better

It’s raining in Los Angeles, a rare occurrence.  The drip of the non-functioning gutter reminds me of Midwest autumns that always smelled like windmill cookies and crushes on lacrosse players.

It’s been a long time since this blog and I have talked.  We parted awhile ago and only now is it something I can peek at.  To you 9 people whose link this still pops up on your RSS or whatever the fuck you call it, hi.  How’s life?  How have your 2 years been? I hope filled with babies, houses, money, schools, love, success, and go-gurt.

My 2 years? Let me use some words to describe ‘em.  Shitty.  Fucky.  Shit shitty.  Ballsy.  Smelly.  Sticky.  Tricky.  Ballchessy fucky.  Pissy.  Poopy.  Jinky.  Lousy.  Fuckville farty.  Messy.  Poopypants ballsac rotten.  Piss pour shit ball sucking rotten. And downright unfair.  Basically, my husband became my wusband without my permission, my young-ish dad suddenly dropped dead without my permission, my best friend got in a bad bike crash without my permission, my mom got sick, again, without my permission, my wusband sued me without my permission, I didn’t get to fulfill my wish to be a mom without my permission, and then some other horrible, I repeat, horrible ending that you’ll have to wait for the book to find out about, happened without my permission.  But one thing happened through all that.  Somewhere after 565 days or 790 days of waking up wishing you were in someone else’s life or wondering how you could punch every person posting pictures of their kids on facebook in the throat, it popped.  The zit of tragedy.  And I woke able to see color again.

The internet says death of a child and/or spouse, then parent, then divorce are the 3 worst losses. I went through 2 literally, and the first metaphorically.  When you get divorced while trying to have a kid, you kinda- sorta grieve that fantasy child whose pictures sat on your vision board.  You rip up baby name post-its you wrote at dinner and block out any 'my kid will one day play with your kid' conversations.  You become that single girl again amoungst a ton of non-single people wondering how to give hand jobs and if someone will like your spider veins.  It’s weird.  Grief traps you like that boulder in 127 hours leaving you to rail against your ‘shoulda/coulda/woulda’s’ yet, other times it sets you free to detox any and every expectation you’ve ever had. Life couldn’t FEEL worse than laying in week old tears that smelled like 2 buck chuck and chocolate or walking your father's casket down the aisle in safety pinned Old Navy pants. Sure, it COULD get worse.  And people told me that all the time...’it could be worse.’ Or ‘at least your not starving in Africa.’ But I’ll tell you this.  Some days I did feel like the small child with flies on his lips begging for just $.20 of my American dollars through the cherub face of Sally whatshername.  It’s so cliche.  Just one more day with my dad.  Just one more phone call with him laughing at his own jokes.  Just one more ride on the tractor singing ‘the sun will come out tomorrow’ then playing Dig Dug at the arcade.

Grief takes you down the scariest of hallways, like those abandon ones from some psy ward in the 80s, but if you can find an eyelash of light, it allows you to be reborn.  Reborn without some of the same really bad baggage (wusband) and without some of the really fucking awesome luggage (dad). Sigh.

I look forward to all 9 of you reading my book. But in the meantime, read this.  This will make you happy.  It did me.

Elbow and Send.

Comments

[jchutch9]

I must be one of the 9 you speak about above. sorry your last two years have been so awful. I hope they get better.

[jchutch9]

I must be one of the 9 you speak about above. sorry your last two years have been so awful. I hope they get better.

[WhyJerryWhy]

OK, I couldn't wait to read this.

Consider this comment to be 1,000,000,000,000 hugs from me, although as I'm writing it, I'm also super happy to see you posting on your blog and sharing your story with the 10 of us. (Add me to your subscriber rolls!)

Did I mention how wonderfully written this is?

Thanks for sharing. (Said without sarcasm.)

[ericka]

I feel totally inadequate in the face of all this. I wish there were anything - at all - to say, that would not suck.

[doriette]

I'm one of the 9! :-)

So very sorry for your awful 2 years. But so hapy that life is in color for you once more.

Welcome back. We're glad to see you. You're not alone. Never have been.

[Kristen Ciarochi]

You're right -- that blog post did make me happy. I've been in a similar ditch (not as deep as yours by any means) but as I've been laying here in mine I've been sending positive mojos your ditch's way, hoping that you'll make it through this perfect storm of all shitstorms. Hang in there and keep elbowing and sending!

[Julio Aguilar]

Well, I'm here to read this now and I look forward to read your book too.
I hope that seing colors again is the first step to better days.

Hug.

[annie]

jchutch9-See! There is a 9 in your name, so you are one of the 9! Thanks for reading.

Jerry-thanks for your words, thanks for reading, thanks for supporting!

ericka-just by you commenting is helping. wow, i forgot how nice it is to hear that people are thinking of ya.

doriette-your comment made me misty. shit girl. nice.

kristen-haha...'keep elbowing and sending.' those were good days...those nerd wars. thanks for the laugh.

julio-you are so sweet! yes, seeing more color. each day. thanks for your comment.

[Howktown.blogspot.com]

No matter your circumstances, your pain is very real, because you are not a starving child in Africa, you are you. Grief is universal, no matter the cause. Hold out hope for life, because in the end, it is the one thing 'they' can't take from you. I tell myself this everyday, I hope this helps you. You've made me laugh so wholeheartedly, i couldn't delete your RSS for the mere hope that you'd write again... and what do you know, here I am commenting on your latest post. Dreams do come true.. ;)

[Sumo]

I had to wait a bit to process all of this because, wow. I never would have guessed. I hope better things come your way soon. I hope you keep posting, because I always like reading your stuff, even when it is heart wrenching.

Also: ballchessy?

[annie]

howktown-thank you so much! your words really make me wanna write more. and own my grief. really, thanks.

sumo-somewhere i heard...'god gives you nothing you can't handle.' well, for awhile i thought i couldn't handle it. but, now, coming out the other side, you find strength you never thought you had. thanks for the comment. YES. ballcheey. it's real.

[jmiles]

hi.