I’ve been in a creative rut lately—and I’m sure many of you can probably relate to this problem a little too much right now. However, as usual, instead of being gentle, I’ve proceeded to berate myself mercilessly for not being more productive. I’ve refused to listen to my feelings. I’ve ignored them. I’ve chased them away. The irony, of course, being that the longer you avoid facing your discomfort, the more uncomfortable you become…
At the beginning, you float just atop the surface. But slowly, you ease in. And then you begin to sink. Some unseen force pulls you under, softly, gently, but firmly, with conviction and malice.
Until, at last, your fingers graze the soft silty sands of the ocean’s floor…
Here we go. Back at it again with the Spooky themes. It’s All Hallows Eve-Eve, so, indulge me.
If you do, I promise to repay in kind with a “harrowing” tale that is sure to send shivers of some kind down your spine…
WTF is healing?
I don’t know.
It’s been 5 years and it still hurts so fucking much when I look at pictures of you.
I always feel sad around this time of year.
Don’t say you’re sorry.
You don’t have to be sorry, just know that I get this way at the end of October…
The Performance of Grief: What people expect from you and what you expect from people in return.
When you lose a loved one—anyone you hold dear—you will find yourself suddenly saddled, not only with the heaviness of Grief, but with a weight of voyeuristic expectation…
Last week, I ended with several questions that I had no answers for—sort of shaking my fist angrily at my conception of Western Cultures of Grief and how they’ve fucked me up. Over the following week (lifetime), I looked for answers to those questions, internally and externally. Of course, I found no hard answers, but I think I might have found a few insights…
Now that I’ve shared my experience of loss, how I felt in the moment, I want to take some time to discuss and explore the After.
We like to say that everyone processes loss differently, but is that really true? I doubt it. I doubt that anything we experience is entirely unique. And that, my friends, is a damn good thing—because it means you are not alone…
I remember the night that I found out Theo had died. The scene around me is sketched out in high intensity detail. Sharp, crystalline. Set. Each element remains in my mind, unchanged, embodying the permanence of the loss itself…
Will Lucas died today…
I have a lot to say
But no words to say it right now
I am in shock beyond words
I do have questions
And feelings:
Sadness, Anger, Guilt
But mostly, I’m just Numb…
I am afraid that talking about my grief is a selfish thing. I am afraid that I am not grieving or have not grieved in the right way. I am afraid for people to see, and know, and judge. Although, I have a sneaking suspicion that I am the only one judging myself here.
But I need to talk about it….
The idea is to write something every day, quickly, without fretting too much over words or taking any time to edit; just let the words flow in a stream of consciousness! I’ll see if they give me a story, a lyric, a poem. It doesn’t matter. If it blossoms into something fuller later that’s fine, but it’s ok if they remain fragments. Life is made up of fragments. Some of them become stories and some of them are just pieces of a larger story. Some fragments are singular moments in time. Forgettable or life changing they all have their place. -Lorelei Moon