I don’t think people realize how much strength it takes to pull yourself out of a dark place mentally. So if you’ve done that today or any day, I’m proud of you.
I’d credit the author of the above if I knew them, but I don’t. The above was something that someone posted today on Facebook. I thought long and hard about commenting, but ultimately decided there was no way I could sum up my thoughts in a nice neat sound bite, and I feared “Amen” while heartfelt, could be misinterpreted as something unfeeling – which would be the furthest thing from my intent.
Speaking of intent, when I first began blogging, it was my intention that what would begin as a musical blog would eventually transition over to becoming a blog about things that really mattered to me. Not to suggest music doesn’t matter to me, it matters greatly to me, which is exactly my point. Rather than tell you about how maddening I find mixing and bleed through click tracks it was my intention to write about things that I felt more deeply, thinks like - music has always been my life line, music has been my way to exorcise pain, great, vast (overwhelming at times) amounts of pain. But it’s easier to stick with the lighthearted blogs because I have always worried that readers might not find the deep feely stuff as palatable as the lighthearted mixing issues.
Which (sort of ) brings me back to the quote that was posted today. The quote that made my stomach lurch when I read it, not because it made me feel pain – but because I have lived it and I understand it and mostly because someone I care very much about, posted it. I took it as a sign that the blog in my head, needed to be written. So…please bear with me as I jump around from subject to subject over the next few paragraphs, I have a point and I swear I will tie the topics together.
This morning I ran into a coworker in the hallway, he is leaving the company and this Friday is his last day. He also happens to be a very good friend of one of my stepsons, they grew up together and he was such a great kid – always liked him. He grew into a good, kind, intelligent all round wonderful young man. So there we were walking together for a bit in the hallway, and I told him how sad I was that he was leaving but that I knew he was doing the right thing and was going to be a great success at his new job and he replied “I don’t know…” and he looked at me and that’s when I saw the question in his eyes and the doubt on his face which is when I found myself looking him right in the eye and saying with much conviction “I know you’re doing the right thing, and you are going to do great at your new job”. I meant what I said, and he knew it, and I watched relief spread across his face. And then it was over – he went out to the floor and I went back to the office. The conversation lasted for less than sixty seconds. And after I returned to my desk, I found myself thinking about our random hallway encounter and how sometimes the right words slip out of our mouths at the exact moment someone needs to hear them.
I always think of these moments as brushing up against grace, when grace has used one of us to help another. Changing jobs after being with a company for a long time, leaving that familiarity and safety of the predictable – that’s some scary shit. Grace arrives to tell us we’re not alone during scaring times like when we are starting over.
Speaking of starting over….subject change – I really am going to tie this all together, be brave take the ride. Anywhooo I was going through some music files tonight looking for what, I’m not entirely sure, but sometimes I peruse my “on deck” files to see which ones I want to queue up next to send off to my musical peeps for help with. Sometimes that search spirals off into me looking through my archived music and tonight while exploring the archives I stumbled across two very old tracks, both had been contenders for the Love is Vicious CD. One just missed the mark and I couldn’t figure out how to fix it and the other I had written way too late in the game to make it on the CD. LIV was written and recorded in a six-month period. Scotty was leaving the band, and I asked him if he would be willing to write and record one more CD before leaving. I can hear sadness in the two tracks I listened to tonight, it was a very dark period in my life. Scotty leaving was a huge blow, the night he quit he sat me down and very gently said to me “this is your dream Chris, not mine”. Those words broke my heart and at the same time I wanted him to pursue his dreams and make the music that he was passionate about. Holding both of those feelings in my heart, to me, was another moment of grace. Grace is gritty and resilient – it’s whatever is needed in the moment. After Scott left, I had to figure out a way to do more of the writing on my own, and that ultimately helped me to find my voice as a writer. Sometimes grace is found in the unfolding of starting over. Grace is found in the darkness of the unknown, it’s found in the “what the fuck am I going to do now” moments.
Some of the worst “what now” moments happen during times of loss (hint: subject change). I’ve spent the last few days thinking about grief. Wondering if there is a way to let go of it, or if it’s just something that becomes a part of you, and if it is – is that a bad thing? The last nine years of my life, I’ve danced often with grief. The end of a sixteen-year relationship is grief inducing, of the big time, mother load variety. Pile on top of that the grief of losing people you love, in the same period I lost my grandmother, a cousin, an uncle and an aunt. It’s so damn hard to lose people we love, and you know what I think might be even harder? Sitting with those left behind and seeing them in pain and being powerless to ease their grief.
This past June during the service for my aunt, my cousin got up and gave a beautiful eulogy about his mother. His words were deeply moving, there wasn’t a dry eye in the room. When he was done, I watched him walk back to his seat and sit down beside his wife, and then I watched them lean into each other. I noticed his brother and his wife were leaning into each other, so was his sister and her partner. I looked around the room and everyone was leaning into someone, and it broke my heart open and that’s when grace flooded in. Grace leans in when the going gets hard, it’s the glue for the broken hearted.
So, here’s where I’m going with all of this…pain and grief are what come with the experience of being human. I also suspect that the more one pays attention, the more present a person is – the more likely they will be to feel pain, often. Or maybe some of us just come into the world feeling things more deeply. I’m not sure about any of it other than – there will be pain, and there will be grief they are part of being alive. Yep, there is much pain in this human experience, which is why it’s so important to remember to be vigilant – to always be on the lookout for grace because there is also much grace in this life.
I don’t think people realize how much strength it takes to pull yourself out of a dark place mentally. So if you’ve done that today or any day, I’m proud of you.
Grace helps us to pull ourselves up out of the darkness. It shows up as the right words at the right time, it leans in providing strength, helping us to muster the courage to keep going, to try again, to start over, to learn how to live and grieve at the same time. Sometimes it even shows up as a Facebook post, grace is scrappy like that. It shows up in whatever way is necessary to help shine a light and let us know, we are not alone.