Layers of Endings

The falls at Beacon. April, 2016

The falls at Beacon. April, 2016

In my life, very few shifting events—those decisive moments when life goes from This to That—unfold in a solo way, happening all by itself. I seem to get disruptions in big, broad swaths, multiple aspects of my dailyness undone at once.

Here I am, in a sea of change again.

As an avowed adrenalin addict and maker of change, I’m always quite struck how disorienting it is when multiple meaningful shifts are foisted upon me by external forces simultaneously. (This makes me smile a little bit, because maybe my personality is more balanced than I’ve assumed. I suppose in the end I am a pretty measured, if passionate, kind of pot stirrer.)

For me right now, these are quiet days. I feel the pressure of things I’ve lost behind my eyes, but I’m trying to sit quietly within myself and merely do the orderly tasks of reaching out to colleagues and friends, slowly putting myself back in the mix, letting everyone know I am once again looking for work.

Last week, I set foot in the Hearst Tower for the first time since the day I resigned from Redbook when my parents fell ill. I realized when I was in the Tower that it had been almost six years exactly, just a few days past the date I resigned.

So funny how life seems to have these logical portions of time. This happened, now it’s time for That. This cycle is done, now move onto the next. I feel that painfully right now.

In these months at home working on my book I rediscovered so much about what it is I had lost in my childhood. But while here, I also found something else that ignited me and made me feel whole.

As I say goodbye to one stage and enter another, I pause for a moment of silence.

Becoming: the work of it is never done, in ways both poignant and brutal.  And it seems I will forever be Filling In The Blanks.

 

About stacy

I am a writer, author, mother, former magazine editor (last at Redbook), optimist, and, above all, a searcher. I'm still searching for whom I'm really meant to be, after a series of very jarring losses: a divorce and house disaster that led to a book (Falling Apart In One Piece); a week after the book came out, my parents suddenly fell gravely ill, I resigned from my job (and, apparently, my career), my son went into crisis, my parents then rapidly died four weeks apart, and my boyfriend (who had moved in with me and my son just weeks before the book came out) began the painful journey of realizing we couldn't make our relationship work (that story unfolded on this blog). Since then I've been trying to figure out what's next. Or, in other words, how to fill in the blanks.
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3 Responses to Layers of Endings

  1. Rita says:

    You and me both. Too many words to even begin. Thank you for sharing your. There’s always comfort in company.

  2. Lindsey says:

    I love this. The filling in of blanks never ends, there is no end, there is only the process, the road, right now. Right? That seems to be what I’m learning, at least. xox

  3. D. A. Wolf says:

    How comforting and familiar and lonely and promising your words seem; I find myself in yet one more exploration of becoming, so sticky with both potential and complexity as to only allow the slightest inching toward one desired state, before being tugged by another and another, as the clock ticks down.

    Money, ever the most nefarious of constraints, remains the executioner with axe in hand and raised overhead — this a recognizable and recurring story for too many of us.

    I wish you well on whatever new or revisited threshold you encounter. Your eloquence and wisdom are, as always, a special gift.

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