Day 15--yesterday I reflected on the last two weeks of #writeingriefI am so thankful for this writing course. It has allowed me to go places with my writing that I hadn’t been brave enough to explore yet. I have shared things that I couldn’t share before. I still haven’t blogged my rant against kindness that I wrote on day six. I’m planning to, though.
I hadn’t shared about opening Alaska’s urn because I knew how crazy it sounds (at least to people who don’t get it). Because some people really do get it. No, we can’t know all or understand everything that another is going through, but we can just be here to listen and to “get it.” This course has helped me to realize that I really can say what I need to say. If everyone stops reading because they think I’m crazy or going to hell, it’s ok. My writing helps me express my grief in a way that I absolutely cannot do any way else.
I eff bomb the shit out of prompts, but I’m not sure what that says about me. I think that I worry about how others perceive me in my grief especially considering all of the swearing. My writing has always included a healthy dose of profanity, though. Even my Before writing.
I have been surprised that each prompt, each day of writing, has seemed just a bit more difficult. I still am not sure whether it’s me or whether Megan has designed the course to push just enough. I’m pretty sure it’s a combination of both. Obviously what is just enough of a push for one person would be too much for another. Each day of writing has taken me closer to Christmas and closer to Alaska’s birthday and Auburn’s should be due date, so each day of living has just been that much harder.
I have been disappointed that my writing sucks on most days, but I haven’t spent time revising. I just read the prompt a couple of times, set my timer, write for 20 or so minutes, and then give it a quick once over before I post. When I have revised this writing for my blog, I have tweaked things here and there, but I have been surprised that I decide to include almost everything. I know that it’s not my best writing, but I have had a difficult time changing the pieces. There is just something about exposing the raw words that are written at a first sitting that feels honest.
I didn’t know that I would go back so often to gray and burning and ashes. I didn’t know that I would get so violent with Grief. I didn’t know that I would be able to talk to Grief the way I did. I didn’t know how hard this month would be. I thought that I knew, but I didn’t really get it. I didn’t know that this course would help me take just enough pressure off of myself to get through to the next day and the next and the next.
I didn’t know that I would continue to second guess myself in my grief. I didn’t know that I would continue to allow people to make me feel like I’m not doing it right. I didn’t know that I would find that poem in that newspaper on day seven. I didn’t know that writing would help me be brave enough to say what I needed to say to the actual people in my life. I didn’t know that I would still struggle this much even though I am taking care to be gentle with myself. I didn’t know how satisfying it would be to tell kindness to fuck off. And I didn’t know that it wouldn’t really be satisfying at all.
I didn’t know that I would be part of an incredible community of writers.
I didn’t know that I would be here on this day because I had so many other plans for life that didn’t include writing through my grief in December 2014. I didn’t know how naive I actually was until--suddenly--I wasn’t.