Transitions
& the Grief Interwoven with Change
Despite being a person born in a seasonal transition, I’ve always struggled with change. Blame it on a Scorpio stellium, or Filipino stubbornness, or earth sun sign rigidness, or all of the above; but change, to me, is a beacon of discomfort.
In the last couple of years, there were (and are) multiple personal transitions: the passing of pets, needing a new car, looking for a new job, and the last leg of my Saturn Return. As I am very human, I couldn’t help but fling my hands at the skies with your typical, “why me!” and “why now!” I lie on the floor wishing things weren’t so, then pick myself up and plunk away at my computer. I set aside time to respond, to be in touch, to reassure folks that I haven’t forgotten about them (and in this way, I feel it keeps me from drowning, and I’m grateful to be buoyed by my community). All of this, with the chaotic, unpredictable nature of human emotions. I walk outside and weep at two hummingbirds dancing in the sky (that must be Lolo!) and weep at the grave markers of Kobe and Pau, two dogs that passed within a year of each other, and weep at my dad’s phone screen as he shows me the used car he thinks would be best for me. I think of my current car, my darling car, the car to whom I refer as my son, who has been with me since I was 16 now must, also, transition to Valhalla. The summer days truly are ending, I think, but then of course, I always had a flair for the dramatic.
Because the truth is, not all transitions are negative; I’m starting to learn this truth, just now, in my thirties. My dad adopted a 3 month old puppy, and I’ve been helping with her crate training. She has gorgeous, baby-doll fawn eyes, rolls and a huge belly, and a raucous desire to play rough and tumble. Yes, there have been accidents and clean-ups and schedule changes, but somehow, it’s also been a job? I shared with my partner’s mother that it feels like I’m a parent with older children in college who just had a baby: I feel rusty and clumsy (when I should know what I’m doing! I’ve done this before!) but so relieved and fulfilled when I see her darling face. I would not trade her for the Before if it means losing her.
I’m also letting myself flow with the seasons: where I was in a phase of writing a poem (or parts of a poem) everyday, I find myself reading a lot and tending to other arts. I’m drawing and painting. I’m listening to music and podcasts. I, myself, am adapting to a porous state. This allows for more time with my critical paper (the first draft being terribly overdue with its new deadline at the end of this month!) and learning how to be a beginner again. It’s okay to be bad at something! I say this to my nieces, nephews, niblings, etc. but it’s a lesson I continue to learn.
So, here’s to being human! Here’s to stumbling and asking for help, and being held and carried through the autumnal and winter seasons of our lives. I hope you have the people and practices you need to get you through. Until the sunlight of the spring!
Updates;
Where to buy my books:
You can purchase The Language of Unbreaking, my first full-length poetry collection with Sampaguita Press from Bookshop, Barnes & Noble, and Amazon.
You can purchase my chapbook, In Defense Of, from Amazon, or if you send me a screenshot of a donation of at least $5 USD to a relief fund, GoFundMe, or organization of your choice, I will mail a copy to you free (within the stolen lands of Turtle Island, or unceded lands of the United States of America).
What I’m reading:
Poeta en San Francisco by Barbara Jane Reyes
Ghost Of by Diana Khoi Nguyen
and many more!
What I’m writing:
the start of my critical paper (on to my moved deadline…I’m sorry, Rick!)
my screenplay and two scripts
What I’m listening to:
Doppelgänger by The Fall of Troy
What I’m watching:
Ouran High School Host Club