When You Don't Know What to Say
There's a school of thought that holds that when it comes to writing, if you don't know what to say then you should just keep writing anyway because eventually you'll get past the block. Since this blog is about writing about religion, I suppose it's just as good a place as any to work through the block, especially because it's all experimental non-fiction anyway.
I think I probably need a glass of wine to work through the block.
And maybe some cold medicine since I have caught a cold I can't shake.
There. That's better. The cat, the dog, and I are sitting in the living room doing our seperate things. The dog is sleeping, the cat is grooming, and I am trying to sort out my thoughts.
It's been 12 years since my high school best friend killed herself. This year was easier than the others. Each year gets a little easier. I think maybe my concious mind found it easier than my subconcious mind, given the fact that I spent it freezing beans and squash, making salsa, making pesto, and making pasta salad from the time I got home until the time I went to bed. I realized the next day that it had been The Day.
I used to envy her, think she was brave, hate God about her, want to follow her. Now I think it's just sad. It's incredibly sad. There are so many things she missed, things she'd have liked. She would have liked being a grown-up with her own house and pets and yard. She would have liked having a garden like I do. She would have liked being married.
I probably would have liked who I was going to be before she killed herself. Most days I like who I am now, though, except that sometimes I forget to feed the dog on time, and sometimes I drink too much, and sometimes I'm not a patient wife. Sometimes I forget to live in the here and now because I'm always thinking about who will leave me next.
A lot of people took it upon themselves to cause me a lot of heartache before my wedding, and some continue to try to do so, but I love him, and it was a good decision. He is the love of my life; I've never loved anyone the way I love him. He's working again, and I'm on my own a lot, and it's the first time in my life that I haven't loved being alone. I'm lonely; I miss him. He's the only one I let in that much. When I think about how much panic I suffered on that day because my parents weren't happy or a few friends weren't happy or a couple of people on Facebook weren't happy, or a stupid test we took wasn't happy, I smile smally to myself. Best. Decision. Ever.
I love being married. I love being married to my husband. I don't think I'd like being married to anyone else. And it's hard. The first few weeks were particularly rough, and I thought to myself, I know I'm not the only one, so I don't know what all those bitches were being so smug about. But at the end of the day, I love it.
Life keeps taking pot shots at us. I try not to blame anybody. But sometimes I blame God. Sometimes I blame myself. Sometimes I blame the people who I know were praying I'd change my mind and do something sensible. What they thought that was, I don't know. I'm going to do something even less sensible before I'm done, too. I'm going to do what I should have done a long time ago. I'm going to go get my MFA in writing. And I don't care that it's not profitable. There's nothing else I want to invest that much time and money in. I want to learn to write better, beautifully, achingly. I want to make crying people laugh. I want to make them cry, too.
A lot of people died this summer, and one in particular shook me up. She found out she was dying and a week later, she was dead. And I think that would be the worst--no time off, no time for reflection, no time to finish a couple of things on the bucket list. And it was hard because we'd grown closer; she'd talked to me the way I wished my mom or a few of my friends would. She was excited and happy and she said she could just tell that we were in love and that he was a kind man. She was excited to hear my stories; she didn't just stare blankly at me. She ooo'ed and ahhh'ed at my dress and at my invitations and at everything else I showed her. She told me stories about her husband and how in love they'd been and how she still loved him and missed him. And she told me she was sorry that my parents couldn't accept my fiance and how ridiculous she thought that was. She told me that they would come around and that I needed to follow my heart. She told me that she just knew we were going to be so happy together, she could just tell. When I was sinking, she shared her raft with me for awhile. I thought of her words on my wedding day. She teared up when she talked about her late husband. The stories she shared about her love for him were beautiful stories, and I'm thankful to have heard them. And I'm so glad I told her how much that meant to me before she left for the summer because I didn't get another chance. It meant the world to me. I miss her deeply.
Here's the thing. I don't want to get to the end of my life and realize that I missed out on a lot of things that I would have loved. Because not everyone knows when the end will be. Some people, like my high school friend, choose. Some people, like my grandma, seem to live forever and have lots of time granted to them, but maybe they don't enjoy it as much as they could. Some people get months and have the resources to be able to have a few last hurrahs. But most of us don't know when we're going. We just go.
When I go, I don't want to be saddled with regrets. When I go, I want to travel lightly and know that I had a blessed life, a full life, a life I enjoyed living with people who enjoyed me. I want to have beautiful stories to share with people who are in doubt.
Some people live their lives like everybody's on trial and has to stand up under fire and tribulation, but I don't really believe that's the way life is. Life is just life. Everybody gets one. Try to be kind to each other while you live it and try to get the most out of it. I don't really think it's that complicated. Enjoy yourself and don't hurt yourself or anybody if you can help it. Do no harm.
And if you don't do it right today, get up tomorrow and tackle the next day with more grace. What else can you do? Try to be as kind to yourself as you are to others and vice versa. Try to feed the dog on time.
I could spend a lifetime asking myself what I could have done differently to make various people stay. But I'm not going to do that. I'm going to live a life I choose. Maybe it's not the life others would have chosen. That's good. Life would be pretty boring if we all chose the same path.
I think I probably need a glass of wine to work through the block.
And maybe some cold medicine since I have caught a cold I can't shake.
There. That's better. The cat, the dog, and I are sitting in the living room doing our seperate things. The dog is sleeping, the cat is grooming, and I am trying to sort out my thoughts.
It's been 12 years since my high school best friend killed herself. This year was easier than the others. Each year gets a little easier. I think maybe my concious mind found it easier than my subconcious mind, given the fact that I spent it freezing beans and squash, making salsa, making pesto, and making pasta salad from the time I got home until the time I went to bed. I realized the next day that it had been The Day.
I used to envy her, think she was brave, hate God about her, want to follow her. Now I think it's just sad. It's incredibly sad. There are so many things she missed, things she'd have liked. She would have liked being a grown-up with her own house and pets and yard. She would have liked having a garden like I do. She would have liked being married.
I probably would have liked who I was going to be before she killed herself. Most days I like who I am now, though, except that sometimes I forget to feed the dog on time, and sometimes I drink too much, and sometimes I'm not a patient wife. Sometimes I forget to live in the here and now because I'm always thinking about who will leave me next.
A lot of people took it upon themselves to cause me a lot of heartache before my wedding, and some continue to try to do so, but I love him, and it was a good decision. He is the love of my life; I've never loved anyone the way I love him. He's working again, and I'm on my own a lot, and it's the first time in my life that I haven't loved being alone. I'm lonely; I miss him. He's the only one I let in that much. When I think about how much panic I suffered on that day because my parents weren't happy or a few friends weren't happy or a couple of people on Facebook weren't happy, or a stupid test we took wasn't happy, I smile smally to myself. Best. Decision. Ever.
I love being married. I love being married to my husband. I don't think I'd like being married to anyone else. And it's hard. The first few weeks were particularly rough, and I thought to myself, I know I'm not the only one, so I don't know what all those bitches were being so smug about. But at the end of the day, I love it.
Life keeps taking pot shots at us. I try not to blame anybody. But sometimes I blame God. Sometimes I blame myself. Sometimes I blame the people who I know were praying I'd change my mind and do something sensible. What they thought that was, I don't know. I'm going to do something even less sensible before I'm done, too. I'm going to do what I should have done a long time ago. I'm going to go get my MFA in writing. And I don't care that it's not profitable. There's nothing else I want to invest that much time and money in. I want to learn to write better, beautifully, achingly. I want to make crying people laugh. I want to make them cry, too.
A lot of people died this summer, and one in particular shook me up. She found out she was dying and a week later, she was dead. And I think that would be the worst--no time off, no time for reflection, no time to finish a couple of things on the bucket list. And it was hard because we'd grown closer; she'd talked to me the way I wished my mom or a few of my friends would. She was excited and happy and she said she could just tell that we were in love and that he was a kind man. She was excited to hear my stories; she didn't just stare blankly at me. She ooo'ed and ahhh'ed at my dress and at my invitations and at everything else I showed her. She told me stories about her husband and how in love they'd been and how she still loved him and missed him. And she told me she was sorry that my parents couldn't accept my fiance and how ridiculous she thought that was. She told me that they would come around and that I needed to follow my heart. She told me that she just knew we were going to be so happy together, she could just tell. When I was sinking, she shared her raft with me for awhile. I thought of her words on my wedding day. She teared up when she talked about her late husband. The stories she shared about her love for him were beautiful stories, and I'm thankful to have heard them. And I'm so glad I told her how much that meant to me before she left for the summer because I didn't get another chance. It meant the world to me. I miss her deeply.
Here's the thing. I don't want to get to the end of my life and realize that I missed out on a lot of things that I would have loved. Because not everyone knows when the end will be. Some people, like my high school friend, choose. Some people, like my grandma, seem to live forever and have lots of time granted to them, but maybe they don't enjoy it as much as they could. Some people get months and have the resources to be able to have a few last hurrahs. But most of us don't know when we're going. We just go.
When I go, I don't want to be saddled with regrets. When I go, I want to travel lightly and know that I had a blessed life, a full life, a life I enjoyed living with people who enjoyed me. I want to have beautiful stories to share with people who are in doubt.
Some people live their lives like everybody's on trial and has to stand up under fire and tribulation, but I don't really believe that's the way life is. Life is just life. Everybody gets one. Try to be kind to each other while you live it and try to get the most out of it. I don't really think it's that complicated. Enjoy yourself and don't hurt yourself or anybody if you can help it. Do no harm.
And if you don't do it right today, get up tomorrow and tackle the next day with more grace. What else can you do? Try to be as kind to yourself as you are to others and vice versa. Try to feed the dog on time.
I could spend a lifetime asking myself what I could have done differently to make various people stay. But I'm not going to do that. I'm going to live a life I choose. Maybe it's not the life others would have chosen. That's good. Life would be pretty boring if we all chose the same path.
posted by GetMeThrough at
7:36 PM
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