I tried, but it’s raining

I decided this weekend I was going to write something funny. (I am, you know. I mean, I can be). But it’s raining, and it’s been raining for two days straight. Who can be funny when it’s raining?

I contemplated putting this off and being funny tomorrow. Forecast for tomorrow: rain, all day.

So funny. Okay, well, I made an honest attempt to ride my bike while holding an umbrella. That might have made someone laugh. I didn’t, though. Because it’s effing cold, and my rain jacket and favorite boots are in the bottom of god knows what box.

So I arrived at the coffee shop later than I wanted to, wet, cold…and not funny.

I’m sure there is some eye-rolling going on. It rains here like 2 days a year. Most people are almost giddy, relishing in the anomaly and blatant reminder that fall is upon us. And all I can do is think of the last time I was cold and wet.

It was January. I was in Texas, completely alone and utterly heartbroken. And it almost took me under.

I had fallen for the wrong person, risked everything and lost so much more. So there I was, packing up all of my things, yet again, trying to figure out where to go. Did it even matter? There was no home to go back to and no one waiting for me to come home…except Biscuit.

But it’s not January anymore, Brooke. It’s September, 9 months later. And it’s fall. You love fall. It’s your favorite. People associate it with death and decay, but for me, it’s pumpkins. It’s crisp mornings, chunky sweaters and my favorite boots. It’s Halloween decorations and the crunch of leaves under my favorite boots. It’s snuggled up next to a warm fire with the person I love. And it’s Biscuit, sitting on top of a big pile of leaves, his red-orange fur blending in with the autumn colors all around him.

But my chunky sweaters and favorite boots are still in boxes that I admittedly haven’t had the stomach to unpack one more fucking time. And I got rid of most of my decorations because, to be honest, when your packing up all of your shit for the 7th time, they seem like the perfect thing to not have carry up another flight of stairs or cram into a 400-hundred-something square foot space. And the warm fire, well it’s in the house I used to live in with my amazing husband, who is no longer my husband. And Biscuit, well, he’s dead.

So I guess this year, fall is about death, because most of the things I loved last fall don’t exist anymore.

This isn’t funny, is it? Like not at all. But shit, it’s still fucking raining outside.

Okay, let’s shelf death and heartache for a beat, shall we? I wanted to make you laugh, not cry. Which I will say is one obvious perk to this weather. It’s hard to differentiate tears from rain drops.

Tears and rain drops. It really is kinda funny in a crazy, can’t really get my head around it way. It’s all water, which literally dictates whether life exists or not. But it can also take it away in a matter of seconds. It can wipe out entire villages, kill tens of thousands of people, and take you under with a force that makes breath seem like it was never an option.

But it can also bring you to a state of complete bliss within seconds. A cold sip of water on a hot day, or a hot bath on a cold night. Watching it dance across the rocks of a river bed or letting the sound of the waves kissing the sand lull you to sleep.

The ultimate paradox. You need it to live, but it’s responsible for so much death. It can bring you sheer joy or cause excruciating pain. It often can’t be seen but is always present. And it never dissipates. It changes, adapts to its circumstances, but it never diminishes. It is everywhere, all around us, but so many die because they are deprived of it. As it turns out, it is disturbingly similar to the very thing that always seems to end with tears, at least of late.

Which brings me right back to fall. A love, a dream and a precious puppy all synced up with the season, their decomposition swift, and all I could do was stand by, completely powerless, and watch…. and cry and scream and completely fall apart as they slipped further and further away until all that was left was a mound of dirt covering up a hole that I so desperately wanted to crawl into.

So here I am. Staring at this puppy next to me who is snuggled up under his person’s feet, looking down at my feet, wishing I had my favorite pair of boots on because mine are wet and my toes are cold. And I’m right back to the last time I was cold and wet. And I think of Texas and my puppy sitting in the leaves, and…

It’s funny in a it’s not really at all way, how predictable it all is. The whole cyclical thing: water, seasons, life, love..

Love, that’s what it always comes back to, where it all started. The impetus that seems to always propel me into motion, the very thing I live and breathe for, a joy like I’ve never experienced, followed by a pain so unbearable I almost wish my heart would stop, the feeling at least.

The ultimate paradox, like water, I need it to live, but it has resulted in so much loss. Some days, I feel completely depleted, yet none of it disappeared. Not a drop. It has changed, it had to; circumstances have changed a bit. It can’t be seen anymore. But it hasn’t diminished. It’s just as it was before, filling me up completely and leaving me gasping for air.

Okay, so missed my target with this one. But I’ll try again next week.

Forecast: Sunny, all week.

—-

An Addendum of sorts: Please take a minute to read Brandewijn Words latest post, Perspective. I’m beyond honored to be a part of it and think his perspective is beautiful and kind and so very needed. It just gets so easy to slip into judgment mode, to drift towards entitlement and self-righteousness contingent on our vantage point.

He ends with this, and it absolutely humbles me, but is also was a beautiful reminder. We truly are all in this together.

I make this promise to Brooke and to all of you. I will dig…deep…into her honest “telling of events” to find her and try to understand her world of this or thats. Because that is her world and her perspective… And those are the only ones that matters and the only ones I need to know.

That’s sums it up, right? Not his promise to me, but his commitment to question his vantage point, to do his best to know someone’s story and check himself when he makes an assumption or judgment…ultimately, to come from a place of empathy. Because we each have our story, right, with so many layers it gets complicated and messy, and we fuck up and do things that we regret. We hurt people, we hurt ourselves. intentionally or unintentionally. But the beautiful thing is, we get the gift of and have the capacity to step back and check ourselves, to shift our position and do what we can to understand why someone says or behaves the way they do. To practice empathy.

Desert Curmudgeon sums this up so eloquently in Yippie! We’re all Gonna Die:

Those of us who care do so because we can’t but feel otherwise if we are being honest with ourselves. There is no escape from the vulnerability of interdependence. I breathe because you do. 

alone-anime-drawing-girl-Favim.com-2444548

 

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36 thoughts on “I tried, but it’s raining

  1. Thank you so very much for this wide open post. You didn’t just touch me with this, you reached out and grabbed hold of me by the collar and held me in front of you. There are so many things I want to ask and say, but t’is not the place. Open to hearing from you if you ever wish to contact.

    Liked by 1 person

    • You are amazing. Thank you. I know, my blog is a telling of events that unfolds in a bit of a circuitous manner, so questions are valid. Most of the answers are in there on some level, the whole disaster that has been the last year, it just takes some work to piece it all together. It’s not happy, though, ‘wide open’ is how I do things, to a fault sometimes apparently. There are nuggets of funny here and there, but you definitely have to sift. But I know your point was to say you are here and give a shit, and that means the everything. All to say, silver lining is I started writing, and I landed here, and I found you and these amazing, beautiful, talented people that bring so much love and joy into days like this one. So, worth it, despite the painful path to get here. That you for taking the time to read this and reach out. You made my grey morning so much brighter.

      Liked by 1 person

  2. Pingback: Perspective – Brandewijn Words

  3. I want to give you what I only recently acquired. I literally want to extract it from my mind and give it to you. It is a way of looking at death and loss that makes one realize not only are these things inevitable, but they are already existent in the very moment you first meet someone, adopt a pet, fall in love, etc. Beginnings imply endings. Life and death are inseparable. But I can’t give it to you in a comment. I can’t even give it to you in spoken words. This year, I lost my beautiful dog Bernadette, my cat Carl, and I saw my 86 year old mother declining to a point of near immobility. I dated no one and spent much time alone. But I am okay. I am better than okay. I am ready to love again with a vigor I’ve never had. History tells me I’ll probably squander this unlikely state of openness in continued solitude. Therefore, if it were at all possible, I would give it to you, Brooke, to do with as you will. May all the magic potential of the season find you.

    Liked by 3 people

    • Jesus, Paul. (can I call you that?!!) You somehow always have the very words that go straight through me, in the sense that I stop breathing for a second and my heart feels like it is going to implode. I can literally feel the sincerity and just fucking love, and it melts me. I wish you could give it to me, too. Of course I know it intrinsically. I’ve experienced death and loss before I even understand what they meant. That aside, fuck, there was just so much of it at once. And I clearly feel emotions as if they make up every single molecule in every single cell of my body (I guess they kinda do). But it was just too much, P. Saving grace is that I am relentless, and I refuse to resign myself to cynicism. I just won’t. I will keep loving like I always have, and it will be with the vigor you speak of and the passion that seems to take the reigns when I find something or someone I love.
      On a side note, although beginnings of course imply endings, I don’t believe history thus implies future. In fact, I know it doesn’t. Unless that is what we choose. So it appears no love shall be squandered, because I know you know that. I mean, that’s what magic is, right?

      Liked by 1 person

    • God bless you! I suppose when you are immersed in it for that long, it becomes the norm and you adapt. This was the case for me when I lived in Paris. It was soggy all the time, and I was still funny…but it WAS Paris. Thanks for taking the time to read and I think you are funny, too. 🙂

      Like

    • Wow, that is such a beautiful compliment! Thank you so much. It’s not easy, girl. It physically hurts sometimes….but it hurts worse if I don’t. I love your writing, too!. This line got me from ‘Turning the Calendar’ “Personally, I find myself looking out at the trees in the morning, coffee mug in hand, to note the leaves are strutting a newly acquired shade of yellow. With time, they will release their hold and fall to the ground helplessly, sort of how I aimed to fall in love this Summer”. That’s poetry, girl…now just give me 9, 970ish more. 🙂

      Liked by 1 person

      • My mind is like a popcorn machine, tons of ideas everywhere, it’s getting the right ones into the same bag that is the trick for me. I’ll keep at it and enjoy reading your works of art along the way. It means a great deal that you make the time to comment…thank you, you are a beautiful soul.

        Liked by 1 person

      • Ohhh, I so feel the same about you. And seriously, my mind is like a popcorn machine!! You are fucking brilliant. Keep writing, no matter how scattered they feel..they have a way of landing exactly where they should…and you just made crave popcorn!! 🙂 Big hug!

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  4. Pingback: Gypsy Soul-dier – Brandewijn Words

    • Oh my god. How did I miss this?!!! Shit, BW! (what do I call you, btw?). Well, this is DEFINITELY a first. The only other poem that I was written for/about me to my knowledge was about 20 years ago. I don’t have words right now…like none. Going to reread…and probably print it out and frame it. 🙂

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  5. Hey lady!

    Facing reality is no fun! Sure, you have to pretend and adult during your day job, but the rest of the time you are free to believe in magic!

    Can people really pull bunnies out of top hats or money from the sky? Hell no! Watching your child take their first step or say I love you for the first time …. I dare someone to tell me magic is not real then! :)!

    Magic comes in all shapes and sizes, one just had to be open to the moment :)!

    Loving your posts BTW! Thank you for sharing with the world!

    If you have a minute stop over to MummaBug.wordpress.com 🙂 … we love new friends!

    Liked by 1 person

  6. This is beautiful; this post, your blog, your journey and the profound ways you write about it. You aren’t simply writing about life, but delving into all of it’s spaces; the flourishing, the unkempt and the secret . Your story and your words inspire my heart and my creative spirit. Thank you!

    Liked by 1 person

    • Yours were the first words I read this morning and it melted me. To know that my journey and writing inspired you, someone whose writing I think is so unbelievably honest, accessible, heartfelt and eloquent, makes me just want to keep writing. I just delved into your blog. God, where to start. You blow me away on so many levels. Your fucking courage, first and foremost, and your strength and self-awareness..it’s a rare and beautiful thing. On a side note, on certain days, those first two words make me cringe, because my god I feel anything but. But friends and all of you continue to pound it in my head, and I’m finally starting to own them….on some days. I hope you do, I truly do, because you are amazing…it comes through in your words. That is your gift. Thank you for sharing it with all of us.

      Liked by 1 person

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