Showing up messily is still showing up

aka I have no idea what to write today

I don’t even know where to start. Two weeks ago, we said goodbye to our beloved 16-year-old cats. I took a two-week break from work Substack pretty much everything except rewatching all of The Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit movies. Oh, and grieving. I did a lot of that, too. I am still finding my way through the fog that grief has made of my brain.

I knew it would be hard. I have grieved deep love before. I knew there would be tears, exhaustion, poor appetite, strange moods, listlessness. I knew grieving would be a process, intense and all-consuming at first, gradually softening to a bittersweet ache and perhaps even something akin to joy (oh, how I look forward to the days when my memories bring me more sweetness than sadness. I know I’ll get there, I really do.).

I was not prepared for the loss of so much brain capacity. Simple tasks required monumental effort. The work of eating, bathing, and basic conversation took everything I had. Forget about writing; even reading fiction — usually one of my greatest joys — became too much.

The full moon at Carson Hot Springs in the Columbia River Gorge, October 2024 — photo by author

Slowly, slowly, I am coming back to myself… and discovering as I do that I am transformed.

There is a new tenderness in me, a sentimentality I never dreamed I could feel. I lay flowers in the places our cats used to sleep. I light candles in honor of their flame. I bought a necklace with a little compartment where I can keep a bit of Stella’s fur (there are still tufts of it all over her favorite blanket). It’s made of lapis lazuli, and the flecks of pyrite glimmering against the dark blue remind me of the stars after which she was named. I will wear it next to my heart.

This is the pendant I purchased. It shipped today. Image source: LoveLox

I was very tempted this morning to take another week off from writing. I’m still grieving. I’m still a mess. But last December, I made a commitment to myself that I would start a daily writing practice. I’ve taken a few breaks when I needed them, but for the most part, I’ve managed to show up.

Do I still need this break? I asked myself today.

Maybe, came my mind’s reply, but we need to show up more.

I’m a mess. You’re probably a mess, too. Yet here we are, showing up, doing the thing, putting our time toward the work that matters — messily, no doubt.

It still counts.

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