Write on

Anne Lamott:

“You will lose someone you can’t live without, and your heart will be badly broken,and the bad news is that you never completely get over the loss of your beloved. But this is also the good news. They live forever in your broken heart that doesn’t seal back up. And you come through it. It’s like having a broken leg that never heals perfectly – that still hurts when the weather gets cold, but you learn to dance with the limp”.

I never meant for this blog to be about loss and grief. I don’t know why it’s turning into that except that it is what it is. If my life is authentic then I have to do what’s in front of me.  I guess that, for the moment, or at least this one post, this is it…writing about grief . And about not drinking. And about fear.  Probably the same thing….I kept a lot of grief  and fear at bay by drinking.

This is what is happening in my life and there’s no point in hiding it.

I am cleaning my house, shredding,getting rid of stuff, dismantling. Dismantling a house and, in some ways. a life. It is painful and liberating. At least I believe it will be liberating, right now it is mostly painful. I barrel through; what are my choices? The grief is ever-present. Am I “manufacturing my own misery”, or am I doing what’s in front of me? Is it both? The sadness. the loss, is there whether I rid myself of stuff or hoard it.  Ridding feels better, it feels forward motion even though it hurts.  I always hurt. But it passes, that special pain. When I sit with it, when I shred it, when I take action.

My son is talking about moving out. He is my love, I adore him as much as he puzzles me, makes me crazy.  I love him and have never really understood him and I am certain he would agree with that statement. He brightens my life and hurts me beyond measure. He needs his own life; when I was 19 I was in my own apartment. But it is a different time, and he is not prepared. And I can’t control that, or him. He has to do what he believes is right. People tell me he has his own god. Like me, he has no god, at least in any traditional sense. I don’t know what will sustain him. I am afraid for him and also know that it is time. He needs to make his own life so that we can re-connect in a healthy and happy way.

I need to make my own life.

I am getting older and it scares the crap out of me. When I look at my life and my age together I am breathless, the fear is so strong. I am alone, not in my plan. I don’t have  a career, which would be ok if my life were different or if the economy hadn’t tanked or iforiforifrif…  Life (age) is what happens while we’re busy making other plans, or not making them, as the case may be. My mind is out of the house, out of the state, settled in a new life. Yet in reality,  I am caught, motionless, like the proverbial deer staring down the headlights. It’s gonna happen. Can I accept it with grace, with humour with the idea that I am and have enough? I don’t know. On any given day it changes.

I am feeling my grief and moving through it so differently now, with the beginning of sobriety and the work I am doing at Our House. It hurts, but like the Lamott quote, I’m” learning to dance with my limp”. And I am not only more present for myself, but for others too.  The idea of service is helpful; to other drunks, to others grieving the death of a beloved.  I need to be more of service to the general population, my son. my friends my family;  always open, more trusting, helpful, hopeful. The fear arises again when I think like that…my age, my lack of resources, my not enough-ness. Forward motion, right action….first the gesture then the grace.*

I really never meant for this blog to be what it is, but then I really never meant, or knew what this would become.  Actually, I’ve only written a few posts, so it is nothing yet, right?  No matter what, I knew it would be masturbatory, as all blogs are, as blog essence is. Mine is just AMAZINGLY so! That’s different…maybe I can have the most self-centered blog in the universe! (I know, I’m already way too late for that!)

Here’s the thing. I don’t care. No one even reads this (hardly). I can do or say whatever I want. And I will.


* I have taken the phrase “first the gesture then the grace” as my own, just completely co-opted it, it resonates. But it was first written by a blogger Karin L. Burke on her blog” Whisky and Porn for Everyone.” There, duty done!


Add yours →

  1. Always read. I am your hardly.

  2. and not ALL blogs are , ya know…yours is perfect. And you are hardly, hardly. xo

  3. Yup. Yes.
    I always want to read more when I’m finished.

  4. I’m into my 3rd year of blogging & by God do they (the blogs) have minds of their own. Mine have morphed & evolved & disappeared & sucked & ruled & on & on & on…
    The point? Your title.
    Write. On.

  5. That’s the beauty of blogging. You can say what you want. You can change your mind. You have no one to answer to but yourself. I’m so glad you write because I learn so much from your words.

    • thanks karen… i learn from you, so much. I have no idea what i’m doing but i’m doing it, and that has to be enough for nowpeace,



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