April 25, 2013

The Ram and the Wall

Preface: I haven't done this in a while. Well, I mean, I've written things. Like my name and stuff. But as far as cohesive streams of thought, I've been limited to one or two line jokes about jerking off on deer (sorry). So this will probably be kinda disjointed. Pretty sure I used that word wrong. Wrongly? In a wrongish fashion. Wrongedly. Also, I realize how absurdly pompous it is to write a preface to a fucking blog post.
Some stuff has happened. My mom died last month. I'm going to write about that. My brain has felt constipated with thoughts and ideas for longer than I care to admit. So this is my enema. You'll want to stand down wind. Or up wind. Whichever.

 I'm trying to tie a bunch of things together so that I can cover as much ground in one post as possible. I've written and re-written this several times. So that's probably not gonna happen. So here's just some things?

I don't recommend anyone going through what I've gone through in the last month or two. If at all possible, you should make sure that your mom never dies. Never ever ever ever ever. In fact, make sure that nobody you care about dies. Ever. That shit is no good. And if you happen to already be prone to bouts of anxiety and depression, well, you can forget about sleeping for at least a month or so. And eating. And having a general desire to live. That doesn't mean I've been suicidal or anything like that. It's just that in the days and weeks immediately following, I felt this giant question mark hanging over my head at all times. I don't know what the question was or how to answer it. It's still there, and will always be there. It's probably always been there. It just took something truly fucking awful for me to notice it. But it's gradually faded to where I can mostly ignore it. Or at least deal with it on my terms when I'm ready to deal with it. Whereas when I was in the thick of the awfulness, it was like a ram constantly headbutting my side. Now, with the aid of perspective and whatever else I've gained through this horrible time, there's a buffer zone between me and that ram that cushions its headbutts.
That doesn't mean I've learned any profound life lessons. If anything, I'm more confused and unsure about everything than I was before. But I'm comforted in admitting just how unsure and insecure I am about life. I don't mean any particular aspect of life. The whole thing. Because I have a sneaking suspicion most, if not all, people have those same questions and insecurities. And sometimes it takes the worst fucking thing you can imagine happening to give you the perspective that you need.
I wrote and delivered my mom's eulogy. I knew I was going to do it before she passed. The only concern I had, which I had when I did the same for my friend's grandfather (and still have) is that people would think I wasn't as affected by her death. That because I was able to put my thoughts into a semi-cohesive form and stand in the front of the church and deliver them, that it meant that I had graduated to an understanding of death that others hadn't. Not true. In fact, I'd go so far as to say that I'm as, if not more, confused than anyone about death. But if you know me, you know I like to talk. In fact, if I had to rate myself, I'd say I'm a very good talker, a so-so writer and a horrible editor. I don't know when to shut the fuck up. I think I believe that if I just keep talking and talking (or writing) that I'll eventually come to some wall where I can go no further. I've been talking for the better part of 29 years. No wall yet.
There was one benefit to writing and delivering the eulogy. As I wrote it, I literally felt a physical release of pressure from my body. Once when I wrote it and again when I spoke it. Of course, I've never received a gift I couldn't find fault with. And with this it was that I felt selfish. Like, ok, I got relief from doing this, but what about everyone else? Where does their relief come from? Is it ok to tell them I felt that relief? I realized that any relief felt in this situation is ok. All these questions and doubts just come with the territory of being the overlord of overthinking.
I'll try to wrap this up by getting my Wayne Dyer on with some advice for anyone going through anything like I've gone through:
It's ok. Everything is ok. Nothing is wrong. Even in the darkest, most awfulest of times, it's ok.
Surround yourself with good people. This seems like common sense, but I think it made the difference between which side of the void I ended up on.
Talk. Talk and talk and talk. Write if you want to/have to. Keep trying to hit that wall. Even if you hit it, it won't hurt nearly as much as you think it would.
Embrace the ram.
Ok. That's it. Gonna try to take my own advice.
Thanks, mom.


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