Monthly Archives: August 2016

Grief Can Come In The Smallest Of Things…

And it can paralyze you in the biggest of ways.

Today, I blog for the first time in many months (which might be a surprise to some as I’m sure a lot have figured this blog for dead. Me, for dead. As a writer or otherwise.) and it’s not because something really beautiful and delicious has happened. Though many wonderful things have happened since my last post and now.

Instead, I blog for the opposite reasons.

Because, today, in the literal words of Reddit, I fucked up.

Words are not easy. Writing words is not easy, though many claim it to be so. Speaking words are even harder, I think. Because at least when it comes to writing, we can erase. We can hit the delete or backspace button as much as we can. Undo. Redo. Select all. Delete. Cut. Paste. Or maybe, even the old fashioned way. Scrubbing rubber on paper. Flakes brushed off with the sides of our fingers. Or if ink is your weapon, then slashing and scribbling is the means. All in all, when something is written, it can be taken back. If we want to, that is.

Speaking, however, cannot. Oh, we can try. We can try as hard as we can sometimes. To take back those stupid noises that tumbled out of your mouth, to retry an answer, sound less stupid, sound more confident, whatever the poison is, we can try to seep it back into our mouths and have it run back through the computer that is our brains. And sometimes, it kind of works.

Key word: kind off. Because when we think it works, when we think we’ve taken back all that we’ve said, those little words are still trapped in someone else’s minds and hearts and the damage they do is still….

….lying right there. Just covered with the bandage of whatever we’ve done to “make things right again.”

Most often, it doesn’t work though. And that, can be the deepest of pains.

Forgiveness isn’t easy. Of course, it never is.

But, sometimes, I wish it was.

Selfish as it is, I don’t like living with guilt. I don’t like my stomach twisting and turning in one ugly queasy ball. I especially don’t like losing things. Losing people. Losing people I care about. 

When one doesn’t care, it’s easy to let go. So long. Goodbye. Vaya con dios.

But when one does care, we cling as hard as we can, dig our nails in deep, claw, scrape, beg for another chance.. we do what we can so that we don’t have to let go. Even when we don’t have any other choice but to let go.

Today, I might have to let go.

And it’s the scariest thing I’ve had to consider in my entire life so far.

Even letting go of past friends, boyfriend, memories, tv shows.. all of everything that’s been in my life so far, it hasn’t been like this.

And it’s not even something, most would deem as important. But it is– was to me. It is small. Very, small. So small, it would be insignificant to everyone, but myself.

Today, I might have to let go of a friendship that was built very slowly within a three month span (though I have friendships that have been cultivated for years, the shortness of its duration is perhaps what makes it so bitter in the mouth). Something, someone, that, in my mind, was steadily becoming a friend and memory that I could hold onto dearly in the back of my mind, to look back on in sweet, innocent happiness.

Today, I was prepared to let go of a place. Not the memories it gave me. And, certainly, not the people it gave me.

And the worst part of it all, was that in the ticking countdown moments of goodbye, a few words spilling from my mouth crashed down everything that had been slowly built over those three months. Had I kept my mouth shut, had I actually thought about what I was going to stay and analyzed it, I would have realized how those words would sound like coming out. What they would mean to another person and not how I meant them to mean.

I have a problem with word vomit. I spill out whatever comes to mind, the instant it comes to mind. I don’t scan for errors, no spelling check, no grammar check. Nothing. Often times, it’s funny. Witty, or silly, or stupid. Other times, my words come out in embarrassedly backward lines and sayings. I get made fun of for those. But I think that’s fine.

Finally, there are times where I get into trouble because of my word vomit. Those times are the most awful of times. Interpretation is a funny thing– there is never just one of them. There are always many interpretations. Safe words have safe interpretations. Others do not.

I don’t think. I have that problem. And addressing my problems is never an easy task for me because I like to think that I have no problems. I don’t want to have problems. I want to be perfect. I want to be me and be perfect. And pride can be a very ugly thing.

So I haven’t addressed my word vomit like I should have. Because so far, I’ve been able to peel and press brightly colored bandages on any wound or mistake or accident so far. Because so far, I’ve been fine with bandaging. I’ve always felt that I never needed to fix it.

I’ve been fine playing faux doctor.

I can’t do that today. And as ugly as it is, a part of me still sort of wants to. Even uglier, I might actually be able to.

I said a few lines, jokes as they were to me, and I crashed down a fortitude of trust, because they did not come out as jokes. I was stupid. And I am at fault. I do not excuse myself. I fucked up. Bad. Very, bad.

I want to take everything back. Rewind those last five minutes.. keep my mouth shut and been able to say goodbye to a place and maybe not the person it gave me. It’s impossible, but how I want to.

I feel guilty.

I feel mad because I feel guilty.

I feel sad because I feel mad.

And finally, I feel numb. Because I can hear the grief creeping in. Mourning potential loss already.

I hate losing things.

I hate grief. It brings so many things. But for me, it affects me in only one way. Paralyzing. I grieve, I grow numb. And boy does it take a lot to get the blood circulating on its own again.

I don’t know where this is going, I’m not sure how to stop this mess of writing. Writing with emotion is always a mess of writing, isn’t it?

I am sorry.

I am so very sorry.

I want to be forgiven.

Will my bandage be taken?

I don’t know. I doubt it.

I am sorry.



I think I’m due for a long walk. I need to clear my head.

Getting close to things is a very scary business. We never know when we might lose them. Sorry.