” I believe that that sadness exists in those of us who were born with an inner vision, who have a feeling, a knowing, a certainty of the way things could be, of the true and the Beautiful. The sadness is the distance between the vision inside of us and what is visible to us on the outside, in our families, in our communities, in our world, in our lives. If we did not have a beautiful knowing, we would not feel so sad that that thing is not yet manifest it’s a tension  between what we feel like could be should be was supposed to be and what is. so because of this this the people that have the sadness can become Warriors for truth and beauty and peace and love this sort of sadness this knowing this looking at the world and saying ah the I have such an ache that that’s the way it is like it’s intolerable to me because I have this vision for the way it could be ”

-Glennon Doyle

We can Do Hard Things, episode 283

I’ve been feeling that tension, that aching sadness more acutely lately. So many wants and hopes, the state of world can sometimes make me want to curl up and wonder, can any of this be possible?

My mind can spiral and race, trying to find the magic cure to fix everything outside of me so I can be ok. But that is never going to happen. I can’t change anyone else. I can’t even change me. And maybe that is the root problem. I keep trying to change me to “fit” into the world, to make more more palatable so I can be safe and loved and connected. If I am playing a part and feel those things than it still isn’t me that is safe, loved, and connected. It is my part. What would it be like to be in a world where me, the real me is enough.

I keep thinking I have arrived at this point where I trust I am enough and then the sadness resurfaces. I have a vision for myself, for this world. When when this part of me surfaces, I try to get rid of it, like Joy does with Sadness in Inside Out. Sadness and Grief are not wrong or bad or ugly or failures. They are the embodiment of love, longing, and desire. What I grieve is the result of believing something beautiful is possible and I hold the tension between what is and what could be.

How do I love this part of me that longs for something different? I know in the past I have tried to change the world outside of me to manifest this world, to get rid of the tension. And while I want to continue to work towards this beautiful vision I have for the world, I want to start with learning to safe, secure, and grounded with the tension present. My current tensions may ease and new ones will always come up. I don’t want to spend my life waiting for ease to live. I want to live, here and now.

Last night the grieve and sadness was very present and raw. I wanted someone to make it go away. I choose to make a pot of tea and start a puzzle. The tea was incredible. The puzzle was relaxing. I want more tea…I want more puzzling. Those felt good. The ache is still here but it isn’t as raw today.  That feels like a win.

I want to spend more time with my dreams, my hopes, my longings today. Listening to them. Delighting in what could be. Seeing our beauty and delight. And then, when we are ready, taking small steps to embody them, to manifest them, to make them real, even if they are real only in my head, or my home, or my relationships with my friends. I don’t have to stay this same. I don’t have to pass along the hurts and fears I was given. And I can give myself space when it is hard because it is hard.

Happy Birthday, dear one. I love you and I am here.

Dear Jessica,

We did the thing this week. I know it was big. And I still feel so defeated. I am just so tired. I love you because of how you protected me until I was ready to be me. You saved me. You protected me. And you stepped aside when it was time for me to become. When others ask for you instead of me, I hurt and it is easy to blame you on that hurt. But it isn’t you that is hurting me. It is not being loved for being  me that hurts. Others say I don’t exist or shouldn’t exist or that I am wrong for existing. Here I am. I can’t be anyone but me without lying. It feels like a no win situation.

In your old room, staring at pictures of you, I made direct requests. Because of you and because of me, I was able to state my needs. And I grieve that I had to make a request. Why does a person have to ask to be loved? Why have I had to experience rejected and pain and hurt?

Will you love me if I am ready to stop pretending to be okay when I am not? I think you will. I think I am ready to risk it. It is not longer worth the cost. Thank you for helping me be ready. Thank you for being with me for as long as I need you.

Love,

Jes

Dear Jessica,

It feels weird to write that out. (And also weird that it is weird. That is all I knew myself to be for over 34 years. Now it feels foreign? But I digress…)  I was thinking about you today and about us and about me. Next week will be full of you, pictures of you, memories of you, and people who wish you were there instead of me. I had this realization that I also grieve and long for some of the things you had that I don’t have. And can we just say you aren’t just one person. There were so many version of you throughout the years. You were constantly becoming. You lived as fully as you could within the confines you had to stay inside of. I am getting to be so many of the parts you couldn’t be and with that comes grief and loss hand in hand with the fullness and joy.  I am struggling to contain it all, alone. Maybe I am not meant to. I think I still need you. I don’t know what it is like to life hand and hand with you. What if you don’t have to die so that I can live.

People are going to ask for you this week. What does it look like for us both to be there? I could be angry or sad every time they ask for you instead of me… They don’t see me or want me…. Who is going to love me for me?…

What would it be like to be securely attached to myself in that moment? To know that I am safe, loved, and enough, without them affirming or acknowledging me? I already contain what I need. We have done that together.

What would it be like to choose to bring you along? I know you brought me along all those years, even when we didn’t know I existed. I was there with you. I am here because of you. I can’t existed apart from you. I would have to cut off part of me. I know that some have to cut off parts to live. There are so many reasons that has to happen. What if there is another way for us that is unique to the way we experience this world?

You spent your whole life paving the way for me. I can see how much you tried to create a path for me to be known, to shield me from as much hurt and pain as you could. You held my hand as I began to take form and introduced me to everyone you knew who would hold me as lovingly and tenderly as you do. You were my shield and my support when others didn’t.

I think I thought I didn’t need you anymore. That it was time for you to just fade away. And maybe someday that time will come. I thought it should be now. hmm, “should”…

I am not ready for you to go. Will you stay until I am ready? Will you travel “home” with me? I don’t want to go alone.

I want someone who knows me and loves me to be there at the gatherings. I want someone who can share a glance with me when I am humanning. Like the gentle squeeze of a friend’s hand in a space, reminding me that I am not lost in the crowd, unseen.

I keep trying to human alone and it isn’t working. It feels empty or flat, like a picture with the colors muted or a song missing all the major and minor chords that bring it life. You bring aliveness to my life. Trying to hide you, leave you behind, or cut you off is hurting me. I don’t quite know what it will be like to bring you along either. Can I be my full expansive self with you there to?

I want to try, my love, hand in hand.

Jesik

P.S. I think I have a lot more to say. So many of these thoughts have entire stories and ideas to unpack and visit. Can we talk again soon?

we created magic together
nothing either of us could do alone
nothing either of us owned
not mine
not yours
only ours
we both came with our fullness
and let it be seen
be felt
be touched
that was the beauty
the magic

i miss our magic
our beauty
it was incredible
it wasn’t mine to cling to
i needed you to make our magic

and yet our magic is still here
i live it
when i remember how i felt with you
when i rereading our conversations
when i think about what i wish i could tell you
and realize i can feel your response

our magic is still here

i am learning i can make new magic
it contains a little of you
my magic has a little of you in it now
i can bring my fullness
and see others fullness
and we make magic
not the same magic
not our magic
nothing can be ours
this new magic is sacred too

i can find life
and hope
and beauty again
making magic

today, i cried
you were alone
i wish you hadn’t needed to be alone
i know you needed to
i still ache for what could have been
the future you saw for us
the future i saw for us
i still had more love for you
i still have more love for you
and for me

you made space
for those around you to human
you humaned so fully
maybe too much for one person
i wish you could have told me more
it could have been scary
it would have been beautiful
it was never meant to be just you
holding it alone

you unlocked eyes in me that see
the sacred
the holy
in myself
in others
you listened when i told you
the things i wanted to keep hidden
and you loved
i didn’t know those parts were lovable
i know now
thank you

you taught me to hold those parts
with all the tenderness and awe i am capable of
for myself
for others
you live on in the way i love
and hold space
the hurting or scared parts are a treasure
they are real and raw
i am learning to let others see the real and raw me
thank you for that parting gift
it has become my lifeline
my mantra to live into each moment
finding peace with who i am
and sharing that peace with those around me

will i ever stop thanking you
for coming into my life
for changing my life
i hope not
i have a lifetime of love
and grief
and gratitude

i get to keep living
and giving
and loving
i know there are days i don’t want to
i just want to stop
it all feels so heavy
and hard
on those days i circle back to ease
i text a friend
i drink a perfect cup of tea
or doodle for an hour
practice the art of being

i still write texts to you i never send
forming the words i want to say
heal and comfort my soul
i can know how you would respond
the look i would have see in your eyes
those incredible eyes

i miss your eyes
do you remember the night you asked me
about eye contact
i remember feeling naked
terrified to be seen
and so grateful to be seen
i didn’t realize i could say how i was feeling
i didn’t know all of feeling were safe to feel
so i would hold myself apart for others
you noticed
you gently pulled me back
i am learning to allow others in too
you showed me i could
i don’t want to hide anymore
thank you

i am different after you
i would do it again
loving you
grieving you
all worth it

i am going to keep living
and loving
i wonder who i can become
i know we will be beautiful

thank you, Kelsey
i love you, always

dinner – healing – whole universe – family – ellie – kind people – feeling deeply – candles – hugs – endings to work days – good drinks – whole entire world – friendship – medicine – leaves – love is love – mythbusters – thankful pumpkin – the past 2 months – color blue – rest – supportive texts – long phone calls – thankful pumpkins – the earth – solar power – handwritten letters – warm meals – campfires – lights – pillows – houses – gardens – banana bread – playdates – phone calls – motivation – fuzzy blankets – sleeping in – Kelsey – understanding – seed collecting – commuting via bike – picking and arranging bouquets – a tidy home – the way they made me feel – the evolution of humanity – the wild wonderful stages we go through as people – how working our hands can calm our minds – long hair – the golden orange leaves and the blue sky – regular breaks from work – sunshine – visiting family in alaska – the presence that being with dogs can bring – blue cat – Sharon – roller skating – biking – warm fall days – bread – living in a house – comforting smells – myself – riding my bike with no hands – having friends over – rainbow fires – supportive friends – trees – slow walks – friends – the ability to learn and grow – fabulous fall colors – rituals – treasuring memories – celebrating with food – marigolds – crafting, baking, cooking, artsy kinds of days – being included – new beginnings – strawberry picking in november – orange and purple bouquets – dreaming about next years garden – Parkview – Mama, Mommy, Adeline, and Avery – activists – reclaiming songs – open windows – pauses – asking for help – a cup of tea – micro self compassion – sacred silliness – abundant presence – boundaries – sense of self – snow – houses – shots – coloring pages – electronics – plumbing – trees – cars – roads – chimmneys – everything in the universe – babies – grownups – kids – doors – windows – happiness – silliness – capacity – fans – beds – snow – leaves – water bottles – legos – fire – backpacks – being kind – sharing space – warmth – trains – journaling – music with Ms Michelle – written words – dreams – listening to birds – wood – houses – lights – books – internet – electricity – bricks – infinity – pencils – football – self awarness – feeling – tears – quiet days – clean house – new napkins – being excited about green beans – reflection – loving the me that is

I don’t know if you will ever read this. I don’t know if I will ever polish these thoughts enough to be published. But right now, maybe it is enough to just write them down.

I am sad. I feel like I am not supposed to be sad. Why am I resistant to what is? I am “supposed” to be grateful and thankful, at peace with what is. I am supposed to find joy and delight in the midst of hard things. I want to have  a fairy tale ending. I’ve spent my whole life trying to find my happy ending. What if this is all there ever is going to be? What if my fairy tale ending never comes? What if pain and loss just is without a redeeming quality in the end? Can I make peace with that?

Finding peace with the acceptance of who I am regardless of what others think

An excerpt from “How to Live Fully” by Kelsey

I flew to visit a friend for a weekend when I was dating Kelsey. I had a lovely weekend and was so grateful for the chance to reconnect. When I got home, Kelsey was there to pick me up from the airport. I missed them so much. We got so little time to be together. They had told me before I boarded that they wouldn’t be able to stay the night. They needed sleep and they needed to be in their own bed. I was grateful they knew what they needed and could share that need with me. And I was sad I would only get the 20 minute drive home with them. I didn’t know what to do with all this feeling. Everything I had been taught was that both of these feeling couldn’t both exist. If I wanted to truly be grateful for Kelsey’s boundaries, I couldn’t be sad about them. So, what happens when I feel both at the same time?

I hid in the bathroom of the airport after deboarding and cried. Typing out this text to Kelsey

Jess:
Kelsey, I’m sad. I hate that I am sad. I know you need rest and space. I know I need rest and space. I want to stop wanting things so much and I can’t. I can’t not want things. I can’t not be sad. I don’t know how to be in this world with all my wants. Your boundaries and needs are so important to me. I don’t want to numb myself. I don’t want to withdrawal from you. I don’t know how to feel it all.

Kelsey:
let’s chat about this <3

And so, I left my stall, dried my face, and walked out to get in their car.

We talked on the drive to my house. They dropped me off. Then drove the 20 mins home to their house.  When they got home, I got this text:

Kelsey:
I know it’s hard to be feeling the feelings you’re feeling. I hope you know that I see you and accept you. Your feelings are valid and you are loved.

Jess:
Thank you…I get so scared. I feel so sure and unsure at the same time.

Kelsey:
…Do you know what you need?

Jess:
What do I need? I need to brush my teeth and get in bed. I think everything else is a want.

Kelsey:
What do you want?

Jess:
I want to know what you are feeling.

Kelsey:
I am feeling a ridiculous amount of love towards you. I am feeling sad that I can’t be there with you tonight and also meet my needs. I am feeling like there is not enough time or space in the world to show you how deeply I feel for you.

 

Rereading this texting thread is so hard and sad and comforting and beautiful all at the same time. I am reminded that these moments of beauty and vulnerability and love existed. I got to experience them. I got to allow someone else to really see me the moments I most wanted to mask, to hide. And the connection I got to experience when the person I showed myself to responded with not just acceptance, but also love.

The magnitude of my grief and loss isn’t too much when I remember what I have lost. And the fear that this loss will never truly lessen is a hard truth to hold. What if this is all there ever is? How in the world do I find joy again. How do I open myself up to love again when I know what it is like to lose it? I don’t know that I can handle more lose right now. I don’t feel like I am “handling” this loss. Maybe I need a new definition for “handling”. Maybe that can be something to explore later.

You can’t force order onto pain. You can’t make grief tidy or predictable. Grief is as individual as love: every life, every path, is unique…

To do grief well depends solely on individual experience. It means listening to your own reality. It means acknowledging pain and love and loss. It means allowing the truth of these things space to exist without any artificial tethers or states or requirements.

Megan Devine
It’s OK that You’re Not OK
pg 31

Is sitting with pain like working a muscle? You come again and I greet you, warmly at first. You remind me that I have the ability to feel now and I cherish that. But soon, I forget the life that feeling brings and I am ready, once again to shut it all down.  Maybe there is fear that I will find my limit. I withdraw when I am in pain. I hide it from others. I try to find all the ways to get rid of it, alone. On my own, I think I do have limits to the pain I can handle. I am not meant to handle it alone. I want to reach out, I want to let others in. The fear of anticipatory pain keeps me silent and withdrawn. I feel like I have shrunk down inside myself, creating a bubble around me. Can I believe I am strong enough to risk connection?

We must risk delight. We can do without pleasure,
but not delight. Not enjoyment. We must have
the stubbornness to accept our gladness in the ruthless
furnace of this world.

-Jack Gilbert, A Brief For The Defense

This week I have been reflecting on my life, past and future. So many times , it has been all I could do to practice gentleness with myself. I am a careful person. I believe that part of myself has been so important in protecting me, getting me to this point. But what if I am strong enough now to not need as much protection? What if I can handle more? I want to believe in myself enough to take risks. I want to risk delight, knowing I can handle disappointment. I want to risk gentleness, knowing my worth is not tied to my productivity. I want to risk creation, knowing the process is more important than the product. I want to risk connection, knowing vulnerability is essential to living. I want to risk presence, knowing I am strong enough to be here.

I know we are a week out from Thanksgiving. It was a hard day for me to be grateful. Trying to be kind with myself and the timing I need.

This week I have thought about how my grief has stayed the same and how it has shifted. I think I have started being less resistant or reluctant to my grief and maybe even loving toward that part of me. I think about where that grief comes from and I feel joy. I experience profound grief because I experienced profound joy. “I get to grieve” instead of “I have to grieve”. That joy and love I got to experience with K and with myself through my connect with K has changed me.

I am grateful the shock of K’s death has lessoned. I can feel grief more without everything going numb. It doesn’t punch me in the gut quite so hard as much. I hope that with practice, I can welcome my grief so it doesn’t have to hit so abruptly to get my attention. Maybe it is like a child that has been trying to wait patiently for assistance and if we don’t respond, they will do what it takes to get our attention.

I am grateful the traumas I experienced right after their death feel less controlling of my inner landscape. I am sure they will still impact me moving forward. I am grateful I have been able to talk about them with safe and supportive people. I can remember who I am and what is true about me.

I read this question today from Andrea Gibson:

What comes to mind when you imagine yourself wildly free?

I imagine myself being safe and loved and secure enough to not live in fear of my humanity.  I imagine lightness and curiosity. I imagine capacity to explore discomfort without getting stuck in the fear that it will break me. I imagine being deeply and unshakably in love with me.

Thank you, K, for coming into my life. I am so grateful to have been loved by you.

One day, in the fall, as water and air cooled, at some precise temperature an ancient bell sounded in the turtle brain. A signal: Take a deep breath. Each creature slipped off her log and swam for the warmer muck bottom…She closed her eye and dug into the mud. She buried herself.

And then, pulled into her shell, encased in darkness, she settled into a deep stillness. Her heart slowed–and slowed–almost stopping. Her body temperature dropped–and stopped just short of freezing.

…

To survive a cold that would kill her or slow her so that predators would kill her, she slows herself beyond breath in a place where breath is not possible.

And waits. As ice locks in the marsh water and howling squalls batter its reeds and brush, beneath it all she waits It is her one work, and it is not easy. Oxygen depletion stresses every particle of her…So, though she is dissolving, every stressed particle of her stays focused on the silver bead of utter quietude.

It’s the radical simplicity that will save her. And deep within it, at the heart of her stillness, something she has no need to name, but something we might call trust; that one day, yes, the world will warm again, and with it, her life.

–All Creation Waits
Gayle Boss

I read this story to my kids tonight and ended in tears. I feel that darkness, that stillness. I feel myself withdrawing into quietude for safety, slowing everything down to be present to all that is right now. And waiting.

“It is [my] one work, and it is not easy.”

My soul cried when I read the final sentence. The days are long.  In these depths, the only hope I have is to trust that “one day… they world will warm again, and with it, [my] life.”