At the moment, I am reading three books and listening to a podcast every other day. I say this not to sound smart or give an air of intellectual personification, I am merely giving a glimpse into the manic mind that I call my daily thought process. I read, listen, write, observe, cringe and repeat. I have a need for exuberant amounts of information so that I exhaust myself into submission, enough to finally relax and just be. My most thriveful writing comes about when I am running, I know that sounds cliche…honestly it’s the worst possible moment for “creative me”, because as soon as I stop running.. poof, its gone. Every word, clever antidote, heart pulling metaphor is in the past and no matter how hard I try to get it back it’s gone, watching the cursor blink, I can drink wine, eat, nothing brings it back. However, sometimes a subject nags me so much that I finally give in and start to peddle away at the key board, always in the dark…I’m a Scorpio it comes with the territory., and the digression begins.
Subject nag this week is grief. I LOVE and hate grief. I love it because its universal. We all do it and it will attack every single one of us at some time or another. Its is the worst possible feeling in the word. Whether it is a death of a loved one, pet, or a breakup, the same chemistry happens, the same empty sensation, the same blackness of loneliness of sad sweeps over our entire being. We don’t even know how to console someone who’s grieving. We step around them and never ask about the obvious. We tell them it will be ok, and moving on is good. Is it? I grieve over things and people that have very little existence in my life. I hold onto a book or pen because if I let it go, the person who gave it to me no longer exists. Someone will always grieve. Someone will always die. Maybe that’s why I feel connected to grief. Its an inevitability like death. It WILL happen. Do not try to out run it, it will always catch up with you. Perhaps if we just let it move over us like a fog rolling in, it will just take us then leave as softly and swiftly as it came in; but we don’t. We fight it, and pull back the memories of what once was, the thing, the place, the person. Even social media does not let us forget. Facebook has a great way of letting us relive those people, places and things even if we do not want to. “Remember this day?!” We see the memory and scream, “NOOOO!!!!” grief just tapped you on the shoulder 5 years later to remind you its still there. My father has early stage dementia. He remembers, and forgets. He thinks some people are others, and then he thinks he somewhere else. It’s somewhat comforting in a sick and twisted way that one day I could actually forget who I am, or at least think I am 19 again. My grief for him is real, and intense. I want to scream and shake him, and stab myself with my pen as I fill out forms to get him assisted living. I don’t want this for him, but its not my life. He doesn’t seem too bothered by it other than he says he’s bored, and sometimes a little sad because of the confusion of who’s who and when’s when. I wonder why I care so much, why my grief feels so real. A friend of his told me that we see our mortality in those who are ill. We don’t want to feel mortal or reminded of it. Am I grieving my mortality? That seems to be a legitimate question. I want grief to take a hike, and go torment someone else for awhile. I prefer my insensitive nature to my sappy, heart ripped grieving one. I dealt with grief really well as a child, I would cry for days and listen to terribly sad music, I made sure everyone knew I was on the brink of insanity, then it was over. As quickly as it began, I was back to being a pain in the ass and angry. Simple. Now, I ponder the why’s, what ifs, and the who cares; is this all there is….I find the thought of sending out messages of grief for those grieving somewhat cruel, however I am guilty of this type of behavior. I have even googled “How to console someone grieving”, that’s pathetic!! I made a decision to just be authentic. No one cares if I am sensitive to their grief. Hell when I am grieving I am like a drunk teen just wanting to be alone with my hair pulled back. Weird analogy but it sticks. My grief was the thorn in the sides of people I knew loved me, but they couldn’t pull me out of it. So guess what? They got angry and bored. They wanted me to stop, move on, be strong, forget about it. I hear myself saying the same words to those who are in the depths of the black hole of grief and I cringe. I want to apologize for being a typical human and wanting to Clorox wipe your grief away. I want to cry with you, and drown myself in bottles of wine, or whatever your poison. I want to smoke a pack of cigarettes, and sleep until I wake up sobbing. If this isn’t your type of grief, then I feel bad for you. This is the grief I love, solely because on the other side, especially for me, is a step up.
So I say grieve on, let it out. Tell everyone you know, “Fuck off, I’m grieving!”