broken flowers

Last night I discovered a dumpster in the cemetery, overflowing with the dying flowers from Memorial Day:

I think it means something, but maybe that something is different depending on who you are (hashtag LIFE).

To me, it was a little heavy. Two weeks ago an old friend of mine took her own life--and this is not the first time I've lost a friend to suicide. A famous fashion designer committed suicide a few days ago, and everyone was shocked. Seems like it's always that--confusion, wondering how you could have missed someone being that sad and why didn't you do more, the inevitable guilt, and then the weird one--anger. A couple of weeks ago I learned that I have the hardest time feeling and expressing this emotion. It translates to me being low-energy, because all of that "fight or flight" energy just gets stuck with nowhere to go, and then, yeah...tired. Naps. Sad naps. Shower naps.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that you should never feel ashamed or guilty for feeling something. An emotion just is. Let yourself feel it. And I really hate being angry--it means someone hurt me, I let them hurt me, or  they betrayed my trust or made me feel small or confused. But if I let it sit inside me, I end up feeling worse, always.

My therapist is a big proponent of throwing rocks--big ones. Or you could try hitting something (not a person)--a punching bag or a pillow or a ball. Seven years ago when I found out my friend had killed herself, I got on my bike and started riding away. I didn't know where I was going, but I had to do something. And I also wanted to cry without being seen.

Yes, bad things are going to happen to the ones we love. We can't prevent that, not really. But I think life would be better if we enjoyed all the time we had with them while they were here. If you ever feel alone or misunderstood or depressed, please reach out to someone. Even if you think nobody cares about you, I bet you there's at least one person who does. There's at least one person who will be sad to find out you're gone.

And if you don't have someone, you can talk to me.

a poem:

The Night Where You No Longer Live

BY MEGHAN O'ROURKE

Was it like lifting a veil

And was the grass treacherous, the green grass

Did you think of your own mother

Was it like a virus

Did the software flicker

And was this the beginning

Was it like that

Was there gas station food

and was it a long trip

And is there sun there

or drones

or punishment

or growth

Was it a blackout

And did you still create me

And what was I like on the first day of my life

Were we two from the start

And was our time an entrance

or an ending

Did we stand in the heated room

Did we look at the painting

Did the snow appear cold

Were our feet red with it, with the wet snow

And then what were our names

Did you love me or did I misunderstand

Is it terrible

Do you intend to come back

Do you hear the world’s keening

Will you stay the night

Source: Poetry (November 2015)