Pain, Loss, Inspiration, and Hot Sauce (A Journal Entry).
Prologue
Today marks my 10th blog post, and to celebrate, I decided I’m just going to ramble from the heart.
From the date I started this blog to now, my world has flipped its head upside down, and recently, something’s been happening… writer’s block. Ah yes, the dreaded woe to writers around the globe.
After much digging and pondering, I think I’ve figured out why I’ve been faced with this.
But first, I have to tell you my story.
Chapter One: The Worst Christmas of My Life.
At least ONE of the worst. In December into early January, I went through a deeply painful period (for several reasons), which was around the time I started this blog. Not only was it the start of my writing endeavours, but it was the start of my healing.
I had decided I wanted to launch a blog prior to my brutal awakening, but I had no idea where to begin. Once I found myself in this state of inward reflection, I realized that my words have always helped people. I realized that maybe sharing my experiences and outlooks on life will not only help ME heal and grow, but it just might help someone else going through similar situations.
I think many writers — or any creative — can relate to the feeling of having unwavering inspiration during periods of pain. I mean, I swear — during that time, the words were practically spilling out of my mouth (along with tears) onto paper, without strain.
Chapter Two: Agonizing Pain and Huy Fong Sriracha Sauce.
During the first bit, I allowed myself to sit in the agony even when I simply couldn’t bear it. I distinctly recall being in Loblaws searching for Huy Fong Sriracha sauce with tears in my eyes, remembering that just a few months prior, I was walking around the same Loblaws smiling ear to ear from pure joy.
It took me a moment to realize that there was a twisted beauty in that.
These emotions that we face as humans are complex and haunting, yet bewilderingly simple. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve seen someone silently weeping on a bus or in a grocery store.
For a while, I questioned what positives I even got out of the situation that caused me that pain (other than losing 15 pounds), and now that I’m free of the agony, I can tell you:
Steadfast strength and wisdom.
If I can get through that kind of pain, I can get through almost anything.
Chapter Three: Clarity and Healing
I did (and continue to do) the work on myself, took the time to let myself lonesomely be the things I needed to be, and then I started to move on.
I started to want to get out and live life again; I started getting excited and passionate about my career and creative ventures. I made new friends, saw old friends, and even started to warm up to the idea of meeting someone.
Most importantly, I became comfortable with my loneliness. In fact, I even started to enjoy it. And you know what? Things were starting to not feel so painful.
I was getting busier and busier with big changes afoot, but with that came a lack of inspiration. Not that I haven’t been doing anything inspiring — I have more going on now than I’ve had in a long time — I just don’t feel so sad anymore.
Chapter Four: Finding Inspiration When You’re NOT a Weepy Gloomy Mess.
I have always struggled to write from a place of anything other than anger or sadness. As I was experiencing this predicament, a friend recently reached out (you know who you are <3) and told me he’s going through his season of solitude right now.
He explained the struggle he’s been facing, and two things went through my mind: on the one hand, I truly felt for him and reflected on my own pain; on the other hand, it made me realize how far I’ve come along. This interaction inspired me to write this post because it reminded me that sometimes when you’re happy, inspiration comes from what you’ve learned, what you continue to learn, and where you’re going.
If you had asked me a few months ago if I thought the pain was going to be worth it one day, I would have laughed at you and then cried (lol).
I reflect on those times when I thought the agony would never lift, and I smile. If you properly deal with it, the agony WILL lift — I promise.
Epilogue
As my mom always says, “I’m not where I want to be, but thank GOD I’m not where I used to be.”
