28 Ways to Optimize Your Sadness & Cry Whenever You Want
More writings from the pandemic...
Hello, dear humans,
I hope your Summer Solstice was bright and beautiful. For my Solstice, I flew to my hometown of Rochester, NY, where I’ll be for the long-weekend, visiting friends I haven’t seen in 9+ years. It’s pretty wild: meeting their partners and kids who I’ve only seen on Christmas cards and social media; driving down the streets I used to live on; seeing the high school I graduated from and loved so much… I also think there’s something about being pregnant and thinking about raising a family that makes me feel a little extra tender-hearted when I think about my youth. Maybe I’ll write about it someday…
This week, I wanted to share another piece from The COVID Archives: “28 Ways to Optimize Your Sadness & Cry Whenever You Want.” This was the second piece I wrote after deciding to stop giving a shit what anyone thought of my writing, and just write! (“Getting Back Out There” was the first.) Incidentally, it was these two pieces that my writing group said were my best yet… Funny how that works, isn’t it? I hope you enjoy it! (Even though I know I just said I didn’t care! ;))
Love,
Abby
P.S. If you’re on this email list mostly for the yoga updates, here ya go:
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Okay, happy reading… :)
28 Ways to Optimize Your Sadness & Cry Whenever You Want
Sit on the toilet, face in hands, pants at your ankles. Or, if that’s not accessible to you, at least pull your car over to the side of the road.
Put on music. Be sure to choose a song that has some kind of instrument that reminds you of your heartbeat, something you can really feel in your chest.
Think about how alone you are, right now. How, if you were to wail, no one would hear you, how, if you were to swear, no one would scold you, and how utterly freeing that is! Freeing, that is, until you realize that all you want is for someone to be there and hold you, without judgment, while you wail and swear and weep.
Watch the documentary about the last season of Schitt’s Creek, and think about everything beautiful in your life that has come to an end. Let yourself feel the both-and: Yes, you know the show had to end, and at least it ended on its own terms, not to mention, it ended perfectly, but you still really didn’t want it to because there was just so much life in it yet, plus, it was one of the only things that could reliably bring you joy when you needed it most! This really sucks for you. And, is it also so beautiful.
Look at your dog while she’s sleeping. Notice how small her snout is, how sweet her sighs, and how her velvet belly rises and falls with each breath. Maybe even reach out and hold her little paw in your big, human hand, and marvel at how you can love a little being, so much. Now, imagine that she’s really old and frail and has some incurable disease and that she’s going to die soon. She’s not old yet, but in a few years, she will be, and you know how fast time seems to go these days.
Look at a tiny baby. Really look at her - those hands! The tiny finger nails, the wrinkled fingers, the dimpled knuckles, and those FEET! Take the time to squeeze her little feet, touch her hair, gently, and then lovingly smell the top of her head. Then, imagine that in a few years, one of this baby’s parents will die tragically. She will still be a kid, and she will be sad and everyone around her will be sad for her, until later in life, when any new friends she makes won’t have any idea about her father’s premature death, and the kid, who is now a woman, will have to explain that yes, it was almost 20 years ago now, but yes, she still misses him every day, and no, she can’t explain how it feels to lose a parent, but she wishes she could, because right now, she wants nothing more than to be understood, or at least, fucking held.
Really feel the weight of your head in your hands.
Imagine that your one living parent was just diagnosed with terminal cancer. Imagine that you’ll have to care for them for the next three or four or maybe twelve years, during which time they will decline, slowly. You will have to feed them, perform CPR when they choke on their oatmeal, bathe them, and probably change their diapers. They will be your infant baby that you so desperately wanted but never had. Except instead of an actual infant who would have grown up to be strong and tall and beautiful and interesting, she is an old prune who was once strong and tall and beautiful and interesting and is now, instead, going backwards. Instead of a tiny little raisin-baby, you are now in charge of a 120-lb once-beautiful prune - a prune like the ones you’ll feed her to help her poop. The same poop, incidentally, that you’ll have to clean up as you simultaneously celebrate the fact that she finally pooped! and also cry because this is your mom we’re talking about, and remember when she was the one who cleaned up your poop? Isn’t that how it should be? Just the cycle of life, man, cycle of life…
With your head still in your hands, or your car still pulled to the side of the road, think about the fact that, not only are you now too old to sell your eggs, but you are almost too old to even freeze your eggs - really think about that! In another year and a half, they won’t even let you take out your own body part, set it aside and say, “Hey, I might want this later, so please keep it safe!” They’ll be like, “Unfortunately, we can’t do that for you, but why don’t you try natural conception? You probably have a couple more years left for that, though of course the risk of birth defects is much higher now, but if you really want a baby…”
Contemplate having a baby born with one arm, or no arms, or maybe even no legs! Think about how fiercely you would love that baby, and how quickly you would beat the shit out of anyone who dared make fun of her, or offer you their sympathies, or tell you that “You are so brave! Such an inspiration!” No, you would not be an inspiration for loving your fucking child, that is just what a parent does! Take a moment to feel as your heart beats just a little bit faster, and a little bit shakier.
Watch The Muppet Christmas Carol. It’s been so long since you’ve seen it!
Spend some time journaling with the word “unfair.”
Find another baby. Look at her: the hands, the feet - yes, you’ve seen baby hands and feet before but they get you every time, as long as you are not in a rush and really take the time to see. Notice how perfect she is, how healthy, how full of promise. She is beautiful, and she smells like a pancake, somehow. Now, imagine that in a few years, just as she starts to enter puberty, she will develop a condition where her spine takes on the shape of a question mark and no one will know why. Everyone will have theories, and she will try many treatments, but she will eventually be sliced open, her body, reconfigured. The worst part is that she will never be able to relax again, not really, because sitting will not be comfortable, and so she will spend her life moving, like a shark, or maybe an electron. She will learn to endure it, and she will be called “strong” and even “inspiring!” but the sadness will remain - the kind of sadness that she will feel guilty talking about because, as she has learned, “It could be so much worse!” So she will spend much of her life repressing, deferring to those with more pain, and she will cry only in secret, which is the saddest way to cry. See again how perfect this baby is, how oblivious to her future. Kiss her tiny, translucent eyelids and remember that one day, she will be told that her body is just one big question mark.
As you watch The Muppet Christmas Carol, take note of every time you hear Kermit speak. Remind yourself that this was the first movie they made after Jim Henson died, and that whoever is voicing Kermit is trying their best, and my god, what a job! Remind yourself that Jim Henson was 53 when he died, three years younger than your dad was, and three years older than your sister is now.
Watch a three-legged dog hop around the dog park, so present, so happy.
Take a yoga class. While everyone else is in savasana, stare at the ceiling and ask yourself why you cannot be like everyone else in the room and just FUCKING RELAX ALREADY. This may not make you cry in the moment, but it will really get the wheels churning so that, by the time class is over and you’re at New Seasons just trying to decide on a snack, you’ll remember that of course you’re stressed because you have been living with an immobilized spine for the last 20 years, and you actually, literally cannot remember what it feels like to slouch, or to relax your body at all! On top of this, you are alone, and have no one to hold you. This is when the tears will come, and it will be good because what better time to try to hold in your tears than while you’re looking at kale salads to-go?! A few tears will leak out, and you’ll decide to go to the bathroom, only to realize that by the time you get there, you don’t have to cry anymore, so you go back to the kale to try again, just to feel something, but you realize the moment is gone. So you just get the bulgar wheat salad instead because it has cranberries, which remind you of your dad for some reason, check out, and then on your way home is when that song comes on that always makes you cry, and now is when the floodgates really open up. You need to pull over, because you cannot see, and you do, because you are not drunk, you are just incredibly sad. You feel this acutely as your chest collapses in on you and you cannot help but curl your knees toward your chest, like that yoga pose, you think it’s called “knees-to-chest,” or maybe “child’s pose,” or possibly “happy baby” - wouldn’t that be ironic!
Listen as it starts to rain.
Don’t go grocery shopping for several weeks. Get your cupboards down to as bare as they’ve ever been, and then open and close each cupboard several times. Go to the fridge and open and close it several times, pausing in between, for effect. Look around your apartment. Really see the piles of mail, the camping gear that you haven’t used, that you refuse to use until you have someone to go with you, and not just your two married friends who always invite you along, and you know they mean it because they love you and you love them, but you always decline because seeing happy couples reminds you how alone you are, plus, how will you ever meet the man of your dreams if you’re always out camping in the sticks with your married friends?! Once you’ve taken stock of the empty cupboards, the piles of paper, and the camping gear you’ve been trying to ignore, look again in the fridge. Select the Costco-size jar of olives that your sister gave you for your birthday and try to twist off the lid. When you can’t, notice how enraged you immediately become, then how quickly that rage dissipates as tears start to flow. Now you’ve really done it. Nice work!
Rewatch The Muppet Christmas Carol.
Observe your dog again as she sleeps next to you, her tiny snout resting lovingly on your thigh. Let yourself feel her big breaths as they stretch the tiny rib cage underneath your hands. Remember: She will die, one day.
Spend some time meditating on the word “alone.”
Go to the grocery store, finally. Make sure you’ve only brought two of your reusable bags, even though it would have been so easy to bring more, but you didn’t because you were confident that you could do it with just two, plus you didn’t want to over-shop because how much food can one person possibly eat before it goes bad and you don’t want another repeat of the grape tomato situation! Now, be sure to over-shop. Get as many heavy things as possible. Include one of those giant metal tanks of olive oil, and also the big-boy laundry detergent. Make sure you purchase enough that you’ll need at least one grocery-store issued paper bag for the spill-over, because the two reusable bags were obviously not enough, and you should know this by now! When you get home, park at least one full block away, because that is the only parking available, and your dumb apartment building doesn’t have a garage anyway - not that you’d pay for it if it did, but you’d at least like to have the option! Contemplate asking help from a stranger, then decide against it, because there aren’t any strangers in sight. Begin the march back to your building, and observe as the paper bag rips, releasing your bag of quinoa, which has also ripped, onto the muddy ground. Remind yourself that you splurged on the organic quinoa this time, and that this is not only a waste of good food, but also a waste of money. Continue looking at the pile of quinoa until you realize that no, it is not worth trying to pick it up carefully and just giving it a good rinse. Really see the mud pushing up between the tiny seeds, like plants, but in reverse. Remind yourself that this would be so much easier if you just had someone to help you carry these fucking bags.
Re-watch the last episode of The Good Place. Wait for the Spiegel im Spiegel part when Chidi has made his decision and there’s nothing Eleanor can do to stop him, and, what’s more, she knows she should not try. Remind yourself that this is what true love is: letting someone die even when you know you must go on living.
Hold your mug of peppermint tea with both hands as you gaze at the candle flame, the candle that you lit just for yourself, for ambiance. Feel your sternum shutter as your heart beats underneath. Remind yourself how quickly time passes.
Think back to your last breakup, which was almost five years ago now. Take a moment to realize that if you’d decided to just go to the sperm bank immediately after the breakup, you might have a kid who was almost four by now. Your life would be so different, of course, but at least you wouldn’t be wondering if you would ever have a child, or if you should just waste another few years to see if you’ll meet someone so you can have kids “the natural way,” and also a partner to raise them with.
Lay belly-down on your yoga bolster. When your tiny dog comes over to stand on your back and lick your cheeks, adjust your position so that you can hug her with both arms while she enjoys licking not only your cheeks, but also your nose and your eyes, which, by now are quite salty, which is exactly how she likes it! Really feel the wet of her tongue, and the frantic, desperate love behind it, as if she is saying, “MOM IT’S OKAY I’M HERE FOR YOU!” Remember that at least she will never leave you, until she dies, which she will, in about twelve years, tops.
Think about your mom. Envision her face, more wrinkled than you want to admit, and her eyes, so loving. Envision her hands, strong from years of playing piano. Imagine holding her hands for the last time as she dies. Remind yourself that this is the best case scenario, because it would be so much worse to not be there while she dies, and even worse if you died before her - the woman has already lost her father, her mother, her husband, and her brother! Yes, this is the best case scenario, so why does it feel so sad to imagine holding her hands as she dies, peacefully, probably simply due to old age? Remind yourself that this is exactly what you came here to do. Hang in there, you’re doing great!
Close your eyes and imagine a beach. It could be any beach, but the first beach that comes to mind is the one in Manzanita where you threw your friend’s ashes into the sea from atop a cliff. It was more coast than beach, if we’re being technical, but it’s the first thing that came to your head, so let’s not judge it! Keep your eyes closed and see what comes up next. Again, it could be any beach, but the second thing that comes to mind is the ocean in Yelapa, Mexico. Again, not a beach, but we’re going to go with it. Of course, you’re thinking of this spot because that’s where you threw your father’s ashes into the sea from a boat, after you saw a whale. It would have made more sense to release his ashes from somewhere you had gone together, maybe, but you didn’t, and, come to think of it, maybe this was actually the perfect spot, because there you were, living your best life, surrounded by friends and people who loved you, and all of a sudden, up pops this whale and her baby! Who are you kidding, your dad would have loved this place and it was perfect! Way to go! Now, stick with the whales a bit longer. Really take in the strong, proud mama: her arched back, the blue-grey of her hide, that giant fucking blow-hole! There she is, out and about, just trying to show her baby the world. Feel the mist on your face as the boat rocks and heaves. Remember how the tour-guide told you, “Mama is teaching how to swim!” and how this fact alone made you want to weep! Picture the baby again. Really look at her: her slick, gnarled skin, her white underbelly, those little flippers, that tail that she flops and slaps the water with when she’s excited. And if that’s not cute enough, look now as she copies her mommy and jumps up andspins! You had no idea baby whales could do that! Yes, this is exactly the right time, you think, and just as the baby lands, you reach into your bag to pull out the film canister that your sister has packed your father in. It has to happen fast, you think, because the timing is just right, and so you release the top and fling your father over the side of the boat. Most of him makes it into the water, you assume, but your one friend who saw you do it clutches her chest and gasps. You see her pointing to the girl behind you, the only one who got seasick, and together you observe that pieces of your father have settled on her sunburnt shoulders as she sways, unwittingly, with her head between her legs. This is hilarious, you think as you start to weep, and you are so glad your friend saw it, too - all of it: the mama whale, the baby learning, the dust of your father, and the last prank your father will ever play.
