Prepare. I have had this blog post looming over me for several weeks now, and I know I have to do it. I don't know why I felt sort of compelled to write about the emotional experience I have been going through, but I dared myself to do it, and we have come up with the following. I'm warning you it's long and perhaps a little intense. But I think once I successfully click the "publish" button I will have come a long way. And check it out - it's Sunday. Maybe I'll even get back to my old routine of Sunday posts..... Happy reading!
I have had a very interesting month. So interesting, in fact, that I experienced it without actually knowing what happened during it. I remember a few days of work, several days in Savannah, Atlanta, family, friends, but it seems like this month maybe didn't actually happen - like it was sucked into a vortex and time somehow skipped from February to now. Isn't it funny how intense emotions can affect the very physical perception we have of the world? When I got back to NY and had moments alone to breathe and soak in all that had happened, to my amazement the subways were still running their regular routes, the people were still hurrying everywhere, taxis were still honking, busses were still hauling people up and down the streets, stores were still open and selling their goods, even drivers were still yelling expletives out of their cars to each other. And it all seemed so far away from me. The world still turned, drenched in pettiness.
I guess it was like the days of March passed in slow motion, yet extremely quickly. One segment of 15 minutes could seem like two hours, yet looking back at the end of a day I wouldn't even be able to remember what happened within a 7-hour time span. It is so interesting. One thing I do remember is coming up with a lot of different metaphorical images of how I perceive myself and my situation. Here are a few of them:
The Tabletop
I feel like I am a tabletop, and holding me up throughout my life have been four very strong legs. My mother, my father, my brother, and Amy, and I am having to figure out how to keep my balance without the 4th leg there. (Obviously this is very simplified, because I probably have 50 "table legs", comprised of my relatives and friends, all extremely supportive and stable and who I could rely on for anything (and am doing so), but this is just a quick little vision I had one afternoon relating to how I feel, perhaps not the most accurate).
Gently Sloping Pathway
Amy was like a fantastic, beautiful, gently sloping pathway leading me upward through the most crucial years of my life. This path has led me on a smooth, steady, delightful journey, up and up, over rooftops and higher than many buildings. But the pathway ended abruptly and I have found myself at the top of what seems like a skyscraper, not knowing where to go. What do I do? Where is my familiar path?
Golf Course Hole
I feel like there is a gaping hole in my center. Like if someone took that machine they use to make the holes on golf course greens (that punches out those perfect cylinders of grass and dirt) and punched out a circle of about that size in my center. It's ok, this hole won't kill me or anything, but it's there, and it's icy cold (you know, like when you have a wound and you expose it to air for the first time), and it's very noticeable (to me, like when you lose a tooth), but I can cover it up with clothes and no one knows it's there; and with time even my body will grow around it to cover it up more. But what's hard is getting used to it - feeling that much of me missing, and knowing that the hole will never disappear.
While the world has been turning in this slow/fast-motion state, I have had a few unique experiences, and have made some observations based on them.
Some Observations:
- I imagine I must know what it feels like to have clinical depression, where everything is unimportant (including yourself and anything happening in your life, career, the lives of others, etc.); I feel that experiencing this could only help me become a more empathetic listener to my friends, and I can't wait to see how it will affect the therapy I give to depressed patients.
- I imagine I must know what it is like to vibrate a different kind of energy, such that your surrounding environment is affected (where people respond to you in much more friendly, caring, unexpected ways, and always at the right time); I feel like this will help me to better understand energy and learn how to use it to enhance situations and experiences.
- I imagine I must know what it is like to experience psychosis, where your emotions are so close to the surface that anything so small as a questionable glance from a person could send you over the edge (leading you to cause a great scene and possibly end up in a mental hospital); I feel sure this will aid in future experiences of people undergoing great anger, or when I encounter patients who are having psychotic episodes.
- I imagine I must know what it is like to experience FEELING energy from others in certain situations, where upon entering one train car you feel peace and beauty, and on the next you feel a thick wall of negativity so strong that it feels like it's a little harder to breathe; this I am sure will help me to understand environmental dynamics of friends, family, and strangers, and help me to relate myself more adequately to them and the moment.
One day I thought hard about this strong feeling I have - the one that's always on the surface, right behind my eyes or in my chest (perhaps the closest word to describe it would be sadness) - and I came to the realization that it was not a feeling of pain. Yes, it is a very strong unrelentless feeling, never subtle, always there, enabling me to cry one minute, get chills of awe the next, yet surge pure rage the next (ah, isn’t it so true that deep emotion is the delight of the human experience). But as I concentrated on this feeling I realized that it was not a feeling of pain but a feeling of great love. A deep, profound love that you are fortunate to know once in your lifetime, if at all. I have known real love. Isn't that beautiful!!! I would definitely not be who I am today if it weren't for Amy. How thankful I am for her taking me this far and teaching me so much! And if life is about experience then this is one experience that has created hundreds of other experiences for me to know, and that is also beautiful. It is to be noted, however, that none of these insights or experiences of beauty actually solves anything, or makes things any less sad. No. But they do provide another way to look at the experience I am going through, to learn from it, and to know it as something that can be revered in beauty rather than looked down upon in pity. So, how can I be completely miserable in a situation that has provided and will continue to provide so much beauty and insight to my life?
There is so much more to write, slowly I will get it out there. I had to get this post off my chest. I will write more soon, as I always say.
Wishing you experiences of love,
Luci
If you would like to read the speech I gave at Amy's beautiful funeral, click here:
My Best FriendAlso, I will be compiling pictures, another task that looms over me. Please stay tuned to learn how you can acquire copies of this compilation!
