Loss and love are a part of life, they say. Loss and love is life, I say. It is everything. Sometimes it’s a vicious seemingly cruel cycle
where you invest in love to keep yourself alive, and then losing it makes you
feel like you can’t go on. And then you
do it all over again. My brother said it’s
like when you get a dog knowing you’re going to outlive it, knowing it will die
before you, knowing you’re going to love it, that the relationship will bring
you joy but still knowing you will lose it all in the end. And then you go out and get another dog and
do it all over again.
I am currently in a place of grief where I lost something
that brought happiness I thought I could never attain. The idea of attaining it again is so daunting
and hopeless. I waited my entire adult
life to achieve that happiness, and then it was just, gone. And now I have to figure out how and when
I’ll try to achieve it again because without the pursuit of happiness, even
with the risk of losing it again, makes life pointless. Love and companionship is the air we breathe whether you like it
or not.
Attempting a pursuit of happiness when all you want to
really do is cry and hurt and mourn and insolate yourself is a very challenging
task. For anybody who is familiar with
grief and depression, just getting yourself in the shower can be a very large
achievement for the day. When you decide
you need to do more than that, it can be so overwhelming that you cascade back
into the lonely hole of your couch and immerse yourself in insolation. Grief sucks.
The most important thing a person suffering from loss and depression can
do is to reach out. It can be the
hardest thing to do because the worst part about being a victim of depression
is feeling like you’re a selfish burden to your loved ones. You have a voice in your head telling you
that they’re dealing with shit too and you don’t want to be the selfish one
that piles your shit on top of their shit.
I am blessed to have some of the most amazing, loving friends in my life
who have made it very clear to me that they would be angry at me for not
reaching out to them. So, even though
that little voice of embarrassment in my head is telling me to be ashamed, I
should be proud to declare that I have made great efforts to reach out time and
time again when I’m having a really bad night.
It has saved me. I share, because
it could save you too.
As I have taken advantage of my upswings (for the denial
stage in grief is the most blissful and literally saves you from complete
despair), I have tried to pull myself together.
In my grief I have gained a lot of weight which has just added to the
depression cycle. Raise your hand if you
know what I’m talking about. I’m sure
many of you do. But I have tried in all
of my upswings to overcome this, to pep talk myself, to buy the healthy food
and start picking up those hand weights.
It’ll last maybe two days. Three
if I’m lucky. I’ll fall back into a
sadness so deep that everything seems completely pointless. What is life without joy? Why do we depend on relationships to give us
that? Why is companionship so dangerous
and so needed at the same time?
I get very annoyed with people who claim to be feminist and
say things like, “I don’t need a man,” or “I’m better off being single,” and
shame women who want and need a relationship with a man. I understand not needing a man to make a
living for yourself, for taking care of who you are and what you want to
be. But hell, y’all, I need a man. I need companionship and everything that
comes along with it. It’s human. The affection, the company, the ego stroking,
the high off love that maybe other people don’t enjoy but I sure as hell
do. It is such a part of my being to be
a care taker, to love, to give, to ego stroke, to make people happy, to make
people laugh, to make people feel included and secure. So yeah, I want to give that to a man. To the right man. He’s gone now, though. I have to start over. But here’s where the
despair really takes over: I don’t want
to get back on the horse this time.
I rallied, however, a few weeks ago. I said, “Jess? Even though this summer is going to suck
because you will not only be missing him, but you will be doing everything
alone. Again. Odd wheel as always. But the least you can do for yourself is get
healthy and feel good in your body again.”
So. The most efficient way I’ve
ever been able to lose weight in my past is by lifting free weights. My brother taught me how a long time ago, and
it is the quickest way I’ve ever shed pounds.
Not only that, but I actually enjoy it.
So I looked around at my tiny studio apartment and I said, “Eff it. I can find a small enough one to fit in
here. Who cares if it’s just another
obstacle I have to stub my toe on?” I
was determined this would save me. I was
determined this would be what repairs my esteem and gets my head into a better
space.
I literally found the weight bench of my dreams. I had been searching for about two weeks and
finally found exactly what I wanted. It
was a junior weight bench, so it was small.
It came with a bar and some weights and had a leg press. All for the golden price of $20. So I wrote to the seller immediately and it
was still available. I kept in contact
with him about when I would pick it up. I
needed someone to help me because a) my car is too small and b) I can’t carry a
damn weight bench up two flights of stairs into my apartment by myself. So I sent out an SOS on Facebook and my dear
friend Nyki responded.
Nyki and I go way back to being co-workers ten years
ago. We became friends when she found
out through another blog I was writing at the time that I was a fierce Harry
Potter fan. She reached out to me and
asked me out for coffee. We had a weekly
coffee date in the same coffee shop in the little town of St. Francis for
several years and became soul sisters.
She is one of the most interesting and loving people I know and I am
dearly blessed to have her in my life.
She is one of many, which I will touch on later if you stay with me,
Reader.
I knew the weight bench was in Pine City but I had very
mistakenly thought it was south of Minneapolis and not far away. I should’ve looked it up. I’m an idiot.
So I was alarmed when I hopped into Nyki’s car and she punched in the
address into her phone and she announced, “It’ll be an hour and eight minutes!”
I was exasperated and she responded with, “I knew it was that far.” So, she drove all the way from up north to
Minneapolis to pick me up, made me this homemade extraordinary card to cheer me
up for she knew my current grief, and was willing to drive all the way to Pine
City to help me get my savior weight bench.
In case some of you struggle with the concept of love, THAT is love.
We enjoyed the car ride for the most part, getting a chance
to catch up with each other and talk about life and reminisce. But it was a long drive. We just kept going north, and north, and
north. I kept watching the passing signs
of towns that were close to where my parents lived. And we still kept going north. Finally we found the house. Finally we made it into the right
driveway. Finally, I was going to get my
savior weight bench.
I rang the doorbell.
The seller’s father answered the door.
Now, I knew it was his father because in our messaging back and forth he
had mentioned that his father was there but could not help load. I said, “Hi!
I’m here for the weight bench?”
He looked at me bewildered and said, “Oh we already sold it. A guy came and picked it up a while ago.”
My heart sank in more ways than one. I was hopeful and blindsided with
disappointment. I was angry. I was devastated. This bench meant more than just a bench. So I said, “I said I was coming!” Which I had.
I had messaged the seller telling him when I was going to arrive and
when I left my apartment. He did not
deem it necessary to let me know he had another buyer. The rudeness is beyond my comprehension. I could never do this to somebody, so how
could they? The same question I’ve asked
in so many personal situations…
Nyki fired right up and told the man off. She didn’t know he wasn’t the actually
seller, but regardless, she said what needed to be said. “It’s really shitty you let us drive an hour
out to pick up the bench and you already sold it and didn’t let her know. That’s really shitty.” The seller’s father actually nodded and agreed
because I think he was in as much shock as we were. Side note: the seller posted the item sold
later that night at 10pm. It was sold
before 10pm, you asshole.
This was a disappointment that manifested itself into a
metaphor of my recent loss. So hopeful. Blindsided with rejection and no
communication. It’s not easy to go out
and find another one, set up a dear loving friend who will help me, plan out a
time to pick it up, actually find that one, perfect-for-me weight bench that
will make me feel good about myself…. Again.
I couldn’t help it. I cried almost all the way home. My dear friend who is so understanding put on
melancholy music, sang softly to it and told me, “You be as sad as you
want. Don’t hold back. I’ll just play this music and you be as sad
as you want.” So I was sad. I stared out the window for miles and just
wept. How could he do this?
We came back to my apartment with a plan. We were going to drink and eat comfort food. We ordered pizza from Slice of New York, the
only place I feel I can get a sort of true taste of hometown pizza. We had choice of desserts, either baklava or
cannoli. We decided on cannoli because I
wanted her to get a true taste of Italian dessert. The pizza was amazing. The ONE cannoli we got was revolting. She was so relieved that I spit out my bite
because she was afraid of insulting me for thinking this was supposed to be the
most delicious thing you’ve ever eaten.
It was crap. But that was
okay. We had a wonderful time of
laughing and enjoying each other’s friendship, sisterhood. You can’t heal without friends. You can’t heal without love.
I woke up the next morning feeling the Jack Daniels I had
the night before. Nyki asked me if I was
okay. I said, “Yeah, I just think I’m
still a little drunk.” She shook her
head and said, “No. I mean, are you
okay. You have me concerned.” And this is where I lost it entirely. I started crying uncontrollably and told her
I was suffering from depression. I was completely
unhinged.
Emotions are very annoying.
Not being a socio path is a wee bit of a struggle, and that’s just a
general human being with a conscience. I’m
an extra feely human being with a very deep sense of all emotions and even
though that may seem like I’m “sensitive” and get hurt easily, it’s not quite
like that. What math equations are to a mathematical
genius are what emotions are to an artist.
They are what drives us in a powerful way but can be very
overwhelming. The healthy thing to do is
to let it all out, sort it all out, and then express it all out. And that is my process. So, melting down in front of Nyki was my
letting it all out stage.
Every time I experience the love of a friend, I feel an
overwhelming gratitude for the air in my lungs.
It is a spiritual experience because by all rights love is a phenomena
that those "mathematicians" can’t figure out but we artists sure as hell know a
thing or two about it. I’m not saying “mathematicians”
can’t feel love, or know love, I’m just saying we know how to define it. And that is the purpose of this post. This blog. I’m about to define love.
Please stay tuned for Part Two….
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