my sweet friend,
I think I mentioned a while back hoping the new year will feel like a breath of relief for us both. have you felt it yet? I hope so. over here, my legs have felt strained; treading between waves and waiting for the next inhale. it’s a rough start to a year to be sure, but there is still so much time.
typically when I sit down on tuesday night to write, dreaming of what to say, I’m thinking of you. tonight, I’m going to write what I need to hear, too. so, my love, are you taking your time? are you judging your emotions instead of feeling them?
though I lean more towards the vague regarding my life, I’ve been working through a painful and unexpected breakup the past few weeks. (I promise I’ll get to something that’s helpful regardless of if you’re in a similar situation or not.*) even at the start of this, I knew “there will be a time where this hurts less,” and there are days that’s true, but right now they are few and far between. a book I’ve been reading to work through heartbreak notes a study from Dr. Ramani Durvasula, who found it can take about six weeks after a major split for people to adjust to life moving forward, with another study finding others felt better after eleven weeks. six! to eleven weeks! can you believe that? I had never considered the science of it. think of the experiences we know of. in a book, the old relationship might get a chapter. in shows, a character will be healed and back to dating after an episode or two. here, the grief doesn’t seem to idle.
*on a biological level, the reason processing grief takes time is because your brain gathers all the memories you had, all the well-traveled neural pathways and behaviors shared with this person, and has to recategorize them, reevaluate them, and give them new meaning. this timeline and brain labor could be applied just the same to any grieving (be it mourning a loved one, living through a pandemic, acknowledging a new stage of life, etc.)
one morning this week, there was a sharp pang of betrayal recognizing my body’s wait for a kiss. I felt taken aback and angry. it’s been weeks (though not six), but I believed I had made too much progress for my body to still be holding this instinct. and I remembered: my brain is doing so much work. my body is doing so much work. it’s palpable, I’m tired for a reason, and maybe body cues are a filing cabinet my brain is still thumbing through.
so. ease back with me.
hey you,
take your time. if you’d like, cup your hands together. place that voice of “I should be over this by now. it’s time to feel better. I’m taking too long” in this space between your palms. close your hands around it. imagine your arms growing stronger, holding this weighted voice in your hands, and throw it to the ground. rewind it back and watch it in slow motion. imagine the sound of its shatter, the force of it, the loud collapse. every shard and tiny sliver spilling out against the floor. please know you do not need to clean it up.
sweet one, take your time. yes, I know as well as you do that you’d never like to set foot here again; want out of this dark room as soon as you can find the light switch. and I won’t keep you any longer than you need, but feel it all now. sit on the kitchen floor and belt out the saddest song you know. stomp up the stairs. hold yourself closer when the bed seems too big. your anger, your sorrow, your fear, are okay to feel through, no matter how big it feels right now. its teeth do not bear inward. it will not eat you alive.
honor this hurt. give yourself that softness. remember it's a kiss that makes scraped knees less sore. you don’t notice when the skin starts stitching itself back together, but one day, you go to look and so much healing has taken place. before you check the clock, before you argue why, announce each emotion for what it is. “I’m disappointed. I’m scared,” and leave it for a second, just standing in the room with you. wonder why you need it to be anything else.
you will come back to you. I’ve known you long enough to watch it happen every time. I’ll see you when we get there.
all my love,
schuyler (sky-ler)
venmo: schuylerpeck