Grief

holistically: emotional
and everything else

Have you seen the movie Homeward Bound? If you have, good on you. If you haven't, then I suggest you either watch it or continue under the warning that there are some spoilers. You were warned.
You were.

Remember the scene where Shadow gets stuck in that awful mud hole? He whimpers and paws frantically to get out of it while his companions try to help him, but he falls clumsily back into the mire for what seems like forever?

That's grief.

You paw and claw out of the muck and mire but you slide back down and fall on your ass. Yup. It's messy, unpredictable, but you know it's a tough mothertrucker to get out of. There is no formula, rhyme or reason.Your friends and family worry about you getting out and try wonderful and sometimes silly things to help you out. Or they're in there with you, fighting the (not so) good fight.  If they're on the outside, they'll shout suggestions, commands, encouragements, declarations of love, concern, sometimes even anger... "GET OUT!" "YOU CAN DO IT!" "KEEP TRYING!"

In case you hadn't guessed or don't know me, I'm currently grieving. I've been through this before, as many of you have, but I'm an adult this time around. The difference between then and now? Swearwords and alcohol are available (allowed).

My first dance with grief started when I was 7 years old. I've grown older since then and hopefully somewhat wiser. However, grief doesn't give a shit. It throws you into a pit and makes you feel like that scared, helpless 7 year old (except with a bottle of tequila in your grasp). The mud starts to dry up with each happy moment or memory, and you think you have enough traction to climb out. Sadness creeps in and starts to make it rain. Bye bye traction. Or maybe anger sweeps in, makes it pour, makes it rain ice pellets that you can't escape from. All you can do is sit or stand there and scream. You're not getting out today.

Then the happy memories come back... the hope. Whether or not the sun comes out, it has at least stopped raining long enough to catch your breath. You don't quite feel like "you" yet, but you don't feel like a worthless piece of shit, either.

I don't know if you remember in the movie, but Shadow makes it out. How? No idea. Some may say it got dry enough for him to climb, others may say a stick or board was there that helped him, still others may say "dog magic" or "who cares?!". The point is, he made it out (much to his family's joyous relief). Shadow survived.

Ironic name, really: Shadow. Grief does stick with you once you're out of the pit like a shadow. But I digress.

Shadow climbed out of the pit. You can climb out of grief.

Unfortunately, as this isn't the world of voice-over animals who survive amazing (impossible?) odds, there won't be a music cue or time limit on a film reel to tell you when you'll get out of the pit. The "when" isn't the point, actually. "If" is the point.

Will you make it out?

For those of you who've been through loss and grief, you clearly made it out. Even if you're still muddy years after, you made it out. So did I. Let's not analyze our performance too much, ok? Let's just give this a pass/fail. We're alive. That's a pass!

I'll climb out of this one. One day [insert emo face here]

In case you hadn't noticed, I also use humour as a coping mechanism.

Carrying on: being an adult is simultaneously helpful and maddening for dealing with grief. It's helpful in the ways I've already mentioned (larger vocabulary and access to sweet sweet scotch), but maddening in that your logic can name all the feelings you're going through and the stages of grief, but it matters ZERO PERCENT. Your feelings certainly don't give a shit. They hit, smack, kick, tickle, slap, punch, and stab you whenever they want, however they want, and for however long they want. You can name them all you want: it won't matter. They're still comin'.

This is normal. Remember that.

So what do you do to avoid grief? You don't. Sorry.

But you can do something radical once you're in the pit. Be kind to yourself. Feel the feelings. Take it hour by hour or minute by minute if you have to. Yes, the pain can be strong enough to make you want to do horrible things or numb up and waste away. Like phobias, the best way to deal with grief is to feel it and face it. It sucks. I'm not going to sugarcoat that. As for your onlookers, cheering squad, mockers, whoever: pay attention to the ones who love you and who you love. These are the ones who "get it." They likely have been through grief before, too. They don't make your pain about them or your grieving process about them. It's your ass in the pit: not theirs.

There will be those people who give you hope through it all, which will feel impossible until you feel them near. I hope you experience this if you have to go through this at all. They're earth angels. They'll be there for you no matter how messy you get. Chances are, they've been where you are. They'll let you be who you are, feel what you feel, and only interfere when you start digging yourself into a dangerous place from which you may not return.

Listen to those people.

There will be people who mean well but who don't know how to deal with other people in pain. That's their cross to bear: not yours. This doesn't make them bad or wrong; it simply means that you don't need to expend what little energy you'll have on them. That's ok.

You'll make it out. Keep going. Climb. Or just sit and bark a lot until you get bored, the music in your head swells like the ending of a movie, and you magic your way to higher ground. I won't judge. My cats are sometimes my greatest therapists, so really. I can't judge.

Good luck to you. I'm done pawing at the muddy walls for the day. Time for a break before I go at 'er again tomorrow.

Let's be REBELS

holistically: mindful

Because I feel mental these days. And I'm fine with that. 

Life has a funny way of twisting and warping your sense of time. Back in the Fall of 2015, it felt like time was trudging by, then sped up exponentially as my wedding drew nearer. Here we are. It's March, 2016: the birth month of my sister and my mother-in-law (two very special women). March also marks the anniversary of my grandmother's death (another very special woman). In between it all, St. Patty's Day shall adorn our lives with merriment and shenanigans. Quite the month.

I began typing this with a war wound from cooking: I sliced the padding of my ring finger with a potato peeler while prepping potatoes for both a tomato soup and a coconut curry.  I don't recommend it (the slicing of the finger; not the dishes...they're delicious). i'm compelled to be here, though: I'm here to step up the game with writing these posts. I've missed my e-verse. I've missed exploring familiar topics and contemplating other topics that seem fresh and alluring. This is a new year and there are new shenanigans to explore!

Why the title? It's not simply clickbait: I swear. 

I want to be a rebel, and I encourage you, my friends--my e-verse--to do the same. Against what shall we rebel? I dare us to rebel against societal norms and pressure to accept mediocrity in ourselves and in love.

I have been married 5 months. That's a drop in the bucket compared to other couples. Fully understand that, and I realize that we have a long road ahead of us filled with sunshine and storms. And those days where it's rainy and cool and makes you feel like your bones are shivering.  But mostly sunny days where there's a breeze and you could frolic all day long.

I digress.

What societal norms was I referring to before? In regard to pressures while in love...I have been teased by longer-married couples (in good humour, I reckon) about my husband and I being a "ball-and-chain" to each other. More often than not, we've heard many quips about how everything goes downhill after the wedding day. Yes, a few important things in my life did plunge into chaos after my wedding (and honeymoon), but it wasn't my marriage. 

If anything, my marriage has been getting better--or at least stronger. Hence why we got married. I did not get married just because it was the right thing to do at the time. My husband and I check in with each other all the time about life and how we're doing--we communicate with each other (shocking, I know... at least to the camps of people who believe marriage equals tolerating each other and having kids). We revel in each other's company, which has been very needed (let me tell you). We've done our best to honour when we need alone time, time with friends, time with family, and time "just us."

I admire and am humbled by my husband. Throughout some struggles that have bled into this year from 2015, he has encouraged me to radically take care of myself. This is not something I'm used to. I'm accustomed to a cortisol-fuelled, hamster-wheel lifestyle. He wants me to thrive and be happy and has done everything in his power to make it happen.

Amidst the kindness from my husband and my mission to regain my Ash-ness (and de-hamster), I'm reminded of some pesky societal pressures... I'm at that age now (i.e. any age post 25-years-old) where kids become a question, vocation is wagging its finger at me saying "make up your mind, stupid!", and I start to wonder if living in an apartment is still acceptable by society...at this age.  I'm guilty of letting these intruders in sometimes. All they're good for is pressure and stress.

Here's the part where we rebel, folks. Screw the pressure. Screw the ticking biological timebomb bullshit. Screw the notion that marriage and/or life slopes downwards after "that age" or after the most expensive (and hopefully happiest?!) day in your life.

No. I do not accept you.

Life isn't meant to be perfect, but it doesn't have to suck or be mediocre (at best). There will be shitty days and shitty periods in your life: whether you're married or not. What you hold onto and put your love and energy into during those shitty times and good times is what will thrive. If things get hard during our marriage, we haven't said "oh... this is life's expiration starting to take place. Cool." 

Instead, we've rebelled and said "hey you: we've got a good thing here and we're going to stick together." When life gets hard, we become shit-surfers, or at least help the other person onto the surfboard to ride it out together. (That whole communication thing helps a whole lot!)

If life gives you too much to be able to or want to help yourself or your spouse, then something needs to change. That's when the bullshit all piles up and the acceptance or compliance to the storm takes over. As in: "ok... this is how it's meant to be, I guess." *insert passive shrug here*

Sometimes, we need to pause in that passivity in order catch our breath and find inspiration to move forward. OF COURSE: in this passive time, be kind to your fine self and cope with what you can, when and how you can. I am a strong believer in asking for help if needed, too. 

THEN!

The magic happens when you're ready to move

ready to face change

ready to be a REBEL. 

Movement and "change" do not have to mean making things instantly sunny and happy. In fact, it practically never does. There is almost always discomfort with change, even when it leads to something beautiful. The point is to be rebellious against the status quo of whatever bullshit weight bears down on your shoulders. I dare you to not accept it just because everyone else is, or because it's common to do so for yourself or others. I dare you to be a rebel for yourself--for your heart and soul--and for your loved one(s).

It hasn't been easy rebelling against the notion that I'm becoming a boring, old, lazy, weakling due to recent life changes and decisions. I'm not ok with that and it hurts to feel like I'm becoming less of a person because of some of what's happened to me and choices I have made as I get older.

Inspired by the love in my life (from my husband, family, friends, colleagues), I dared to move and rebel against the dangers of getting older than 25. I'm sure some of the pressure and judgment I've felt has been self-imposed. That said, upon further exploration and discussion with friends and family, I've realized that an uncomfortable amount of pressure extends from long-standing societal expectations to be all wonderful things (including semi-happily married) by 25 or run the risk of being nothing at all. 

Rebel. 

Dare to balance compassion for yourself with forward momentum to evolve. I do not accept that life has to suck once I've passed 25 AND entered the institution of marriage.** I may not be WonderWoman at age 28, but my choices and circumstances have blessed me with an incredible circle of support, a mind that is mental but inspired, and a heart that is just as ok with taking care of itself as it is discovering the next mission on which it wants to embark.

Check your own pressures at the door and any pressures that may extend from the big bad world of "what everyone else is doing and saying." Dare to be you at any age, satisfy your heart at any age, and dare to be happy....... at ANY AGE, in ANY state of relationship including marriage. Life gets hard at times: it doesn't have to stay that way just because you got older and got married...or didn't. (Because being a single person past 25 is a whole other bag of.... sticks. This merits its own post some day.)

Just remember: 

Rebel.

**Please see my previous post on how I cherish marriage, if you're unsure of my feelings on the subject. :)