on sorrow and longing

The other night I sank into the seat of my car, my skin sticky, my bones aching. I drove home, wondering if this is how summer is going to feel every day. 

That night I opened my journal to pinpoint and to release what has been weighing down on me.

(I am often not this specific with personal things on here, but for the sake of this post I felt it was fitting, so some of what I journaled about is paraphrased below in italics):

I have finally come to accept the ending to a friendship I have held since preschool, and have spent the last month grieving the loss of this relationship that used to be such a source of joy for me. 

I continue to pour myself out on first dates, which do not evolve into second dates.

I listen to my friend tell me through tears how difficult it is for her to receive the healthcare she needs. 

My oncology clinic calls to remind me to schedule my first breast MRI. 

My auntie Molly’s birthday is tomorrow and I hope I can celebrate it in a way she would like. 

The anniversary of my loved one’s passings are approaching, and the memory of those days sit on the edges of my skin. 

Sorrow and longing bear down on me so heavily at times all I can do is sit still and try to hold myself upright.

I recently listened to Brené Brown’s podcast, Unlocking Us. The episode is called “Susan Cain on How Sorrow and Longing Make Us Whole.” They talk a lot about the concept of “bittersweetness” and why certain people feel comforted through sad songs and feelings of sorrow and longing (ahem, me). Brené talked about how she told her husband she is a bittersweet person, and he said that was funny because she is so positive and hopeful all the time. And Brené had responded: 

“Hope is not a gauzy feeling of positivity, hope is a function of struggle. People with the highest levels of hopefulness have experienced, embraced, and understand struggle…. I am a joyful person because I’m a grateful person, but I’m a grateful person because I have a very clear understanding of pain, sorrow and loss.” 

And Brené’s guest Susan explains, “as a bittersweet person, you will see the potential for sorrow in a joyful scene. You are going to see a beautiful July flower and know how impermanent it is… but you will also look at painful times and know that that is impermanent, too.”

For the rest of this season I hope I can embrace the impermanence of it all - of the full trees, of the warming lake, of the people who bring me joy but who may not stick around, of the celebratory feelings of a healthy body. 

Susan concludes a thought by talking about a wisdom teaching from a branch of Judaism. At one point, everything was a unified divine vessel that was all light. But then this vessel shattered, and the world we currently live in has these shards of the vessel scattered and buried all around us. Our task in life is to pick up and admire the shards that we find. And even in dark times, the light filled shards are there, somewhere.

And so I comfort myself with melancholy songs, with the soft sunsets out my window, with the lattes I make on lazy mornings, with the voices of loved ones, with the sight of lupine along the North Shore. All of these things will end at some point, but I am holding onto each piece as tightly as I can for now.

song recommendation: "Consolations" by Tow'rs

And of course, the lovely and beautiful podcast you must listen to!

Brené with Susan Cain, Part 1 of 2

Brené with Susan Cain, Part 2 of 2 

an additional edit: I just bought Susan Cain's book, "Bittersweet" at Target today! Might have to make another blog post when I'm done reading it...