Back to the Light (APW Scholarship Submission)

I like to be a person who feels things so deeply in such a heavy world, but sometimes feeling things so deeply brings me a sense of loneliness. You see, I haven’t figured out how to tell people, “I can’t talk today, I’m busy with heavy feelings.” I used to say things like, “Sorry, I need space today because I’m having a bad day,” but that isn’t necessarily true; just because I’m feeling heavy feelings doesn’t mean it’s a bad day, it means I’m feeling the feelings in the way they demand to be felt. I don’t believe it’s as simple as ‘good days’ and ‘bad days,’ because I think the forces around us and within us demand more attention and recognition than that. If I diminish myself to dark, heavy moments and dark, heavy days, I fear I’ll lose the feeling of my skin absorbing the sun; I fear I’ll forget the importance of balancing the two.

About a week ago, I got a job, after taking a break from working for a couple of months. I’ve had a lot of moving parts in my life to figure out and address, so I gave myself a chance to breathe and I applied to a job I felt I could succeed at when I was ready. Within just a couple days of applying, I went in for an interview, which made me nervous and excited. I was nervous because I hadn’t done an interview in over a year, and I was excited to remind myself I can do anything I put myself into. I put on a nice outfit, gave myself a pep talk, and headed to the interview feeling prepared.

​About halfway there, my phone rang; an unknown number, which I would normally forward to voicemail, but I decided to answer. “Is this Elena?” said a man on the other end of the line. I confirmed it was me, and he went on to say he was calling from the cemetery to let me know the name plate for the niche where my mom’s urn is kept had been installed. We had been waiting for that phone call almost two years, I thanked him on behalf of all of us and then let the rest of my family know. I sent my dad and my brother a text with a photo of the name plate, and a second text that said, “time for my interview, I’ll have to pause thinking about this for now.” I knew it would demand to be felt, even the phone call took my breath for a moment, but I took a deep breath and I let my skin absorb the sun.

​I knew the interview went well, my best interview to-date I thought, I left feeling such a strong sense of pride in myself. In that moment I felt that the sun simply couldn’t shine any brighter, I called my dad and some friends to tell them the good news. Now, this is where I remembered it isn’t about ‘good days,’ or ‘bad days,’ because there was still grief which demanded my attention. I changed out of my interview clothes and drove to the cemetery, a seemingly grim post-interview trip for a twenty-three-year-old, but I wanted to see her name plate; I wanted to tell her about my interview. There had been a few mix-ups and delays since we ordered it, so I was happy it had finally been installed. I walked slowly, dragging my feet, overwhelmed by the feeling of finality which surely awaited just steps ahead. I lifted my eyes from the ground, I saw her name printed above the numbers, “1963-2020,” and I immediately collapsed to my knees; the wind had been knocked out of me.

​I placed my hand on the raised letters that spelled my mom’s name, feeling the ache of a million broken hearts all at once. It was warm for a sweatshirt, but I used the sleeve to muffle the piercing screams I couldn’t seem to hold back. The sun beamed on my skin, yet, I was consumed by a treacherous darkness; do you see what I mean by balance? Any passerby might have thought it to be a moment of morbid darkness, but darkness is not always synonymous with morbidity; for me it was morbidly beautiful to be balancing the weight of a million broken hearts, with the weight of absorbing the sun.

​I didn’t make any phone calls about my trip to the cemetery like I did about the interview, although equally profound to me, partly because there was nothing to be said and partly because I had lost my voice in the time I was there. I sat there in the parking lot until I felt I could breathe steadily enough to drive. At times, I’d think I was calm, only to feel another sudden bolt of paralyzing devastation; I thought, would I ever make it out of this parking lot? I quietly reflected on the balance of feelings which simultaneously consumed me; an intoxicating gratitude for the life I have where the sun shines, paired with the perilous devastation brought by the storm of grief.

​So, for me, that day wasn’t good or bad; it was heavy. I didn’t feel bad for falling apart after the interview went well, it didn‘t mean I was less happy about it, it just meant there were other feelings which also needed my attention. Many of my days seem to feel utterly exhausting, simply because I feel these things so heavily; the burden of being a vessel for magic. In my mind, if I don’t feel these things deeply, I’m not giving them the attention and recognition they deserve and demand. It’s easy to accept the presence of joy, it’s easy to stand in the sun, I find my pursuit to embrace the darkness to be much more treacherous but I also find it to teach me how to return to the world with an open heart; to welcome the heavy things. I don’t let one outweigh the other, joy and pain, because that would mean I’m listening and learning selectively; which to me, isn’t really learning at all. I don’t get to choose the lessons I’m presented with or their magnitude, and really, that’s the whole point of learning anyway. It’s my job to listen to these lessons without argument and embrace them as they are, not as I wish they were.

​Today I went on a drive, which has always been my favorite way to be alone with my heavy feelings. I stood in the sun with my arms spread as the breeze grazed my skin, goosebumps covered my arms despite the warm air and it wasn’t because of anything ‘good’ or ‘bad,’ it was because the magic of the world demands I feel it heavily. I breathed the fresh air and I remembered the great fortune which I possess, simply to be here feeling such magnificently massive feelings. Another heavy day leaves me with a heavy heart, but it leaves me with a heart that’s ready for the heaviness of tomorrow. I find the more I acknowledge and embrace the heaviness, the less it breaks me. I find when I face the storm, and let it bring its darkness, I always find my way back to the light.