Hello, I'm back. These two, threeish months have been hard and strange. I'm always aware--sometimes painfully so--of the short amount of time I have in this life, but when things happen, suddenly I realize that I'm not so aware as I want or need to be. So I took kind of a break, and I feel like in some ways I'm right back to where I started. But then in other ways I feel like I understand things a lot better now (but, also understand things a lot less. It's confusing, and I feel like I'm wandering, but that's where I'm at right now). I'm trying to give myself time to heal and time to cope, and also try to gauge when I should get back into pretending like life is normal again.
But honestly, not a day goes by that I don't think about my professor or my mom. For John, even though I know this isn't true, I feel like I don't have a right to mourn, so maybe I'll never get over it. And maybe that's okay. I have so many conflicting thoughts about everything that it just gets overwhelming sometimes--like, maybe I'm keeping everything inside because I like feeling bad, because I can use it to fuel my creativity, but also because I can use it as an excuse to keep to myself, to not open up to myself. But simultaneously I don't want to use these new feelings and experiences I've felt to create things from, because for some reason part of me feels like it's an exploitation? And I hate talking to people about it in real life, because I'll start crying, because I never have adequate words, and because I don't and do want people to feel bad for me. (It's also conflicting creatively because my book that I've been working on literally is about someone dying, and it's really hard for me to continue working on it.)
I don't know, this is just everything I'm constantly thinking. But I think one of the positive things that's come out of this is I really have a better understanding of the need for community and family. I'm super independent, not necessarily by the definition that I'm outgoing and fearless, but that I honestly do not need to be around other humans. If I had to live by myself in the middle of nowhere for the rest of my life, that actually sounds really nice. I'm also the kind of person who hates burdening other people with my presence. I hate having to ask people if they want to hang out or do something with me, because I'm afraid that they then will feel pressure to say yes to me, or it will be super inconvenient for them. Whereas if they come to me first, then I know they are genuinely interested in wanting to be friends (as you can tell, I'm a really great people person). But now I think I better realize that we all need to have a group of people that we can lean on. I'm excited to discover more about that in a more tangible way.
But it's been so hard. I feel like I've been on autopilot for the past two months. I haven't been creative other than where it's been necessary (ie for my job and my 365 project), I haven't been reading or writing, I haven't been drawing. But I think to an extent it's okay. I'm always toggling the line between giving myself grace and space, and pushing myself to begin doing the things I love to do.
I miss John. I miss the things he represented for me. I miss knowing subconsciously that he will always be around to email, to talk about my pictures with me, to suggest a dumb and silly photo series to me. I miss the fact that other people won't get to experience his light.
I don't know, it's hard because I feel all these things too quickly to find words for them. But all this to say I think I'm finally coming to that corner of the bend in the forest, right before the trees break and the bright land opens up before me again.