I can taste the mist and sense the air beneath my skin. Shadowed by the spirits who kiss me in the wind. When the cold air blows; I hear their stories told. They tell me to close my eyes, and in the darkness I’ll see. Unseen cyphers and traditions they teach are boundless and bold. In exchange I left them my heart and they keep it for infinity; in the mist of Skógar.
Room 121 – a Tribute to the Mule
Narrative Poem by @kimberlyanneinc
Welcome. Before you begin reading this narrative poem, I want to say thank you for being here. Room 121 is a place that you have been to before. It is a place that we have all been to before, in some way or another. It is up to you to determine what Room 121 is about. Room 121 is a diverse room filled with every kind of energy and emotion that is possible for human beings to demonstrate and feel. Room 121 is full of mysteries that are not meant to be solved. Room 121 is what you want it to be.
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Room 121 – a Tribute to the Mule
What’s going to happen in Room 121? I swore to myself the last time we were there that I’d never set foot in a courthouse again. You know it was not supposed to happen this way. Like an out of body experience I see the stupid
happyplastered look on my face. Walking with you like I should be so proud when in fact I should have hid my face. Then maybe now I wouldn’t be so embarrassed and ashamed of being associated with your name. Almost reaching Room 121 I’ve practically crumbled and just might disintegrate. What will happen in Room 121? In Room 121 I’ll become brand new and it’s going to be like I never even knew you. Remember that moment in Cinderella? There’s a fairy godmother who completes the impossible. She made it all possible for a transformation to take place. Can you see the wand now waving? Waving around now right in front of her face? A transformation I’ll go through even though I think really, it’s you who needs one too and you probably need it much more than me since you have issues with your eyes, your ears, and all things. You need glasses so you can see. A hearing aid so you can listen. What is going to take place in Room 121? If only a real fairy godmother exists, then she could help me help you! With this issue of vision. Helping you would be much too kind considering there is no hope for you anyway. In Room 121 I will release all of the pain and the guilt and the misery and the shame - along with all of your lies and your undiagnosed illnesses and that fake bit of chivalry that brays out of you like a True ass. In Room 121 I will walk in alone and I won’t mind at all because I’ll be one step closer to escaping any thought of you for the rest of my life. Sometimes I wonder if the world only knew how weak and infantile you truly are if it would HELP. Do you think it will be beautiful in Room 121? Then they’d be able to escape you too; but like me they wouldn’t have to run because you’d already be gone. Faster and faster just like a marathon of foolishness and mental fragility due to your frail existence. In Room 121 donning silver attire, I will walk in with pride and explain my mistakes of how I fell for your schemes, your strategies and your lies and how NOW they have made me only so much more indestructible - Rugged and impenetrable either through the heart or unmentionables, thank you. Thank. You.My armor is heavy, and my battle scars are unseen. Only those who wear this armor too will understand what that means. With my head held high and curious eyes glaring at the gleam that my iron shield, metal plate, and inlaid sword bring - everyone will know that you are not a real King. Just another imitation descended from swindlers and shams, who could only hope and dream to move on to better things instead of constantly being masters of the masquerade. I’m sorry you were built that way. The crudeness of my words, is veracious as your credentials of being extremely detrimental. The fact that you are a mule, and one that is destructive is comical to say the least. Being a tool is exactly the purpose of such an animal. Stubborn and a certified beast of burden - of this I’m certain. As I lift the helmet off of my head, and start to remove my sheathing, the verdict is reached and now I am breathing. A sigh of relief blasted out of my chest knowing that I was heard and that your cowardice made it all so easy. Sailing out now of Room 121 I go away and in search of anything that isn’t you for eternity now. Sailing out now of Room 121, off and away there I go, here I go, to anything or anyone that isn’t you forever now. Sailing out now with my armor, weapons, and my ship, hands on my waist with the hips you will miss - farther than ever so you can never taste my lips again. Assailant should have been your title once long ago, but you can’t be called that anymore. You’ve lost this battle and I’ve won the war. Now thanks to Room 121 I am perpetually unassailable. And when the truth hits the ears of all who will listen, this is how the tale will go.
Thank you for reading. If you’re a rebel writer, let me know what literary devices you can spot in this poem. I’d love to hear from you. ❤ ‘Til then, happy writing!
Do you remember the first time you brought your newborn home from the hospital? Your first baby. Do you remember counting every breath? Feeling their chest? Putting your ear next to their tiny little lips that would one day ask, “WHY?”
I’ve recalled that feeling and lived it again. But this time with no bassinet, no crib, no play pen. Instead I’m laying on the bathroom floor, worried sick. Counting breaths per second as the clock ticks. As I think of my foolish ways, and the dismay that was brought on by today, I ponder it all as I stare at my new stray. With all that I can and all I’ve got, an offering should take place.
She’s eating and breathing and drinking which is a relief. Considering her condition, as told by the vet it’s somewhat of a rendition of – well, I don’t even need to tell. You already know. She’s mostly silver, grayish, kinda blue. She has a tiny white patch on her chest too. Her eyes are the darkest green, but somehow resemble emeralds or jade that have been spun into a galaxy that lives in her gaze.
Mystic as she is no matter what is wrong, I’ll treat her like my own and sing her all the songs. The ones I always chant to the other two I have, like a ritual I plant and water what I can.
Filled her water several times, because she kept drinking and drinking. Water is a gift of life, primordial and consistently. Thinking and thinking, I call her Nixie. Tiny little sprite, washing everything down. I watch her, observing as she circles around. 9 times like the waters of Styx. If she has 9 lives, then I hope they let me have – at least one.
I hope she doesn’t go yet, because we’ve only just begun. But if she has to take her journey, she won’t do it alone. Precious little Nixie Styx, this can be your new home. ✨
Celestial Windows© – a Prose Poem by KimberlyAnneInc
Running again I see you chasing me. Is it impossible for me to see without eyes on the back of my head? I’m cornered as you climb through the window to get inside. The tiny little white square window that you somehow managed to open. How can you fit inside? In a world where nothing is solid of course, it makes sense. You push your way through and seep inside like liquid. This is impossible but you have your ways. I cannot escape and I’m trapped. Pushed into the corner and the walls made of light brown wood melted and pushed into me right back. You’ve done this many times and when I try to run you always catch me. Sometimes I want to make up with you but I know that when I do it will always end the same. It always ends the same. You grab the cell phone out of my hand. You question me again. You corner me. You squeeze me and it hurts. You do not let me go. In fear and fright, I scream and I cry but only in a way that I can recognize. You are not able to see. The walls start to melt around us as they push us closer together like flowing waters against rock pushing, pushing, pushing, until the imprints are made, the curves are present on the gray cold stone. Exactly what I don’t want. In terror, I freeze. I won’t let you see it. Smile at you so I can play tricks too just like you. I wish I could be like you. I want to crawl out of the window that you climbed in but my feet do not work. Solid like a cold gray stone. How can I escape this moment? The only thing that is left for me to do is wake. Wake. At my wake, they will stand vigil.
They will stand watch like Cerberus who barks in the lot. Watching and waiting like I will wake up. Wake. I just want to wake. Up. Lately, I’ve been so down. Like the pits within the earth, the ones that are covered in green moss and brown dirt. How much farther can I go? Digging and digging, below. Picking the colors from the earth as I become the meadow and picking at my flesh; this is what I do now. I pick them and dig. I cry out for Charon, please come and help. Escaping this place is what I must do. Digging and digging I want to go. I’ve had my wake and I cannot wake, take me across the waters made of souls dark and light and warm and cold. The agony above somehow compares to Theogony of all. Styx pushes and it melts but it’s nothing like you, not even with all of its shadows. Yours tops it all as a veil over the sun.
Running again the craft of Charon cruises down the bed made of spirit as it carries me to a castle. Here you will find me but you certainly won’t catch me. I’ve found something much more powerful than you but only in the most fervent way. Abducting myself to travel to another realm with a barrier in between and live with all of the things unseen. It’s better this way I think while passing through Elysium and the Meadows of Asphodel. Finally making my way through after many journeys I find myself in Tartarus which somehow is better than being Up and awake and in the presence of you. Persephone may want to run and if she does I hope she comes to you. I will send her myself and then take her place and look into the eyes of a god who can’t be worse than you. Hades would stand with a seraphic grin as I tell him all of the things and with his own celestial windows bearing his spirit I’d feel safe and warm in this otherworldly underworldly place that is somehow swarming with the ice of frozen souls but none would compare to you. Tired no more I wouldn’t run. No longer can I see you chasing me. I’m too busy filling bowls with seeds of pomegranate fruit and all on my own because it’s all much better than you. Shoving the seeds into my mouth and swallowing them down, planting myself there forever so that I never see you again but somehow if I do in this world they will already know you. Seeds, all of the seeds make it easier for me. You can run now I am the Queen and in the realm of the dead in the far depths of the Underworld, I am more alive than ever. This new sweet taste of disposition is something I envision Cupid’s bow and arrow would never be vigorous enough to create as I stare into the celestial windows.
Within the last couple of years, I have transformed; mentally and emotionally. Some of the things I did before the pandemic were unhealthy and questionable. I mean very mentally and emotionally unhealthy. I was around people who were just not good for me and my mental and spiritual health was on a decline because of it. During the pandemic, and with tons of time to be alone I had an epiphany of sorts. After realizing I had almost wasted my life with an individual who was completely toxic for me, I realized that I truly wasn’t living my life the way that I should have been or could be doing. Realizing that, I decided to make the most out of my 2021, once many COVID restrictions started to lift.
Last year I went on some truly amazing adventures and discovered so many new places and met some lovely new people. At this point, I’m not a stranger to traveling alone. I find that traveling alone is extremely beneficial and something that everyone should do at least once in their life. I don’t mean traveling for work either, or something tedious. I mean to go, across the country, or the world – completely by yourself and for only one purpose: leisure.
Last year, by the power of fate I made it to Iceland twice, Omaha, Nebraska (Nebriowa), and St. Louis, Missouri. I feel like I’m forgetting something, but if I remember I’ll be sure to come back and write about it. I did go to Roswell, but that was for a family visit and something I’ll discuss later on. Traveling for me is all about exploration of the world and exploration of myself. It might not seem like a lot to some, but the places I went to and the things that I saw last year have given me memories that will last a lifetime. Traveling makes you realize just how tiny you are in this giant and overpopulated world.
Seeing Mt. Esja, among many other beauties in Iceland for the first time, was breathtaking. I did, of course, see some epic waterfalls, ate fermented shark (and didn’t puke, haha Gordon Ramsay!), and even saw one of my favorite artists perform. On top of that, I even went to Álfaskólinn, the official Elf School of Iceland, and was lucky enough to sit with a historian and listen to stories of magic and folklore (my favorite!).
When traveling to Nebraska, I stood in two states at the same time while on top of the Bob Kerry Pedestrian bridge where I witnessed a marriage proposal at sunset. It was so romantic, and I was thrilled to have captured photos of the moment. (The Bob Kerrey Pedestrian Bridge is a 3,000-foot footbridge across the Missouri River between Council Bluffs, Iowa, and Omaha, Nebraska.) I did send the photos I got to the couple after their special moment. I rode a bicycle up and down the Lewis and Clark National Historic Trail. The feeling of connecting with nature and history brought me such pleasure and it’s a magical place I’ll never forget. On the trail, I slowed down so I could witness a musical performance taking place on the side of the river. I saw the Durham Museum and listened to stories of military men and the brave Standing Bear. I was shocked and heartbroken at learning things about Standing Bear and his people, that they never would teach us in school. At the Joslyn Art Museum, I discovered an epic Dutch painter, Maria Van Oosterwijck. I ate the best fish tacos I’ve ever had in my life at Voodoo Taco. I wish all of the time, they’d open one up in Chicago.
I rode all over downtown Omaha by myself on those little stand-up electric scooters and let my hair blow in the wind as I cruised the streets, examining the architecture and statues of pioneers and buffalo. Somehow I managed to make my way to a concert of roughly 70,000 people in the middle of a field that looked more like a valley than anything. It was one of the hottest days of the year, and I had no idea how I’d get back to where I was lodging. Luckily, I met a beautiful Princess in the crowd who was from Lake Okoboji. She told me about where she was from, and how people always looked confused when she said “Lake Okoboji”. It is a glacier lake that was formed 14,000 years ago by the Wisconsin Glacier and has a maximum depth of 136 feet, making it Iowa’s deepest natural lake. Bri, or Bree, if you ever read this, just know that I think you are a genuine and beautiful human being. It’s mysterious that we never exchanged contact info after hanging out and demolishing curly fries after the concert. Thank you for helping me get back into town so safely. In my mind, I’d like to think it’s because we are both Midwestern chicks who were looking out for each other that night. She initially came up to me and started chatting because, for a moment, she too was in the crowd alone.
For my son’s birthday, we drove to St. Louis. The first time we saw the Gateway Arch, it felt incredible. Seeing things in person that you’ve only read about in books or on the internet gives you this indescribable feeling! It’s like yes, we finally made it. My son particularly loved St. Louis and Missouri in general. Especially when we drove out to the Meremac Caverns and learned about the hideout spots of Jesse James. Seeing the caverns all lit up felt like being in a dream. We got to explore a part of the earth that so many other people haven’t been able to see. We also spent time at the City Museum, and it was one of the most interesting places I’ve ever seen. Everything constructed at the City Museum comes from old pieces, parts, and random works of art that were once part of the city of St. Louis. Inside the City Museum, which is both equally fun for adults and children, you can investigate the unthinkable. I rescued a toddler while there who had apparently gotten lost. I found her crying in some loft (there are literally secret compartments all over that museum). Thankfully, her parents found her once I brought her back to the front desk! It was still wild though, considering each child gets a wristband and their parents are supposed to write their phone numbers on them! There was no phone number on hers, which made me super disappointed. My mom instincts kicked in super hard!
The City Museum is a hundred-year-old warehouse where artists have recycled the remains of the past to create miles of tunnels, slides, and climbers as well as bridges, castles, and other structures. There are secret caves inside, giant halls, and more tunnels than you can ever imagine. On top of the building, there is even a school bus on the roof and a Ferris wheel. Some of our time was also spent at the Magic House Museum in Kirkwood, MO. The Magic House is a non-profit organization that provides hands-on exhibitions and educational activities that are tailored to the specific interests and requirements of children and their families. In addition to field excursions, STEAM evenings for families, scout programs, and summer camps, the Museum provides a range of interactive learning opportunities that encourage and inspire kids of all ages toward becoming successful learners.
This is just a tiny snippet of what I’ve experienced last year in my “free time”. The point is, all of these places shape what I know, who I am, and how I see the world. Every time we discover a new place, we discover something about ourselves. We discover something about humanity. As much as humans seem impossible, experiencing new things and new places gives you a chance to discover the good that is left in humanity. In St. Louis, I was shocked at the hospitality we received at one restaurant. It was genuine, it was real. It wasn’t that fake smile or fake voice that many servers here in the city pull.
In the city, when I was growing up one of my favorite hideout spots was the Montrose Bird Sanctuary. The Montrose Bird Sanctuary is a quiet preserve that is home to a diverse range of migrating songbirds and butterflies, and it also has a skyline view. When I was younger I thought it should have just been called the Butterfly Sanctuary. The last time I was there, sadly, I did not see so many butterflies. There were plenty of tall grasses and trees to hide in and around. Maybe I loved the spot due to my obsession with nature which I’m going to blame on books of my childhood like, “The Giving Tree”, for example. Or even “Goodnight Moon”. Growing up with books that taught about nature, the stars, and altruism – one shouldn’t be surprised that a favorite hiding spot of mine is just next to the shores of Lake Michigan where you can easily hide in trees. It looks much different now than it did back then. Even though it’s changed so much, it will always be one of my favorite spots. I went back and visited last year, and found a single rose floating in the lake. I considered it as a message from one of my most loved and missed friends.
I’ve been incredibly lucky to experience so many things. This year, I can only imagine what else I will find. Taking none of this for granted is critical to the importance and the extent of my appreciation for all of the magical things in this world.
Relationship and intimacy are both words that everyone is aware of. We all know what those words mean, right? Of course! But the thing is with these words, not all of us have the same definition for those words. The word relationship can mean romantic, familial, or even friendship. It just depends on how YOU look it. The same thing with intimacy. When you think of intimacy, the first idea that comes to your mind might not be the same idea that first comes to another. There’s nothing wrong with this, but the main thing we can conclude from these two words is their importance in our lives.
When I think of relationships from my past, many people come to my mind. Not just in a romantic way. I think of family relationships, friendships, and people who have been in my life for a long time, or a short period of time. The word relationship can be applied to many connections, not just romantic ones. It seems that people can be confused by that concept, or downright disagree. Not every person you vibe with needs to lay in your bed! There can be some sort of relationship without a sexual element. There are a few different relationship types I can think of, each of them providing its own form of intimacy.
- Family relationships.
- Romantic relationships.
- Sexual relationships.
- Work relationships.
- Situational relationships
When riding the waves of life, you are bound to experience some, if not most of these. This list of relationships just makes me think of a kid walking into a candy shop. He can pick and choose whatever he’d like since there are so many. In reality, though, do we really get to pick and choose our relationships and what type of relationship they are? Or who they are with? Sometimes. It all depends.
When it comes to family, for me personally, I was not brought up with very many positive family relationships. Most of the time, I was surrounded by people or experiences that I was able to learn from whether they were a positive or negative factor in my life. Each family experience I’ve had has made me a better person, and I wouldn’t change anything.
When it comes to friends, I think I was lucky! I have an abundant amount of them, even if some I’ve never met personally (which is quite acceptable in this technological era we live in). And by abundant, I mean in quality – not quantity. There is truly a major difference between the two. I’d take a quality friendship over quantity any day.
With romantic relationships, I’ve had a few serious ones. Sometimes I wonder about certain relationships I’ve had, and I think that I’ve experienced true love so young that I shouldn’t bother even searching for it anymore because I know what it feels like.
Work relationships often can turn out like family if you so choose. I’ve had it happen, and one of my best friends started out with a work relationship.
Situational relationships do exist. Yes, many of us are “guilty” of those. As much as we judge others, we should also be looking at our own selves. It’s important to look within yourself, instead of focusing on others or trying to put a spotlight on their problems. Everyone is guilty of something.
When thinking of who my best friend is, a couple people come to mind. The first one is my son. The second one is someone dear, who lives in another time zone. The third is someone completely untouchable. The fourth is a friend of mine from a former workplace. She helped me through many things in my life and always gives the best advice. I’m so grateful for her and her logic! Although we don’t talk as much as we once did, my love for her will absolutely never change.
Sometimes we have a tendency to stay in relationships that we should have left, YESTERDAY. Yes, I am the first to admit there was a relationship I spent too long in. I’m positive many people can relate to that. I spent too much time in two of them actually. When I did that, it really caused me to lose myself in someone else. (Never doing that again.) They were both really good learning lessons for me. The thought of staying together “for the kids” is what many people think is the right thing to do. In some cases, it could be the opposite. There are also times when we have this tendency to rush in relationships. I’ve rushed things in my past. What I learned from it is to never do that again. Relationships of all kinds have many ups and downs. It’s just important to maintain balance.
Some people are just strategically placed into your life at certain times. It feels that way at least, doesn’t it? My favorite friendship story is the one where I met one of my best friends at work. The story is great because our friendship was real and natural, and we bonded like sisters. We’ve even spent holidays together! There’s nothing better in this world than true genuine friendships with deep connections.
Deeply connected means mental/intellectual, emotional, intellectual, spiritual, and sexual connections (in some relationships). When you are deeply connected to someone you will have the ability to vibe on every single level. Since I’ve experienced feelings like this before, I’d never settle for less again. My role in such a deeply connected relationship would be to give what I want to receive; To listen but also to teach! To me, these deeply rooted connections are the truest form of intimacy.
I'm wearing your t-shirt again.
It hangs off my body
Flows down past my hips,
And covers barely enough.
I'm In your t-shirt again.
Lying in bed.
There's lots of room,
More than enough.
I'm wearing your t-shirt again .
It's the only thing I've got.
To help me feel like I'm not alone.
But it's never enough.
I'm In your t-shirt again.
Pondering to myself
How All of it happened;
Wishing you were here.
It's just Way too much.
I'm wearing your t-shirt again.
I washed it the other day,
Put some extra bleach to keep it white.
Just how you like.
It doesn't smell like you.
But it brings me solace,
While I lay on the floor.
The bed is too empty,
Unlike my head.
By myself -
Yet another night.
The snow is dancing around.
Like powdered sugar,
It's soft and bright.
Glowing in the night.
Just like this t-shirt
That you gave me.
So, I could always have it,
To remind myself of you.
Staring in the mirror,
At the curves of my legs,
Looking at these threads,
That cover me, just me -
As I count the days.
But it's simply not enough.
It won't be until you can
Be here with me.
With how the seasons
If it will ever be enough.
I will be here.
With only Thought and Memory.
Trying to reason.
The Loneliest of heathens.
Wearing your t-shirt again,
Until it becomes almost like skin.
He knew she was beautiful.
Clearly, he could see.
But her beauty is not all he saw.
What he saw, made him stand out to her.
What he saw, made himself in return, be seen.
It made her look.
He saw much deeper than the surface.
He saw inside of her.
The mystic that was her soul.
The darkness that was her heart.
The brilliance that was her mind.
He knew that those other superficial things,
That existed in their world,
Meant nothing to her.
Somehow, nobody could really see her.
Unless it was him.
She was all alone.
Unseen. But no, not to him.
Only he had the eyes
That had the power to see,
Her visionary and gallivant spirit.
The wandering and traveling force
That was buried inside of her
From the weight of
All the things.
She loved him for that.
She loved him for the way that he could see her.
Like nobody else could.
Endings almost always lead to beginnings. In my experience, it seems that way. There’s been a few times in my life where something ending has put me on a completely different path, leading me to brand new and often exciting experiences. Whether these endings came in the form of relationships, jobs, or even the deaths of loved ones, they transformed me as an individual in their own different ways. Each experience contributed to the web that is my life.
Tragedies and new beginnings are often interwoven like an intricate web of fibers bearing all different kinds of colors. Each color and each fiber represent a different aspect of life. Life has this way about it that can leave us confused, questioning everything, or really trying to find our purpose. Ironically, its counterpart, Death, leaves us wondering many of the same things.
Part of our purpose, I believe, is to learn and grow while we are here on earth. We cannot grasp new ideas and flourish if we do the same routine things every day of our life. That must be why we suffer tragedies and have pain and sorrow. It must be why, right? Without these tragedies would we truly be ourselves? Who would be? We become stronger and more resilient with each new beginning that is presented to us by a tragedy.
In my last post, I discussed grief and people who I’ve lost that have impacted my life tremendously. When thinking of them, there is someone who I lost that comes to mind specifically, and losing this person really was a catapult for me to enter into a new beginning. After experiencing such a devastating loss, I was transformed.
In a way, I entirely reshaped my existence and what I’ve done with my time. The tragedy was my catapult to start endless amounts of creation in the form of art and writing, and just simply living my life the exact and precise way that I wanted to; with absolutely nothing holding me back.
There is another time when a friend and I were on separate paths in life for about seven or eight years. We did not speak for the entire duration of those years. Something magical happened that suddenly brought us together, and from that tragedy (separation), we were able to start a new beginning. The fibers of our webs once again became intertwined, thus causing a new bond. New beginnings are quite possibly one of my favorite things. I even have a tattoo dedicated to such meaning. Similar to the balance of darkness and light, fortune and misfortune are opposite yet closely related. There is an awakening that happens with new beginnings, like the break of dawn after a long dark night. You cannot have one without the other. Maintaining balance is important.
There have been plenty of times where I’ve had a fresh start. One of the most recent situations I can recall where I’ve had to “start over” was after getting married in a rush, and then getting divorced. When I think of it now, it seems so ridiculous. The choice I made could be considered a mistake. However, if I did not choose to get married, and then go through a divorce, I would certainly not be where I am now. So like those little colorful fibers are woven into the web of my life, how could this be a mistake? The divorce led me to another new beginning and I’m now at a point in my life where I know exactly who I am mentally and spiritually, and exactly where I’m going. Gratitude for the entirety of the situation is a complete understatement of my feelings. Whereas, before, I was just kind of going through the motions of life and not exactly sure about anything. I was still learning how to be me. This tragedy that I suffered through, and the fact that I went through my own depression was absolutely worth it. I wouldn’t wish the pain on anyone, or the confusion, or just downright nastiness of what I’d experienced, but everything that has happened has made me such a better person than I was before.
Breathe. It will all work out in the end.
In my experience, when things don’t work out it is a sign that things are actually working out. It may sound kind of crazy or silly, but I promise it is true. Some doors are just meant to be closed, and that is okay. In one of my favorite books, by Icelandic author Gunnar Andri, something he said in the book has stood out in my mind for several years now. “When one door closes, another opens. And sometimes many of them open at the same time.” Correct! I do agree with him on this statement, as well as much of the wisdom inside of his book. (5/5 stars, I definitely recommend)
And when those doors do open, taking the opportunity to walk through them can seem frightening or challenging. The thing is, with a new start, you must not be afraid. Of course, being scared of change or doing something new is a natural human emotion. Humans don’t like change. It’s been proven. Sometimes though, change is exactly what we need. A new path is given to us at the worst time, which in reality often can be the best time. There have been so many positive things that have happened to me since my divorce or other designated tragedies, and I recall the feeling of starting new friendships and relationships with other people after these terrible situations happened. I’m happier than I’ve ever been and I truly do believe that if the tragedies didn’t happen, I really wouldn’t be on the path I am now. It’s an amazing feeling.
If you’re ever feeling like you are living in total despair, or you just simply can’t move on from a situation or a certain someone, I’m here to tell you that you certainly can. It’s absolutely possible. When your tragedy hits, surely there will be flowers that will bloom shortly after.
Things to Remember:
- Don’t be scared to end something
- Don’t be nervous about experiencing your own tragedy (It will make you stronger)
- Don’t be intimidated about trying something new
- Do try to meet new people, learn from them
- Change is a good thing sometimes
- Take every opportunity presented to you (It’s there for a reason)
- Find your balance between dark and light
- Remember that everything will work out in the end
- Tragedies and new beginnings are interwoven; everything is connected
New beginnings can be hard, and learning something new that you’ve never done before certainly can be a challenge. In the garden of your life, just make sure to tend to the flowers that bloom after the storm; not the weeds.
Grief: An Honest Confession
There have been two times in my life where I’ve been absolutely ashamed of the last words I said to someone before they died. Two different people. Two different occasions. When I think about my actions, I feel a burning inside of myself that represents shame, embarrassment, and pain. I think to myself of how wrong I truly was and how utterly disappointed I am for allowing myself to say such words and have those words be the very last things I’d say to those people before they died.
A younger version of me was angry, spiteful, and I felt like an outcast. Sure, I had plenty of reasons to be mad considering the lifestyle I was in, but it did not give me a right to speak how I did. I was miserable at the way my life was and I had nothing to lose and zero shame whatsoever in many of my life choices including my word usage.
Thankfully now, I realize the power of words. Words are magic after all, and that’s why it’s important to be extremely careful with them. I absolutely despise ending phone calls and conversations on a bad note. It makes me very uncomfortable considering the experiences mentioned above, which still bother me today. I try to avoid confrontation now unless heavily provoked, because there’s that little voice in the back of my mind, saying, “Hey. Don’t be an ass. Remember what happened before?”. Yes, I say to my conscience and myself. Yes, I remember. I dislike ending things on bad terms. If things must end now, I try to say, “I wish you all the best.” Inside of myself, I simply cannot bear losing another person to this mysterious creature called death, and having my last words to them be something terrible. I’m trying to really work on it now in my adult life. I think much of being an adult is self-improvement anyway, so this is just another area to focus on.
I have now tried to instill this belief in my child as well. Never go to bed angry, never say rude last words. You may never know when or if you will see someone again. Even if you are mad at someone, you should not say something you will regret if the worst were to happen. It can literally eat you alive for years. Trust me, I would know.
The first time I remember grief as a feeling was when I was about 4 years old. Maybe it was not so much grief, but disappointment. My grandpa was sick and I overheard my parents talking about it in the kitchen. My dad was planning to fly to the West Coast to see him because they had a feeling he would pass soon considering his condition and he was not doing so well. My brother was about 2 years old at the time, and for some reason, my dad took my brother on the trip. I remember telling my dad that I wanted to go, and my 4-year-old logic was: “What if this is the last time I see grandpa?”. Naturally, I was brushed off and my parents told me not to worry.
Shortly after the trip, my grandpa passed away and I remember the feeling of disappointment, grief, the satisfaction of being right, and anger because my dad did not allow me to go on the trip. It was one of the first times I can truly remember such a whirlwind of emotions. A short time later, my maternal grandfather died, and I vividly remember that too.
I’m pretty familiar with death. I’ve even written a Letter to Death before. There have been quite a few deaths that have impacted me like I’ve run face-first into a poll on the street because I’m looking down at my phone instead of looking up. Boom! Now my head hurts, and I’m trying to figure out what the hell just happened. I don’t speak about it often, but my dad passed when I was a teenager. My first love died several years ago. Most recently, I lost a very good friend who was more genuine than anything at all. She was incredibly supportive and one of the people in my life who was supportive for no reason at all. People who support you, for no reason are the most special. They don’t ask for anything in return. They just truly want to see you happy and succeed – yeah, she was one of those; a rare gem to find in this day and age for sure. I love and miss her greatly.
People who support you for no reason are the most special.
The death that hit me hardest was losing my high school sweetheart. Even though we were not together when he passed it shook me terribly and then and only then did I realize how much I did love him still. When he died, my world changed forever. I questioned everything about my life at that moment. I even questioned the love I had for the person who I had just married. Sometimes, it takes losing someone for you to truly realize how deeply they made an impression on you and your life.
Sometimes, it takes losing someone for you to truly realize how deeply they made an impression on you and your life.
That old saying, “You don’t know what you got til’ it’s gone.”, is more true than I can ever describe. I cried for two years after he died. Sometimes it was spontaneous. The pain I felt from losing him is the worst grief I’ve ever felt in my life. I remember some nights just sitting at the edge of my bed and crying, and just screaming into my pillow. His words would echo in my mind. “Let’s go to Naples, baby.”, I’d hear him say. I’d dream of him often and sometimes I still do. In my dreams, we fight like lovers. Like we once did. I tell him, “Okay, I have to go now. Come on, let’s go”. He sits near the windowsill and looks outside at the rain. His sketchbook is in his hand and he is drawing, just like I remember him. He looks at me, annoyed, “Kim”, he sighs, “You know I can’t go back with you. I have to stay here.” A couple of times, he asked me to stay, but I told him I have far too much to complete here in this realm yet. He understands, and occasionally we meet up still. If you know me, you know who I’m speaking about and I’ve spoken of him before. Rob was one the most influential people in my life, and somehow, in some ways he still is.
After his death I did anything and everything to connect with him. He was an artist, a writer, a poet, a spoken word lyrical genius, and he made music. He was so creative, and I loved him. He called me his muse. The irony of that is after he passed, he would become a muse of sorts to me, if the definition we use is: a person or personified force who is the source of inspiration for a creative artist; instead of the mythological definition. I created so much art. I started writing more. I became inspired to make it my personal mission to not let creativity die, in my own world and that of everyone else’s too.
When we lose someone we love sometimes these magical things happen where our life is forever changed, but it’s not all bad. We become more caring, hopeful, or optimistic in some respect. We remember them. We learn to love differently. We learn to be more kind to ourselves and to people around us. When comparing Rob’s death to one of my friends who passed recently, there are certainly differences in emotion and feeling but the impact they made on my life will forever be unforgettable. Through every loss we experience, we also gain something. It’s almost like a trade of emotion and energy.
When losing friends in this life, we gain them in another, or in a spiritual realm, or hall – whatever it is that you believe. Having those people in my life helped shaped me for sure, but also by not losing them, would I be who I am now? Probably not. Death is another human experience in which we learn and grow. After everything that has happened, it is easy for me now to look at death in a different way than I did say 10 or 15 years ago. Do you think there is any goodness associated with death? Can death be seen from an optimist perspective? Or is that only achievable after you have recovered from all stages of grief? If you take anything from this post, I hope it’s that you always remember to never go to bed angry, and never say a harsh last word.