Sweet Love Hangover
Fresh off the high of giving away my best friend in the most perfectly-her-wedding, I sat in the hangover of family, love, gathering and I asked myself very seriously what was next for me? I started to ask myself the question earnestly after my dad passed away. Never before did I have such an ache, a longing, for family. Specifically a family of my own.
Maybe because the Christmases were never going to be the same, but I began to feel uneasy and anxious about the idea of celebrating the holiday with our new normal nuclear family and found greater peace in daydreaming about having kids to pass down the traditions to. Christmas was, is, my parents…mom’s favorite holiday. They, she is ridiculous with the amount of detail and baked goods, the holiday cards posted around the house, the sounds of Luther Vandross or Whitney Houston blasting from all the speakers. There was never anything I ever wanted for Christmas that I did not get. And honestly, there isn’t much in my entire childhood that I wanted for and that included love. It wasn’t that I didn’t understand how much my dad loved me, us, it’s just that after he passed something shifted.
The waterfall of losses that have followed has been devastating. I haven’t been able to go five months without a loss of someone close to me in the past 18 months. Unexpected. Young people. Close family. Kitchen Table Friends. Big Sisters. Uncles. When I pause to truly allow the gravity of loss to hit me it feels as though I will implode. Like a star. First a burst and then collapse into myself; an infinite pull of darkness and spiraling. Will I find someone to build a life with? Do I need to be more intentional with dating? Do I need to move back to the South where I actually want to raise children? Will I even get to grow old? How can I be as happy as possible knowing tomorrow isn’t guaranteed? How am I going to make a living? Will my mental health get in the way of me being able to successfully sustain myself? Am i doing everything wrong? What am I missing?
I was acutely aware that at home, away from my best friend and the hum of a bustling Southern wedding weekend I could hear the quiet of my own thoughts. Thoughts that absolutely overwhelmed me and on many days had left me unable to decide how to move forward with my day and therefore stuck in bed drowning in possibility. That is my worst fear, actually. Living a life that doesn’t match how great I know I can be. Does that sound crazy? Maybe even ungrateful given all that I have accomplished and been blessed with. And it’s not necessarily that I, Jessica, want more. It’s that…I feel I am built for more. Anyone who knows me knows my biggest spending vice is other people. I work to spoil those around me, and it brings me peace knowing that the people in my life who are important to me feel Seen Loved Considered Valued and Cherished. So I gift. I also send love notes. I capture tender moments and try my best to keep in touch and show up for the big things. Love is a verb and I try to live to make sure I have a funeral full of people who I sowed a seed of love in. Maybe it’s morbid to think of, but it’s been heavy on my mind (all things considered smile and nod to Kiese)
Much of the hangover feels like a shake up on my foundation kind of in the same way a funeral does. Prince Harry talked about experiencing something similar after his fathers second marriage, happy but also a grieving like there had been a death. And to some extent, there has been. Though also, every new beginning comes from some other beginnings end. Endings are necessary to our growth and evolution. The truth is, I’m thrilled to see my best friend be so insanely happy. The truth also is, true to who we are, we stayed up for hours snuggling on a couch while she talked me through the Succession finale even though I’ve never seen an episode. Nothing had changed even though everything had.
Just like Christmas. My sisters and I make sure we still do stockings like Dad would do, getting Mom a magazine, toiletries, her favorite candy, and a lottery ticket. Well let’s be clear, baby sis does and me and the spare send a venmo. Still, it’s done. We adjust. We are adjusting. There are days I will wake up and miss him so much I ache. I though of him this weekend and how he would’ve fit in with mom among the melee. I think about how he would respond to this version of us and then I think, this version of us only exists because he’s gone. We have been changed not just by his love but by his loss; our emotional gait has changed and the alignment of our entire being has shifted.
So when I consider what do You want? The thing that comes to me most strongly is: "Peace”. I work backwards from there. What feels like Peace for me? Being useful. Helping and being of service. Making connections and having time to reflect and make thoughtful offerings to my community. I want a home. A space of my own. I have a vision and I want to see it through because more than anything in the world, I never want to ever betray my own heart.
I do want love. I would love to have a family of my own, and I am open to it looking like however God sees fit. My career, however, feels like something I can be more proactive about. Though, when I think about it, both are asking someone to fall for and with you, in a way. There’s vulnerability and true connection between healers, teachers artists and their communities. There’s that in romantic love, too, if you’re one of the lucky ones.
Driving home the 9 hours across Virginia and Tennessee to Alabama, my mama asked me what my type was, and I have to note that she said it all sassy with my middle name because she was insisting that I didn’t know what I wanted. Smart. I said, at first. No…not smart…curious. I like people who like to learn, someone who questions things and sees the possibility in things. Later, I thought, I’d add, and I want someone who has met themselves. Seeing the divinity in your own being is something core to who I am and how I understand the world. I guess it’s my own sort of spiritual core value. I don’t need someone who has it all figured out, just someone who knows there is always work to do to honor our ever evolving Self, even if they would never in a million years use those words.
I want to be able to take a Sunday drive out to visit my mama and come back home to smoke a blunt at sunset on my own front porch. I want to be closer and I can accept that perhaps it took a lot of loss to redirect my attention back home. I do not, however, want to come back on my knees and I won’t. I am going to make my way, one day at a time, one moment at a time.