one thing i’ve noticed over the years is how any loss sends me into a spiral where i’m experiencing all my losses again. i can’t tell where one loss ends and another begins. i first noticed it after the breakup following my dad’s passing. and again with then the breakup after that…but it’s not the same, is it? with a breakup there’s a choice. there’s no choice when it comes to death. and yet.
and yet…
they intertwine.
loss of a relationship.
loss of a parent.
loss of a pregnancy.
loss of trust.
loss of innocence.
it’s all profound loss.
i walked through cancer with my baba and then experienced it myself. two very different experiences with two very different outcomes. and yet, that c word takes me to my knees every time i hear it.
it’s been over 12 years since my dad passed…and 8 years since my own diagnosis. some days it feels like another lifetime, some days it feels like yesterday. time and space warp and merge, each subsequent loss stacks on top of the ones that came before. the pain is deep, isolating, and indescribable. there’s a heaviness to the unresolved feelings.
everyone claims it gets easier. with time, space, and peace, we heal. everyone is a psychic when you’re sad.
but it’s not true…the grief never shrinks; you just grow around it. and since grief is love maybe that’s the best we can hope for?
it leaves me to wonder, with all this loss, the old and the new…
it’s the unqualified, newly promoted manager asking me to falsify documents because the client requested it.
it’s the one i thought i loved only to learn that my grief over losing my dad was too overwhelming for him and his solution was to seek solace in someone else.
it’s the same guy who helped himself to my baba’s gold coins after i kicked him out of my condo.
it’s the meeting full of men who argue with everything i say until a man says the exact same thing and suddenly they’re all listening.
it’s the guy who can’t get past thinking breasts were made for him and not for their true intention, feeding littles.
it’s the ex who equates net worth with self-worth.
it’s the man who asked to speak to my brother when i was coordinating my dad’s burial because only men can be qualified to do these things.
it’s the creep who wouldn’t take no for an answer.
it’s the furniture installer who spoke to me like a child after calling him out for doing the job incorrectly. (this day will live in infamy in my home. if you know, you know. SIR.)
it’s the client who hated me because i’m assertive and woman aren’t allowed to be.
it’s the guy at work trying to convince me to perform illegal tasks, even after i clearly stated multiple times that i wasn’t comfortable with the ask.
it’s the same guy who asked “who told?” when management called him out on it. (i took great delight in telling him it was me)
it’s the guy who assumed i owed him sex because he flew me out to visit him.
it’s the employee at the car dealership who speaks only to my husband.
it’s the client who wants me, a very experienced (and excellent – no time for modesty, this is a post of bullet points) editor, to justify my cost when he can hire someone right out of college to do the work for less. (you get what you pay for, in this instance).
my head is still spinning and i don’t even know where to start, but writing is my therapy so i need to get it out…
earlier this week, someone i considered a close friend expressed that my public breastfeeding (of my almost 4 year old) makes her uncomfortable and voted that i wean my child. (it is an election year after all, things are gonna get weird).
i very clearly stated that i’m not at all uncomfortable. and there is no need to spend time with me if it’s an issue for her.
also, and here’s the part that matters to me, my body went through infertility. and cancer. it survived. and is alive! and i will never ever feel shame for using my breasts, AS INTENDED.
when i shared with her that this mattered to me deeply…that i still feel like my body failed me with cancer, and not being about to get and stay pregnant on my own. after miscarriages, and years, and tears, it’s finally something my body can do and provide for my child. i’m proud of that. i’m thrilled about that. i was not able to use my own eggs to have my child. i LOVE that my body produces milk and nourishment and comfort for him. her response was something along the lines of: my feelings are my own and not attached to your story.
true.
and so dismissive.
i don’t expect my friends to agree with every choice i make ~ that would be crazy…AND i was terribly hurt by the nature of her response. if your feelings are your own and you’re not attaching them to my story, then why did you feel the need to share with me? what exactly was the goal? if not to shame me and try and make me feel weird about my choices? (which i don’t. and won’t. i feel hurt and sad that a “friend” is so judgmental and quick to dismiss vulnerability.)
even more unfortunate is that my husband watched her roll her eyes the last time we were together and i breastfed my son.
(before you ask, yes. she’s a mom.)
the funny thing is, my husband always assumed someone would say something to me about breastfeeding at some point.
…we just NEVER ever thought it was going to come from someone who was inside our circle.
i honestly thought we were past the point of telling women what to do with their bodies. this will never compute for me. a completely asexual activity (literally, feeding my child) is somehow seen as something…inappropriate?
sdinsd 