Hey again. Sorry for another large delay. Life has been a bit crazy for me personally—I’ve been working more to support these crazy jaunts, I’ve been planning a few cool things for my Milwaukee writing group, and I’ve also been working on learning (with the help of a few awesome people I’ve met in the past few months) how the heck to fix up this beautiful old rust free 1979 Chevy van that’s recently entered my life, which I’m hoping to take on the road with me over the summer once it’s a bit more reliable (if I play my financial cards right, and if I set aside enough time to actually learn how to fix it).
I’m also on the road right now, for a mini week-long tour on the eastern edge of the midwest. I signed in Pittsburgh this past weekend at Mystery Lovers (again!), and I am signing in East Aurora, NY at the Bookworm tomorrow at 1pm before heading back home to Milwaukee. I’m also traveling with Jason Hillman, who is my photographer/videographer and also a pretty great comic. He has a few comedy dates lined up in this direction, which has been another fun way to get to know the cities we’re staying in. We’ve been working on how to make these tours work for both of us, so we’re both progressing to where we’d like to be eventually. So far, so good.
I planned this trip over Thanksgiving for a few reasons. 1) I’ve recently gotten a lot more responsibility at my current job, and it’s easier to travel during a holiday week when it’s slower. 2) Handsome Jack and King Buffalo were playing in Buffalo, NY this past Wednesday, and I like to go to shows when I’m on the road. 3) Holidays are not getting easier, and I knew, for myself, that they were going to be especially rough this year.
I can’t say how I knew this exactly—I just did. Even as far back as August, when I started planning when and where I’d be traveling. Kind of like how animals or your arthritic uncle know when a storm is coming. It’s an ache, deep within the bones of my soul. I love my city, and I’ve built a beautiful support system for myself, but I knew I had to escape. I’m trying to be mindful of these escapes—running towards something, rather than running away from the pain, but I admit this trip was a bit of both.
But you can’t run away from everything, especially when a lot of what you’re running from is the memories within your head. They stay with you, no matter which city you’re in.
And these feelings seem to grow stronger over the holidays. I’m not sure why that is exactly—I mentioned in Moving Forward that it’s the routine and traditions surrounding the holidays, but I want to revise that. Even when I escape the routine and traditions, when I’m away from everything I know and am inundated with new sights and sounds, there’s still a longing aching feeling. As I sat in a Cracker Barrel in Williamsville, NY yesterday, even a simple slice of pumpkin pie reminded me of Jake, excitedly telling me about the amazing pies his uncle makes, or the kielbasa his grandpa gets specially from a Polish butcher in the city. It’s difficult to explain that to Jason, who was sitting across from me, that I’m happy and grateful for the current experience, but I’m also sad as all get-out and no, there’s nothing he can do to fix it. I can imagine that’s frustrating as hell. It’s a mental split—I’m incredibly grateful for where I am now, but that gratefulness does not mean that I do not also feel sadness during these times.
It’s not a simple swap of traditions that will magically fix everything—sometimes, you can’t escape it. Maybe it’s the cold, or maybe it’s the rhetoric of community surrounding the holidays. Maybe it’s the memories that come up when looking at others celebrating with their spouses. I’m not sure. All I know is that they’re rough, and that it’s especially important to be mindful during these times of where you’re at mentally.
I started this next part as a journal entry earlier today, when I was feeling particularly off kilter, then realized this is something I wanted to share with all of you. Last night, I had a dream that Jake was still alive. And as I’ve been open about, I do have Jake dreams often. There are some that repeat, like the dreams I have of us driving through Merton WI in the middle of summer, to the more traumatic PTSD induced dreams.
This one was different though. It was a warped version of the trope dream: “oh, shit. It’s the end of the semester and I just realized I completely forgot about that one necessary class I enrolled in that I need to graduate”.
In my dream, Jake showed up after I hadn’t seen him in three years, wondering where I’ve been. In my dream, we were still together. In my dream, I had simply forgotten about him until I saw him, face to face, three years later. In my dream, it was right before Thanksgiving, and in the pit of my gut I was scared to reenter that world that was once so familiar to me, knowing what I know now.
And even after I woke up, I could still see his eyes, pleading, wondering where the hell I’ve been for the past three years, wondering what had changed and hoping to return back where we had been before. I can still see them now, in my mind’s eye, clear. Assuring me, desperately, that it’d be fine, that I could come back, even though I knew it wasn’t and that I couldn’t. There was a sense of desperate longing that I often try not to think about—the feeling we both felt leading up to his final days. The feeling of “how can we go back to what we had before”, even though we both knew it wasn’t possible. Even after I woke up, that feeling lingered.
And over the course of my recovery, I’ve grown used to these dreams. That’s not to say they’re easier, but truly that I’ve grown used to them and I know how to get through them, for the most part. While this one was different, it brought a feeling that’s grown roots in my mind, no matter how much logic I throw at it like mental equivalent of Round-Up Weed Killer. No matter where I am in this process, I will always hold the guilt that I wasn’t there for him as much as I feel I should have been at that time. This holds especially true around the holidays—these thoughts become more frequent, for whatever reason.
Hearing that I “did all that [I] could do” from others doesn’t help me—it’s a guilt so internal and shielded from the logical outside world. Telling me that I shouldn’t feel guilty is like telling me I shouldn’t feel happy when I see a picture of a month-old kitten slipping all over a freshly-waxed hardwood floor as she tries to run across it. That feeling—it’s stuck in my brain, no matter what anyone says. I feel guilty for moving on, no matter how much time has passed, and no matter how unhealthy I know it would be to continuously cling to this memory of Jake.
I think this is unfortunately natural—our brains try to retroactively fix problems, to try to learn from our mistakes so we can navigate the world better. But when this instinct is manifested in the things we can no longer fix, it tends to overstay its welcome. My logical and emotional brain are at odds in these moments—logically, I know what I need to do to heal, but emotionally, I focus on everything I could have done to prevent this loss, even if there’s nothing I can do to fix it now.
But just because it’s a natural feeling doesn’t mean we should go along with it. Even though it is natural, and even though these guilts are still lodged in my mind, I know that in order to be where I want to be going forward, that I need to address them internally. Step one for me is doing what I’m doing right here—addressing it, analyzing it, and admitting that I am in control of my thoughts, not a slave to them. Step two, I’m still working on that, but I’m hoping it will come to me soon (any advice in the comments that’s worked for you—it’s welcome.)
In these moments, I feel guilty parading a book around saying “maybe this will help” when truly, I’m still struggling myself. I do not see this struggle getting better, no matter how much I work on it. I see it getting different, and I see myself learning how to navigate it better, but I do not see the hurt healing, ever. Despite this, I hope that, in our shared struggles, we can find some sort of strength. This is what I hope to do, and I hope that resonates with you. I know, by sharing my story and by listening to your stories, I feel less alone in these moments. I hope you feel the same.
Album? Okay, I’m backtracking again, but as I mentioned, I saw Handsome Jack and King Buffalo two days ago, who I both love equally. I’ve already shared a King Buffalo album, so I’m sharing the LP that you may recognize from literally all of Moving Forward’s promotional material: “Everything’s Gonna Be Alright” by Handsome Jack (buy it here). This album means a lot to me, for a few reasons. So many of the tracks in here mirrored the things I needed to hear at a particular point in time, specifically “Keep On” and “Getting Stronger”. Others are downright dancey fun tunes, like “Baby Be Cool.” 10/10, yes. And to keep on with the uncomfortably personal ratings, they’re also some of the coolest guys you’ll ever meet, so you should definitely support them. If you get the chance to see them, would you do me a favor and tell Jamison I say hi? (only after you buy merch from them, of course).