live in the PNW but missed the special locals-only announcement on NYD? then you missed the news that Studio Practice: Collage starts next week! email me to get on the locals list (hello@hopeamico.com)
looking for an online collage class? registration for Is This Art? is open through 1/15 !
When someone talks about going through something, you can imagine the arc of the story. Going through implies motion, foreword movement, a beginning and ending. There is a hint of an event spurring dramatic emotional reaction and then resolution and reflection. The middle part exists but there is little to report. It is grey, it is muck, and it is mostly uneventful. The daily crying jags have slowed to occasional bursts while looking though old photos or at certain songs. The protagonist may still cry themselves to sleep, but mostly they are getting along. They don’t need reminders to eat, they sleep, they laugh sometimes. But look closer: the once great cook makes themselves the same lackluster meal daily. It is sustenance and this grey area is about sustaining. They might try something new, but it is too soon. They scroll dog adoption sites or download a dating app or browse houses for sale, but they aren’t ready for that and they probably know it. When prompted, they say they are Fine but cannot elaborate.
…ok here we go. Not with fire and fury but measured making do.
They know about the cycles of processing grief, the ebb and flow, and remember to take small sips. They hope that the precipitation of personal tragedy has slowed for a while. They are able to care for others in small but not insignificant actions: offering a ride, bringing lunch, a hug. They buy milkshakes for their co-workers, a tiny splurge to celebrate just going along. They begin to look outwards, if only within sight.
In a workshop about writing personal content for marketing1 Bear Hebert offered a guideline of writing from the scar, not the wound. It might be common writing advice but it sticks with me. When we write from the scar it means we have healed, that we have had time to reflect.
One day I will tell you the whole story.
For now, I am interested in this muddy part; the mucky, tedious, feeding this body and brain to carry it though another day. Some days are sad. There are moments of joy. I think of it as writing from the scab.
Keep reading with a 7-day free trial
Subscribe to everything is an experiment to keep reading this post and get 7 days of free access to the full post archives.