I’m not sure how it happened.
I could blame “Eat, Pray, Love”. The idea that, when faced with a devastating loss or unyielding heartache of epic proportions, the most courageous thing you can do is to leave. To run. To flee. To explore new lands and discover new people. That anything less than a dramatic exit will not suffice, will not illustrate to those around you just how absolutely crushed you are. That unless I smash plates, book trips to exotic lands, get ill-placed tattoos, take up chain smoking and jeggings- that my sadness does not have a home, isn’t grounded in something real.
But isn’t that what makes us feel good? Provides a temporary relief? We cultivate new habits. We devote ourselves to new people. We start big projects. Crave everything new, nothing that can be tied to the sadness that we can’t shake, a sadness that lingers and at times smothers us late at night when the world sleeps and you feel like you are the only person who has ever been this sad. The only person who has ever felt 100% alone. So we book trips. Take cooking lessons. Pick places to travel and declare ourselves free. And pray that one day the heart that still beating inside us will lift to meet a smile that took far too much effort to muster and your brain will believe all the things you keep telling yourself is true.
We claim that yoga saves us. That red lipstick and high heels and big hair and new dresses have turned everything around. We twirl in the glow provided by tans to warmer climates and hide behind sunglasses we deem glamorous. We sing to new songs we’ve discovered, songs that aren’t tied to heartstrings and a thousand memories of late night sing-a-longs with a voice you no longer hear. Songs that don’t conjure up a thousand memories of a life you will know you will never lead. We claim that time heals. That everything will be better with a glass of wine and a good sleep.
But you know what?
Yoga will not save you. Red lipstick gets washed off at the end of the night and wine always gives me a hangover. Trips filled with the best intentions are distractions that will never be a mistake but will never be permanent. New songs will always conjure up old memories- despite your protests. Glamorous sunglasses hide the tears that well up when you see someone in a baseball cap that is exactly like you bought him. Sleep, if you’re lucky to sleep, provides a comfort of a better time that ends abruptly when you wake up and realize you are alone.
You know what does work?
What will save you?
You.
Courage isn’t always running away, it isn’t packing suitcases and fleeing to discover a new life because the old one is in ruins. Sometimes courage is staying. Staying when you are alone. It’s being single in a world that feels like built for couples. A lone stray on the Ark. Sometimes courage is staying when running is the only thing that makes sense. When running is the only thing that feels right because nothing, absolutely nothing in your life feels like it’s yours. Courage is sitting in a doctor’s office every week and through sobs trying to recall the precise moment that your life began to unravel. It’s listening to marriage plans of your dearest friends when your heart is breaking. Courage is allowing yourself to feel joy at the idea of other people’s happiness. Because nothing, nothing is harder than letting yourself go far enough to experience a moment of happiness for someone else before realizing that as quickly as that feeling comes, it will leave and you will be left with only an echo of the happiness. A joy you miss so much you ache.
Courage is getting up everyday. Every goddamn day and doing what you did before. It’s driving the same route to work you did when you were happy. It’s eating the same dinner he used to tease you about. It’s watching the shows that he used to watch with you. It’s living the life you led with him, alone. It’s staying where you are, taking a magnifying glass to your sadness and being brave enough to sort through the tangled mess you’ve become. It’s being brave enough to realize a dramatic exit won’t cure your heartache and there isn’t a distraction big enough to make you forget the life you are immersed in. Courage isn’t always running to somewhere new, fleeing to someplace exotic to start over.
When everything is moving fast, when your sadness is palpable and the only thing that feels right is fleeing, sometimes courage is standing still. Even if it means you are standing alone and petrified.
Love you, miss brandy. For real.
You know that feeling is mutual!
Virtually holding your hand across the Canadian/American border.
… Yep. Hugs.
This post is amazing. The end.
Brandy, I love this. It may be the most poignant posts I’ve ever read. This year more than ever I’ve run from my problems, and have even considered running further but not having the courage to do so. I feel like trying hard will only prove to everyone what a failure I am even when I do try, so I try in secret – or I don’t at all.
I don’t really know what I’m trying to say, but I just want you to know that this piece of writing (this piece of your heart) really spoke to me. (And is getting bookarked to read time and time again.)
You are awesome, and wonderful.
Lady friend… I know we’ve discussed this and lots of things so I’m just going to say this:
YES.
You are brilliant. And beautiful and strong and I love you a lot.
xxoo Internet hugs until I can give you real ones.
Hi, I don’t really know what to say other than you’re not writing into the void and that I hope you come through this okay. Take care of yourself.
I’ve been harboring the same thoughts for a looooong time now. I’ve written about them endlessly in journals and yet you managed to capture these thoughts concisely (well, this is concise compared to what I’ve written) and more beautifully than I’ve ever been able to.
As was true in your case, HE was the one who ran away. The one who cut all our ties. The one who gallivanted in Europe and then eventually moved away. So many times, I wished I could have done the same. I was only able to manage a few small changes in my life to help me move on but ultimately, I just had to deal with it. It wasn’t a matter of change — it was a matter of time.
While I REALLY do admire the spirit of the people who are able to get and up go (heck I envy them!), it’s not a kind of life I can afford and it’s a kind of life that I think will ultimately hurt those who have stuck around for me.
I think those of us who don’t all of a sudden pick up yoga and engage in retail therapy and drown our worries in wine aren’t given enough credit. There’s also SO much bravery to just being still.
I’m not really sure why I’m rambling. I just wanted to say thank you for writing this.
*get up and go
I was so excited I forgot about proper word arrangements.
A-fucking-men. When I went through a big breakup a few years ago, I thought that running away would fix things, but financially, I couldn’t. So I stayed, drove the same roads, lived in our apartment, etc. And it was shit-tastic. But you know what? I faced it and I think it made me better in the end.
You’re amazing, my love. So amazing. I’m so proud of you.
Yeah. I think that running away can make it easier because the person’s mind is full of new things, which can help to push the old things out of the way for a while, but you are dealing with the old things now. And, on a happier note, if you had run away, who would be hearing your class talk about the dishwater?
This is both heartbreaking and beautiful. Definitely moving. I’ve definitely been there, lady. You are incredible.
you made me feel something with this post that i haven’t felt in a really long time.
thank you.
gosh lady, i’m sitting here crying after reading this. You’ve got a way with words. I wish you the very best.
You are just flat out awesome.
I never know what to say in the comments. I stare at the words I’ve just typed and delete them. I stare and do it again. I never feel like the words that I can muster up do enough justice for how I feel and for the nature of your post. It feels weird for me to say, but I am honestly thinking of you daily and admiring your courage and honesty and strength, even though I know that this has to be so hard for you.
Beautiful. Love your description of courage. Simply beautiful.
Well written Brandy.
you are SO brave, love. and i admire you, every single day.
xoxo
That is an incredible post, I think you really captured what courage is. I think you are brave and courageous and wonderfully honest.
*HUG*
Great post. I needed to read this today.
so extremely true. amazing job capturing it in such a resonating way. i’m not going to give you any platitudes that even sound like “it will be ok” – but the fact that you are still here and fighting and trying is testament to your level of awesome. keep fighting lady.
be-a-utifully written.
This post is about as honest as a post can be. The thing about grief is that there isn’t really anything you can say, or anything you can do to lessen what you’re feeling, or change that you will (eventually) have to just feel it to move forward. Happy thoughts, hey. Grief is never a fun place to be x
Fuck yes.
I was just reading in my Mark Nepo book about when you feel like all you want to do is run away, try standing still. So true.
Yoga might not save a person but it can bring them back to center. (Had to make my yoga plug. xo)
I just have to say that you summed this up nicely. My world also unraveled a bit last year. Everyone was shocked when I came in to work the day after some tragedies. But for me I had to keep going. I was losing it enough locking myself up at home on my couch in tears every night. I needed to do something to continue my life. So I did, I kept going, I got back into things I love. I did them for me. Yes it was good to have people around me to support me as they did but as you say, ultimately it was me that helped me get out of the hole I was in. Much love.
Thanks… I needed that. I really did. Thanks, again.
this is beautiful. truly. you are brave and strong and lovely. thank you for writing this.
Its an unfortunate fact, but what hurts us the most deeptly is the one thing that makes us grow far stronger.
This too, shall pass. And think of this: “Life is a great big canvas and you should throw all the paint on it you can, including the ugly colors.”
You’re ridiculous. In the most amazing, COURAGEOUS, real way possible.
I did the run away thing. I moved to Alberta and I’ll never regret it because the life I made there was fantastic. But hey, those problems I left behind? They were waiting for me when I returned. Running away is such a temporary relief. It doesn’t solve a problem, no matter how ‘brave’ and ‘bold’ it may be. Creating a new life doesn’t mean your old life doesn’t exist. And starting over is such a weird phrase. It can never truly be done. We’ll always carry pieces. We just have to hope we’re strong enough that they’re the good ones. The happy ones. The ones we want to keep.
To wrap it up: You’re amazing. Absolutely amazing. And I wish you all the strength (and sparkly things) in the world.
you’re amazing.
“Courage is getting up everyday. Every goddamn day and doing what you did before.”
Amazing. Yes. Amen.
Just keep being you…*hugs*
I used to read your blog months and months ago. I’m sure of it. I don’t know how I stopped. Just one of those things, I guess.
This post is exquisite. Maybe more so because it’s come at the perfect time for me. So thank you for writing. I guess that means I should also thank Eleni. I don’t know what she did to make you write but I’m not surprised that she’s the inspiration. She’s awesome.
Just to add to the perfection: there were 33 comments before me. Guess what my magic number is?
This is beautiful, lady. And so SO true. I ran away. I don’t regret running away because I had an amazing time and I saw gorgeous places and met beautiful people and for a year I was completely removed from the situation from which I ran. But it didn’t change anything. I moved back to Canada and the shit was still there – still shitty, just a bit stale. Keep on keepin’ on is what I’m trying to say. xoxo
So proud of you. XOXO
So true and it needs to be said. It seems like running away is almost trendy right now (I do blame “Eat, Pray, Love”) and we need to remember that it really doesn’t solve anything.
wow. Courage is standing still. I love that because its so true.
Stories like eat, pray, love only seem to really work out in the movies. And that leaves an ache of sorts as well, that…
life cannot be a movie.
But it can be ours. I pray that you find a way to be you again, sometimes in times of great sadness we lose who we are…so I pray that even though you are going through the worst of times, that somehow on the other end of this, you’ll be more for having gone through it.
I think sometimes, thats all that we can hope for. When you’re so emmersed in sadness, you can at least hope that something will come out of it.
I feel like anywords I say are completely inadequate, you don’t even know me, but I love your blog, and have been praying for you through all this.
I guess I just want to say, you give me courage to face things in my own life, and I feel it important to tell you that.
-Lauren
You are so right, sometimes the most courageous thing a person can do is stand up, stand still and just deal with it. I know it hurts and its the hardest thing you have to deal with it, but you’re doing so with beauty and grace. You are courageous.
I had the same problem with Eat Pray Love. I could face anything, if I could leave right after it happened… It’s staying around that is the hard part.
Ok so I finally had to de-lurk to tell you I think your blog is awesome and I’m glad it’s not private anymore!
Secondly, reading this made my heart hurt and my breath catch in my throat. Every time I read one of your posts I find myself nodding along in agreement, in understanding of so much of what you put onto the page (as a fellow Canadian the agreement also happens on the posts talking about the cold and snow..*sigh*).
You’re fabulous, and I love how you’re facing everything full on despite how much it seeks. Keep on keeping on, your attitude and courage inspires me to face my life and feelings with the same attitude.
All the best to you!
Patryce
This is a heart breakingly beautiful post, Brandy. Sometimes courage is staying and seeing it through, until the pain isn’t quite as strong. It does take courage to stay. A lot of courage.
I’m so proud of you. And yes, you’re right. You can’t avoid that neighborhood forever, Drea. It’s where all the good curry houses are.
Wow. This blew me away, Brandy. I am dealing with a similar situation: getting ready to run away from a life of heartache and ruins. Trying to make my life more “Eat Pray Love” like. But you’re right. Sometimes, it takes just at much courage to stay, rather than just run away.
Brandy, as a survivor of a broken engagement that felt like it was actually me that had broken–I really love this post. You really captured the essence of moving on after the devastating loss of what you considered to be your second half. Your words are eloquent and heartbreakingly beautiful. Thank you for sharing this.
In case I haven’t told you lately, I think you are amazing xo
This is so beautifully written and SO TRUE. Life has a funny little way of just going on in the face of all kinds of tragedies, doesn’t it.
Great post!!
This is so beautiful. I just wish I could have read it when my relationship of 11 years fell apart, because at the time I didn’t realize how much courage it took not to run.
You are brave and strong and inspiring. Thank you for writing this.
(PS — I am so glad your blog is no longer private.)
Wow! That was exactly what I needed to read this morning. Thanks so much. I never really liked yoga anyway…
I meant my comment on your blog secret post about this post–duh. I am so tired. Anyways, love you and your blog.