Several years ago, whilst still living in New York, I put my apartment up on Airbnb. It was a bit of an arduous process, but I eventually got the hang of it.
Some of my first Airbnb guests were a couple named Martha and Sheldon. They were from Iowa and wanted to bring their granddaughter to New York for the very first time. We corresponded briefly; I provided all the details necessary for their stay and then traipsed along my merry way, hoping and praying everything would run smoothly.
Indeed, it did. They had a wonderful time. I breathed a sigh of relief since I needed those first good reviews in order to keep my “business” up and running. I managed to, well, manage that aspect of my life successfully (and keep things under wraps since technically I wasn’t supposed to sublet my apartment).
Most guests would come and go without incident; I only really communicated with them over the Airbnb platform. But Martha and Sheldon were different. We kept in touch over the years. They followed me on Instagram and supported me generously when I was raising money for my record. And, in 2016, when I went on tour with Brian Setzer, I got them tickets to see the show. They took me out to dinner beforehand. We laughed and hugged; this was technically the first time I had really met them in person!
In 2019, Sheldon unexpectedly passed away in his sleep. Martha was understandably devastated. I grieved, too – this couple had become such a joy and blessing in my life.
I continued to correspond with Martha throughout that time. She opened up to me with poems she had written; she wrote about her grief in losing Sheldon – the love of her life whom she had married at the age of 50. And, at the end of every email, she signed off with, You are loved and valued.
*****
I’m enduring a lot this holiday season. Sparing details, (who, me?!) I lost my full-time teaching job back in July due to bureaucracy, red tape, and the stubbornness of a school district to see any value in me. A couple of weeks before my birthday, my beloved boyfriend of 15 months decided it was time to end our relationship — for the third time — because of his fear of having anything remotely good in his life (my commentary). I told him after his second attempt to run away that if he pulled that horse shit on me a third time, I wouldn’t be saddling up again.
And he inevitably did run. I hate the fact I knew he would. Fear is a beast. Still, I wasn’t ready to let go, but when he unabashedly bragged to me that he was seeing someone else — a married woman, nonetheless — that was an absolutely crystal, Claritin-clear sign from heaven and hell and all the levels of Dante’s Inferno in between that I needed to let him go.
Motherfuckery.
The breakup is still fresh and my feelings are raw and unhinged. I vacillate between raging anger and harrowing sorrow; aching loneliness and tiny deposits of joy. I’ve been here so many times before. My head knows from (now years of) experience that I can get through it and move on, but when the sun slips away at 4:30 pm, my heart hangs so low that I sometimes clutch at my chest and/or knees to ensure it is still there.
My Instagram feed is made up almost entirely of self-help advice on grief, breakups, and ways to choose myself again. In turn, they are accompanied by ads about perimenopause, prayer apps, lingerie (rub it in, why don’t you?!) and whatever the newest knockoff of Ozempic is. The only joy I find on social media are heartwarming stories about animal rescues, random dance videos, grammar mistakes, and the archaic stuff my dad sends me (which he emails, instead of DM’s. Ha).
I’m quite positive I have exhausted all of my friends, talking about the same shit, over and over. Yet, they still listen and allow me to process. Grief takes time. Grief takes no prisoners. Grief sneaks up on you while you’re standing in the meat aisle at the grocery store, staring at the row of chicken legs (they’re cheapest), trying to ascertain the best selection. After all, you’re cooking for one again, and you haven’t much of an appetite, anyway.
Years ago, I wrote this about grief:
“And the grief. Oh, the fucking grief. It is an unexpected, rude and sometimes cruel visitor. An unwelcome one, too. A memory, song or a familiar smell triggers the wave that pulsates through your entire body, sending your heart all the way to your wobbly knees. It’s like a bowling ball that’s constantly hitting the gutter, unable to knock over any pin with precision because it was tossed with the sloppiest, most unplanned aim.”
This rings true today. What kind of makes me chuckle at myself is that I thought I wouldn’t have to go through this again. It took me five years to date after my last relationship, and that one only lasted about six months. This one was well over a year (and I stupidly thought perhaps more), but, well, here we are.
Again.
Alas.
Yet.
I am not the same person I once was. Grief is a familiar frenemy, and I am not averse to opportunities for growth and change. Why this shit — job loss, breakup, financial stress, questioning life choices and purpose, blah, blah, blah — has to happen all at once is beyond me, but it is happening.
And I’m rolling with it.
*****
Martha and I have been communicating a lot lately. She shared that she has been featured as a poetry winner in a magazine called “Synkroniciti”. She feels as if she’s getting older and more feeble, but she keeps her eyes and heart open, because people need love and kindness every day.
This is what she had to say about things happening all at once:
Life does seem to hit us ALL at once!!! I could give lots of “truism” people give out as good advice but rarely take themselves. But really it is a grieving time we go through, even though it isn’t death. But, loss and suffering deepen us. It’s hard. But it does open us too. Just know that you ARE loved. You are beautiful and no one person can change that. Find time for things that bring peace and joy. Even a walk in a wooded area. Gather with friends who love you. Smile at people you see in the grocery store who look sad and lonely, say “good morning”. You just might make a difference in the sadness of their life. We never know what our kindness can do to spread a balm in this world. As people pass you on the street, they don’t know all of the difficulties you are going through. Thankfully we do go through to the other side and find Joy again. Even after losing Sheldon, and experiencing a loss deeper than I’d ever know, I am still surrounded by blessings and love that are boundless.
And she signed it,
You are loved and valued.
*****
Martha’s words, You are loved and valued have become my mantra. Any chance I get, I am repeating that phrase. I say it to the people in my circle, but I also recite it to myself over, and over, and over. I need to believe it.
We all know romantic relationships will come and go, but the obvious point here – and one that I’m trying to drive home to myself – is that we are loved and valued regardless of job and/or financial status; partnership; other people’s choices, actions and words; childhood trauma, adult trauma, trauma in general; life in general.
We are loved and valued because of who we are. Period. We are unique, wonderful creatures who have been placed on this earth for some crazy ass reason. Sure, we all have our stuff. But that doesn’t keep us from being loved. And valued. And that is enough.
We are enough.
You are enough.
You are absolutely, unequivocally loved and valued.
The Christian Girl's Guide to Divorce 