Whole/Hole.

Another late night of failing at sleeping. I don't know why brains do this to us. Are they such petty and jealous hos that because we had to do things like work during the day, that they demand all our attention at night?

I don't know, but my brain is definitely a slut for pain. No, I take that back. It's partly my fault too for not processing all these awful things to begin with. I stored them away thinking out of sight, out of mind. I think to myself, "this hurts too much so I'll deal with that when I have space to do so." But there is never a good space for things that hurt. Regardless of where you store it, it's not going to hurt less later. In fact it will probably only get worse. Have you seen potatoes that get forgotten in the bin?

They rot, they smell, and grow a million eyes to accusingly look deep into your soul when you finally remember to toss them. Same with repressed feelings.

We hide them away out of sight, out of mind, thinking we will never have to see them again. But, as soon as you turn the lights out all that's left are the million eyes of your rotting, stinking feelings watching you in the dark with nowhere to go.

So every night I'm here, swimming in my discomfort and paying the obnoxious late fee for not dealing with this when I should've.

I think a lot about everything. I think about elephants and how they should be the next species to evolve and have civilizations. I think about kids having birthdays where no one is celebrating them, and that makes me want to cry. I think about what balloons that escape the grips of humans must feel like as they rise into the atmosphere racing across the clouds.

And I think about grief.

I am always thinking about grief. I can't help it. I miss a lot of people. I have so many holes.

The thing about being a human is that you are like this pool of memory and emotions just swishing around in a body. Some people you meet, they walk right through you. You never see them again and the ripple effect of their meeting does very little to change the currents and stream of your swishy feely soul.

But then there's people you love. The problem with loving people is that people die, people leave, and sometimes you have to leave them. When these people pass through you, they leave holes in your lining. All your memories and emotions spill out and what you're left with is the choice to rip apart completely or refill and repair.

It's just over four years since 5 people I loved all passed away within two months of each other. It's not even been a year since others.

I have tried to patch every hole left behind by the memory of their love. I have used every resource to try and stay "whole" in a sense to alleviate the very pain of having holes.

And at night my memories and feelings swish and slosh around sometimes leaking out around these shoddy quick repair jobs.

Over time, I've learned a few things.

You can patch the hole, but you'll never be the same. You transform a little into someone different every time you lose someone you love. Not necessarily negative, but you're different. You're different because a huge part of your life that influenced you is gone. So, of course you are going to be someone different now.

While the memory of the hole is always there, it doesn't have to hurt you forever. While you may never be totally "whole" again, you can still be happy. You can still move on. You can still live a good life. You do this by letting love in. You take the pool of love, memories, and laughter of the people still with you, and you swish and slosh until you get those magical breaks where you ALMOST forget you had holes at all.

I would argue though that it is in your best interest not to get carried away with the swishing and sloshing in order to forget.

You don't really want to forget permanently. You loved these people. You simply don't want it to hurt as much.

That's fair. No one wants to hurt.

The problem with laying with your thoughts in the dark is that you can't see to unravel the tangled mess of feelings. You're just feeling everything at once.

For me, it feels like a race to feel whole while embracing the bittersweet memories of having holes.

I know this probably doesn't make sense to anyone but me. So in simpler terms, it's okay to have holes because they are imprints of love that happened in your life. It's ok to feel like you'll be sad forever, because that doesn't mean you can't be happy sometimes too. The evolution of grieving is learning that you can be both, sad and happy at the same time, whole and full of holes all at once.

I would like to thank my family and friends with me now that help me have good days even when things are bad.

I would like to thank my friends and family no longer with me for being a part of my life and helping shape me into the person I am today.

And I would like to thank myself for in the midst of all this loss and death, I choose life even though it sucks sometimes. I am grateful to be whole while full of holes.

(For the record, earlier this year I bought and used up before they went rotten, an entire bag of potatoes.

It's the first time in a long time that I got through them before they poisoned my house.

I mention this as a literal and metaphorical achievement.

It's a sign that someday good things will come as long as I don't forget to do something about the potatoes in the bin.)

All of my love to all the people reading this in the dark, forgetting about their potatoes, trying to feel whole again too. ❤️

-K.