what am I doing wasting time doing x. I don't have time to waste. I need to be doing more x. Less x. Etc. I end up feeling so darn sad. I guess I cant figure out what I should be doing more or less of. I just feel that it should all mean something. That it should count in some big picture way.
On Monday night I was helping Hazel make a mailbox for Valentine's. It was due the next day and she had woken up that morning crying that we had forgotten and I had forgotten. I reassured her that we would make a great mailbox that night and we did. As I was scrambling around after work in 5 degree weather to buy the stuff we needed I felt so discouraged. I felt like I try hard to do good work that helps others but that that Monday it was just futile and both my clients and my kid got the short end. I felt sorry for myself and for them simultaneously. I drove home ate dinner and then we began the birdhouse mailbox. There was a glue gun that I borrowed from a coworker, a bird, lots of red glitter, hearts, sequins someone gave us, markers. Hazel and I worked on it together and I hung in there for making it just like she wanted it. I burnt my fingers on the glue gun w the sequins. I repeatedly stopped myself from directing how it should be done, color coordinated, or made. Essentially I shut up for once and let her do it with me doing what she needed help with, like using the hot glue. It came out sweet and imperfect and sort of beautiful. We had this big talk about how it was ok if she didn't win an award because we both liked it and thought it was great.
Then after learning of my friend's death, having to deal with the police and very sad and scared children, I got a call from Craig that Hazel had won an award for her mailbox. She won "most creative." He said she was really happy and excited and that it was great. I hung up the phone and there was moment just sitting there where I felt ok, I felt good. It was the sweet spot--that's about all I know.
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