Sadness is a broad category. If I were to compare it to anything, sadness is similar to a primary color. There are so many different types of sadness, too. There is grief, loneliness, anguish, homesickness…the list goes on. Each type of sub-emotion of sadness can lead you on a different path through it. Some you can get out quicker with a more simple solution, such as homesickness. Others, such as grief, are not as easily solved.
Why the intro on sadness? Well, I want to talk about grief and the complexity of sadness (in a way) a bit. It will mainly be me pondering in a way. I have mostly been contemplating my reactions to things as of late. I always like to figure out why I do what I do. I want to know myself. However, something that intrigued me lately is how closely tied I seem to be with grief. Now, just so we are on the same boat, the definition of grief is, ‘deep sorrow, especially that caused by someone’s death.‘ To put it plainly, I have been sad a lot lately (womp womp). Everyone experiences sadness differently, and over the years, it changes too. Most recently, my experience has changed as well. When I become sad–and I mean sad enough to cry–I begin to think of what my Grandma would think of me now. She passed away in 2016 when I was 11. I am 21 now. I also begin to think of my dog Pixie dying. She is currently 15. I have had her since I was 5 (she is a little soulless, but I still love her).
A lot has happened since 2016. So much so that I could write a book. Friends have come and gone, people and pets have died, and me…I grew up. Or did I? I ask,’ Would she be proud of me?‘ Or ‘what would she think of me now?‘ almost every time I have a bit of a breakdown. It also leads us to think of Pixie’s (my dog) inevitable death. She is 15, and that is old for a dog. She is in very good health right now, but I have to come to terms with the fact it’s coming up. As I write this, I hear her breathing in the hallway outside my door. My family makes fun of her loud snoring and tongue that hangs outside her mouth, but I find it to be some of the most endearing things about her. But right now, her breathing gives me comfort. It makes me happy even.
Why have I begun to have this weird mixture of grief and sorrow? I have suddenly started to mourn someone I lost years ago, and I am also already mourning someone I will lose soon. It’s not quite grief. When I began college, I began to despise change. I started to have this thought more frequently about ‘what if everything stayed the same?‘ But the thought would stress me out so much that my mind would just space out afterward. It would just be impossible. I began to like the concept of snowglobes since they hold moments in them that never change.
As I have grown, so much has changed. I think I yearned for the steadiness and success I had as a kid. As silly as that sounds. I was a good kid. I got straight A’s in middle school, except maybe one or two B’s? Before my Grandma’s death, I was genuinely a very happy kid, and I did good. However, a couple months later, things began to take a turn. Starting with my epilepsy diagnosis (boo), things never felt the same after sixth grade..
Since then, I feel like I have only succeeded a handful of times, and as I have gotten older, my success has become even worse. Maybe this is the path to adulthood. However, I feel like I am running so far behind. I feel like I am just lost. I constantly hear how I will never succeed and that I am very different from the rest of my family. So, I find myself looking back to times when I was more successful and grieving the loss of those eras. Grieving what I had then. Grieving my connections to those eras.
My Grandma knew me only before I became a mess. She always loved and supported me. I don’t remember her saying a single negative thing to me. Maybe that’s why I desperately want to know what she would think of me now. Would she be disappointed in who I have become? Would she hate my art? Or would she still love me and my art?
Pixie is one of the last connections, if not the previous, connection I have to my childhood. She is the living and breathing connection to my childhood. She has been with me through my highs and lows (whether she knew it or not). I am 90% sure she knew I was having seizures before anyone else did because she started coming into my room in the morning and chilling with me. Then, when I got my medications all sorted, she stopped. I feel that the love between a person and an animal can’t be appropriately described by words when one of them doesn’t speak. Although she probably doesn’t love me because I constantly hunt her down to pet her, I have begun to grieve her death. Even though she is still with me. I think that may be because I know she has loved me unconditionally. I believe it is rare to feel unconditionally loved by anyone. They may say their love is unconditional, but when times get tough, they leave, or their ‘conditions’ start to show. Generally speaking, I feel that is why people love animals so much. They love unconditionally.
I think that is how I felt about my Grandma, and I believe that is what I yearn for now: someone who loves unconditionally. I know that is impossible to ask of anyone. Could I even love someone unconditionally? People say they can, but do they know what it really means? Loving unconditionally comes with a heavy burden and may not always come with a reward. But everyone can ponder the topic of unconditional love in their own way.
So, what’s the point of this post? Rambling, of course! Just kidding…or am I? I wanted to write about how I have recently handled sadness and ‘crash-outs.’ This was probably word vomit, and I hope it made sense. Definitely a heavy first post. Hope to follow it up with a more fun one…maybe talking about music or something. I don’t know.
Hope those of you reading liked my first official post.
Peace up, A-Town,
Claire