This warms my anarchist heart.
Nobody Cares About Your Election
Grateful and Grieving
My intuition is of a returning.
Although I spent decades in a survival mode borne out of childhood/generational traumas, what I have become is closer to the youngest version of myself I can remember.
That was a kinder, more compassionate, deeply empathetic incarnation. That Jason lacked the tools to manage a vulnerability to atmospheric emotions that could crumple him into tears. Heck, I still don’t know how to carry the pain I sense at times.
I connect with my ten-year-old Self. He foresaw my parents divorcing three years ahead of the announcement. He couldn’t hear news updates without being overwhelmed. He didn’t have clear spiritual or emotional guidance, not at the depth that he needed. That Jason made a decision that profoundly saddens me: to cleave the world into a dichotomy of victims and victimizers. I had spent years feeling the hurt of the victims and didn’t want to remain on that side of the ledger. I wasn’t a strong or big kid, but I had a quick wit and, therefore, a dangerous mind.
I thank God for that mind, but I employed it in evil ways. That’s when I became the past Self of the meme. I love that Jason, but it is hard. He damaged himself and others to survive. He walled himself up in his mental talents while ignoring the Love that God had placed in his heart.
Simultaneously, I am grateful for my journey while I grieve it.
Staying in the Moment
I feel the Lockdown creeping back. Today was an escape from the rising tide of cult maskism.
We learned about edible plants, found a baby bird and snapping turtle, celebrated a friend’s birthday and new remote-controlled boat, and excercised our imaginations.
We did it all unafraid and without hiding our faces from the world or each other.
“…a new phase, a new loss.”
C.S. Lewis does few brilliant things in A Grief Observed. Highest in my estimation is the use of questions with very few answers. He has a curious mind and allows it to ponder all the awful Whys, What ifs, How coulds, and Whens of his bereavement.
At no point does he try to universalize the process of grief. Even for himself, he doesn’t claim to find consistent ways of moving through the journey. When a turn in the valley appears to mimic a previous pass, he recognizes that it is in a different sequence and therefore carries fresh meaning, pain, healing, or various mixes of all. Each day is particularly exhausting, sometimes in the excitement, sometimes in the grinding, and sometimes in the slog.
It’s a book unabashedly about an individual grief and, in that way, more honest than most of the literature on the subject I’ve yet come across.
God bless,
Jason
Seasonal Changes
What a day. I woke up in my house, alone. I knew the possibilities the day held, but didn’t have the desire to take advantage.
A few messages shared with a buddy reminded me that we are almost always the only ones in our way.
So I cleaned myself up and hiked with Delaware Nature Society‘s 20s and 30s Club (yes, I’m aging out soon) at Trailfest on the new path from Dupont Environmental Education Center (DEEC) to New Castle. I didn’t take my camera and only took pics when Stone Shakers played AC/DC as children climbed all around. I regretted that my boys weren’t there to enjoy, especially the dance floor could have used a couple hot steppers and the helicopter moms needed to see my perpetually bruised boys enjoying any danger they could conjure.
I stayed after the 20s (it was a light turnout) left and soaked up the final set. It was awkward. There was a #boymom without a wedding ring sitting a few feet away. If my sons had been there, conversation would have been easy, if not unavoidable. I’ve got to relearn how to do these things on my own. I made a small effort, but chickened out on any small talk.
The sound was great in the green area in the center of the DEEC parking lot. I was disappointed at missing The Honey Badgers. It *maybe* won’t happen again.
I went directly to a pick-up soccer match wherein my side was largely trounced (although, we did finish strong). No pics because, well, soccer.
I next resolved to participate in the Fall Equinox Labyrinth Walk at Delaware Art Museum. My late wife introduced me to my favorite museum ten years ago. I have walked the labyrinth in and out dozens of times, but never without Mary and/or my children. Of course, I was not alone, many were walking, including a dear Museum employee and friend who has known us since our home education journey began, a BJJ family from Elevated Studios, and a very cute girl who meditated alongside me at the center of the labyrinth and left before I could introduce myself.
Mind Body Spirit Healing Room was also there for a moving blessing and to provide cleansing smudges. I’ve done a lot of things, but this may have been my first cleansing smudge (or is it smudge cleansing?). The blessing changed my course. She guided us to gather up the things of the egressing season on our way in and let them go on our way out. As a habit, I generally make this a half-mile prayer, not lingering in the center. This time I sat and concentrated on my breathing in the center. I had gathered up so many thoughts that I could hardly leave that center. I hesitated hard when stepping out, but I knew I couldn’t stay. On the journey out I felt a physical release. The BJJ family giggled and gave me high fives and I exchanged timid glances with the very cute girl as our paths often came near.
I thought it would be takeout and a few beers at home after that. I’d had a good day, an energetic step into a new season. But I wasn’t finished reconnecting with that Jason from 13 years ago, the one sitting alone at a bar, reading under terrible light, not sure whether another very cute girl would show up or not.
I used to go out on my own all the time: movies, restaurants, parks, concerts, bars…I needed to take that back as the equinox approached. I sat at the bar at Stoney’s for dinner. The Gene Huff Trio played fine jazz and it brought me way back to Vincent’s, a jazz bar in West Chester that I started to frequent before I was of legal drinking age. There was no anxiety about flirting, or not flirting, with the bartender. I simply enjoyed my Pie of the Day, a couple IPAs, and myself.
I’m younger now. There’s a mountain of sorting to do, but I’ve gathered and discarded much of the refuse I’ve been carrying. I’m identifying those pieces that are critical, feeding them attention and using them to build a new life.
It was an inward-looking day among many people who have no idea how they helped me to explore myself. This is my thank you to all of them.
God bless,
Jason
GriefShare Made Me Do It
GriefShare is an amazing, Christian organization that brings together those who have lost loved ones and helps them walk through the grieving process. One of the exercises they suggest is to write a “grief letter” to those around you to explain what you need. What proceeds is my attempt.
Dear Friends and Family,
I lost Mary almost seven months ago. I have goals that may seem impossible. I have a lot of optimism. I have the brazenness to imagine a life that is bigger and better than the one I had with Mary. It is not a dishonor to that life. Mary taught me and showed me how to be a greater man, husband, and father. If I don’t apply those lessons, then I let them die with her.
I’ll never “replace” Mary. She will be in my heart always. She will be my sons’ mother always. She will remain a model for the way I wish to treat people. But, I am lonely.
You’re seeing parts of me that only Mary knew. Things from inside me that were just for her. Every joke on Facebook and every picture I share, those are moments that I don’t know what to do with now.
You’re also seeing parts of me that are growing, taking form. I’ve never known a loneliness like this, I can’t recall being unhappy just because I was alone at all. When I’m writing I can pause and think of a careful way to express this new set of emotions. When I’m speaking I can work through complex emotions quickly, but I’m much less careful. I need your patience and understanding in these moments.
I need you to understand that I have different needs and desires and that honestly exploring those feelings is a critical part of my healing.
I don’t want to hurt anyone. I don’t want to utter an insensitive phrase. But, it is going to happen and I daresay I’ve been on the receiving end of many more unintended daggers.
There has to be something good about this new life. Not just the good things that are left from the old life. I have to joke and smile and be Jason Michael Zerbey all the way. I have to hope and dream and work my butt off to turn those into reality. I have to be allowed to screw up along the way. I’m not very good at that. Too often, I’m playing life like it’s the last ten minutes of a soccer match and we’re down one goal. Win or lose, I have to let that match finish and prepare for the next.
Don’t ever think I’m “moving on.” Mary fundamentally changed me for the better, but she didn’t set me in stone. I’m carrying on, not only because I’m English, but because I intend to carry all the lessons and love of my life forward into the next chapter.
God bless,
Jason