Sweet Mariam,
In one of my writing group calls several weeks ago, we were discussion the process of feeling that which we would rather avoid. I recommended Tara Brach's "R.A.I.N." method, joking that it's a good way to structure your emotional breakdown.
Someone commented that "structured breakdown" wouldn't be a terrible name for a band.
The structure may or may not be possible, but the crucial thing is knowing to break down when then time has come to do so. holding on to denial rids us of none of the agony: it only made it chronic, lets it rot us. There is a courage, and also a sense of relief, to declaring that you are in a time of crisis, a pit of despair.
I wish you courage, in this time.
I wish you relief.
*
From our frequent messages these past few weeks, I have been impressed by several things.
In the past, when the unthinkable has happened to me, when the floor has seemed to be swept out from under me and there is nothing to hold onto, there is always the impulse to recede into denial. Or- a personal favourite- to cook up fanciful "Plan B's" in my head, hysterically and without pause, not able to sit in the panic and fear of the moment.
You are in a state of profound grief, grief for the "dream deferred" as you put it, grief for the consistency and stability you have always craved- but that was, for one moment, so close you could touch it.
It was not until these past weeks that I have truly understood the implications of all that you have told me about your life thus far.
It was not until you explained that what might have been one facet of someone else's life, this thing that has suddenly become unattainable, was for you the totality of your plans, your safety. What you do, where you're going, where you live, what you live on.
To live without the slightest safety net, to have no time at all to recalibrate and work out a new plan about how you will survive, as well as progress, must be a relentless attack on your spirit.
How does one bare the injustice of that?
How does one carve out the time to process the rage, the loss...
On a smaller note- how does a friend create space for that pain, that rage, a loss she does not know and has not truly known, and from many miles away?
For now all I can offer is my love, for whatever it is worth.
I wish you time to unravel and untangle yourself.
I wish you courage in feeling each pang and wave.
I wish you relief from the tightness of the responsibilities and tasks that bind you up.
I wish you time to rest, time to feel empty, and time to fill up slowly.
When I am empty, of energy, of tenacity, of fighting spirit, I often feel in a rush to fill up.
It is the difference between an exhaustion combatted with a triple espresso vs one cured with good food and rest.
The problem of course being that the latter is harder to access, not to speak of the patience and wisdom it requires.
*
Last night I finally arrived at the house in the South.
I am trying not to fly, so we drove. a night on the boat followed by three days of driving, and finally we are here.
I have spent the last months in a period of worse than usual health- these past days in the car had some lovely moments and stops, but ultimately destroyed what little bit of energy and strength I had retained. on the last leg of that journey, I felt almost breathless, so unspeakably filled with stiffness and exhaustion that part of me was surprised I was still alive.
Yet this place, this garden, this air- it is like an exhale. I was reminded immediately of an old feeling from childhood, of coming here and feeling safe, cut off from the world.
It's the knowledge that you will be here for a long stretch of time, and that during that time you can finally lay down all that you have carried- you can sit under the shade of trees and listen to the Cicadas and the wood pigeons and rest your weary little heart and slowly, day by scorching day, be refilled.
I wish you the pleasure of feeling that when you come here next month. I wish you the remedy of la belle saison.
I wish you kindness to yourself, I wish you ruthlessness, I wish you courage and permission to fall apart, violently, shamelessly, indulgently. I wish you angsty playlists and journal entries and good food and bad wine.
Tara Brach says to process emotions we must Recognise, Accept, Investigate, and Nurture.
I wish you summer Rain.
I wish you safe passage.