I’m going to start off by saying that what I have to say is not good life advice. Except, on the whole, it actually is good life advice. So do with this all what you will.
I had to break up with a friend today. She has not been respecting my boundaries, and when I addressed this, rather than apologizing, she acted like she didn’t know what I was talking about. And then she tried to come between me and my husband, tried to cause drama between us.
And so….
Death isn’t the source of grief. It is only a source of grief. Grief can be caused by any permanent (or drastic) loss or change. When you moved in middle school, and it felt like your world was ending? Grief. When you lost your job and got all depressed for a week? Grief. It comes from many sources and takes different forms.
…One of this week’s World Anvil Summer Camp prompts is about “a tradition that gives comfort.”
Refuge from grief has as many forms as grief. For example, I drink and write words!1
I allow myself a small, pre-determined window of time to wallow in my grief, to drink, to make (safe) bad decisions. And then, I put on my big-girl panties and go back to living my very best life.
Today, I’ve allowed myself exactly until I go to bed tonight. The first thing I did was reach out on all my socials. I started with the simple phrase, “I am not OK today.” I gave a simple version of why, similar to what I’ve said here. And then I ended with, “I am not OK today. I might not be OK tomorrow. But I am better off.” Because I am.
And almost immediately, and throughout the course of the afternoon and evening, my writing friends have been reaching out. The ones who understand the sacred art of preserving your own peace, of being able to live with yourself, and with your choices. The sensitive souls who see the whole of humanity and understand — or strive to understand — its seemingly infinite nuances.
“Would it help you to tell me about it?” and “Please write about this, even if it’s only to yourself.” were the two things I heard most often.2
I have my own tradition to celebrate grief, it is personal to me. And the writing community — or at least my little corner of it — has its own tradition of helping each other through grief.
Booze and words, my friends. Booze and words.
Drinking is not a solution to anything. It’s not even a solution to feelings. But it is an option as a temporary escape. A glass of wine and a bath. A beer and garbage TV. A hard cider and a world-building article.
I’ve had one hard lemonade as I streamed. It lasted through dinner.3 I threw my energy into writing the article that has been giving me the most struggle: the settlement founded as a place of refuge, and I wrote about Old Avalon. And then I sat down here to write this rambling rhapsody on refuge. Because writing is my refuge. It has been for as long as I can remember.
You need more writer friends. Because when you’re down, they’ll remind you what’s really important. And maybe even help you find a way to brighten the grieving souls in your world-building by drawing on real-world inspiration.
Make healthy choices, friends. Respect boundaries. Apologize for the harm you do and accept accountability for your actions.
Hence…why I call these days, “Hemmingway Days!” 😂
Not these exact phrases, but certainly variations on a theme. Along with many “Good for you, I know how hard it is, but you’re doing the right thing looking out for your mental health and personal boundaries.” Sometimes, it’s nice to hear that you’ve made the right choice.
This situation isn’t worth the hangover; it’s not like my mom died. That was worth the hangover.
I'm sorry to hear of your recent friendship turbulence. It is never easy.
I agree, writing friends are so important to the process. I could always use more and I'm always trying to foster more.
I'm so sorry for what had happened and glad you worked through it. Good call distancing yourself from that so-called "friend"!