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A Dialog on Loss
6 years ago
I was torn between that title and 'This isn't really for anybody' because I don't know if I'm really going to hit that 'submit' button by the time I finish typing, backspacing, backspacing, typing and more backspacing. If I do, I know I'm inviting people into my home, into my brain and into my heart which is something I don't think I'm famous for. (at least, not as famous as 'welcome to my penis.')
I had a dream this morning. Right before I woke up, so it's still already starting to fade from my brain meats. I was back home, by which I mean the house I grew up in. I hadn't left there until some scant few years ago, which is why I still have to call it home more than any other place I will probably ever be. I recall walking in from coming outside (what I was doing outside has already left my sphere of memory) and my mother asking me about some e-cig (I think it was Juul) refills that were suppose to "last longer." I said I'd look into it and went to the bathroom to wash up. My hair was a mess. And it was full - another sign that this was a dream. While alternating between trying figure out when I'd dyed my hair green (and how the green was in the roots and not the tips) and reading reviews for what I'd best describe now as pods filled with glitter, I started to grow frustrated with the vague instructions I'd been given. Looking back on it, my mother would've laughed as smoking became a modern fad again, and done so while puffing on her Winston 100s Lights (in a box!) So, in my dream, I called her up. And she answered. I think it was her. Or some voice amalgamation between her and my wife. (we marry our parents, kids, just remember that) She answered... and my voice caught in my throat. It wasn't that Resident Evil style 'Something is wrong, I can feel it' kind of revelation. It was more the gentle settling of some aspect of death, landing on my shoulder and telling me it was time to go. I'd realized it had to be a dream because she has been gone. And so I went. I returned my conscious to the land of the living. And I thought about you.
My first, immediate thought was 'Do you tell someone it ever stops hurting?' And I had to first evaluating if I was indeed, actually hurting. This is the part where I start to question just deleting this all and not hitting that submit button: speculation on my own fears and failures. See, I knew I'd cry a few times, thinking about the dream and thinking about sharing the dream, but I really don't know if that's my emotions at work or me working through the motions. I recently found out that one of my happy-go-lucky, wacky, wild co-workers is (honestly? or equally? - depends on how real you think my issues are, I suppose) detached from his emotions. The 'I'm a veteran of war; I have seen the face of death' kind of detached. Yet he is still so outwardly zany, goofy. I'm coming to terms with maybe he doesn't shun me nearly as much as I think he does, just that he's hard to form a more than superficial bond with. Which I don't know if my co-workers think that about me. I tried hanging out with them last night and cut out early to just go sit by myself and eat pizza.
Where was I? outside of my own delusions? Loss. Right. Four panels. Let's go.
I don't know, man. Are there days that go by that I don't think about it? Sure. Does that fact really bother me? define me as heartless person? No, not really. I'd like to think I am who I am today because of great losses, great sacrifices just as much as great triumphs and gains. And maybe in the grand scheme of things 3 years and some change isn't what most people would call a 'great span of time' but I'd like to think it's long enough that some douche bag would hear you say this sort of thing, lovingly tap the back of his hand against your groin and say 'move the fuck on.' I think I have, though. I've moved on enough to know that it's okay to revisit in trying times (like I'm expecting to soon enter again; what I think is the reason I had this dream) but it's not safe to stay there. I stayed there for a whole year. It's a year that I know nobody would excuse today. And as damning as that is I think I can safely say I'm better today than I was yesterday, and the day before that. And so on and so forth. And I think the best thing I can do, in memory, is keep striving to pull forward.
If you read all that and have nothing to say I understand, and I'm not sorry. Less a 'dialog' and more one person speaking into the ether; speaking it in to existence. Not a question, not a subject of debate. Just my thoughts on the matter. And that's cool. If all it did was help you, great. If it made you question yourself, your current course of action, your very being today - I'm glad, because I'd be totally fine with talking to you about it. Note me if you need to, even if it's just to ask for my DM handles. But just a forewarning: if you are going through something right now, right this second, what I'm going to tell you isn't going to be what you wanna hear - it never is - and you may not even look back on it some day and realize it's what you needed to hear. It may just be one person's crazy pov. But I will talk with you. About anything. Even if I have no experience! ... that fact may be dangerous. So if you're compelled to talk, do so, even if it's not to me. Use me as a jumping off point if you need to. "This wacky guy on the internet said..." is a great way to tell your friends that what you're about to say it's pure hogwash, but it is still an easy way to breach a subject that you may have a hard time talking about.
Update: 'Submit' is now 'Create/Update.' ... woo. Here. We. Go.
I had a dream this morning. Right before I woke up, so it's still already starting to fade from my brain meats. I was back home, by which I mean the house I grew up in. I hadn't left there until some scant few years ago, which is why I still have to call it home more than any other place I will probably ever be. I recall walking in from coming outside (what I was doing outside has already left my sphere of memory) and my mother asking me about some e-cig (I think it was Juul) refills that were suppose to "last longer." I said I'd look into it and went to the bathroom to wash up. My hair was a mess. And it was full - another sign that this was a dream. While alternating between trying figure out when I'd dyed my hair green (and how the green was in the roots and not the tips) and reading reviews for what I'd best describe now as pods filled with glitter, I started to grow frustrated with the vague instructions I'd been given. Looking back on it, my mother would've laughed as smoking became a modern fad again, and done so while puffing on her Winston 100s Lights (in a box!) So, in my dream, I called her up. And she answered. I think it was her. Or some voice amalgamation between her and my wife. (we marry our parents, kids, just remember that) She answered... and my voice caught in my throat. It wasn't that Resident Evil style 'Something is wrong, I can feel it' kind of revelation. It was more the gentle settling of some aspect of death, landing on my shoulder and telling me it was time to go. I'd realized it had to be a dream because she has been gone. And so I went. I returned my conscious to the land of the living. And I thought about you.
My first, immediate thought was 'Do you tell someone it ever stops hurting?' And I had to first evaluating if I was indeed, actually hurting. This is the part where I start to question just deleting this all and not hitting that submit button: speculation on my own fears and failures. See, I knew I'd cry a few times, thinking about the dream and thinking about sharing the dream, but I really don't know if that's my emotions at work or me working through the motions. I recently found out that one of my happy-go-lucky, wacky, wild co-workers is (honestly? or equally? - depends on how real you think my issues are, I suppose) detached from his emotions. The 'I'm a veteran of war; I have seen the face of death' kind of detached. Yet he is still so outwardly zany, goofy. I'm coming to terms with maybe he doesn't shun me nearly as much as I think he does, just that he's hard to form a more than superficial bond with. Which I don't know if my co-workers think that about me. I tried hanging out with them last night and cut out early to just go sit by myself and eat pizza.
Where was I? outside of my own delusions? Loss. Right. Four panels. Let's go.
I don't know, man. Are there days that go by that I don't think about it? Sure. Does that fact really bother me? define me as heartless person? No, not really. I'd like to think I am who I am today because of great losses, great sacrifices just as much as great triumphs and gains. And maybe in the grand scheme of things 3 years and some change isn't what most people would call a 'great span of time' but I'd like to think it's long enough that some douche bag would hear you say this sort of thing, lovingly tap the back of his hand against your groin and say 'move the fuck on.' I think I have, though. I've moved on enough to know that it's okay to revisit in trying times (like I'm expecting to soon enter again; what I think is the reason I had this dream) but it's not safe to stay there. I stayed there for a whole year. It's a year that I know nobody would excuse today. And as damning as that is I think I can safely say I'm better today than I was yesterday, and the day before that. And so on and so forth. And I think the best thing I can do, in memory, is keep striving to pull forward.
If you read all that and have nothing to say I understand, and I'm not sorry. Less a 'dialog' and more one person speaking into the ether; speaking it in to existence. Not a question, not a subject of debate. Just my thoughts on the matter. And that's cool. If all it did was help you, great. If it made you question yourself, your current course of action, your very being today - I'm glad, because I'd be totally fine with talking to you about it. Note me if you need to, even if it's just to ask for my DM handles. But just a forewarning: if you are going through something right now, right this second, what I'm going to tell you isn't going to be what you wanna hear - it never is - and you may not even look back on it some day and realize it's what you needed to hear. It may just be one person's crazy pov. But I will talk with you. About anything. Even if I have no experience! ... that fact may be dangerous. So if you're compelled to talk, do so, even if it's not to me. Use me as a jumping off point if you need to. "This wacky guy on the internet said..." is a great way to tell your friends that what you're about to say it's pure hogwash, but it is still an easy way to breach a subject that you may have a hard time talking about.
Update: 'Submit' is now 'Create/Update.' ... woo. Here. We. Go.
