Tag: grief

Dedicated to someone

A year ago today, you told me that you loved me, and I said the same. I was surprised that I was brave enough to admit it aloud to you and myself.

Now, you haven’t talked to me in several months, and denied me any access to reaching out. I was very depressed and confused about this at first, but I think I understand now. My love is very intense, as is my trust and reliance in you. It can be very intimidating and overwhelming. You cherish it sometimes, but other times it is too much for you to bear. You don’t have all the answers, you can’t mend the source of my upset into a tidy, compact package of resolution, and neither could I with your problems. But I admitted it. You sometimes get tongue-tied and feel neglected, but aren’t honest enough to admit when I intimidate you. I wish you could, and you worked on it for a while, but it seems you’ve given up once more. At least as it relates to me. I hope you can develop the decency to be transparent in all your other relationships.

The distance is also a pain. I’m sorry for seeking your captivation at unusual hours when you are unwilling to entertain my banter. Again, please tell me when you are uninterested in talking. I would understand.

I hope we meet again one day and are able to talk cordially and kindly like we used to. I know you want me to forget you and move on, but I still love you. But I recognize the burden my love may bring. I know it’s a lot to process, but please know that I don’t say it to pressure you into confronting it now. I just say it out of my heart. You, of course, are still unsure. You don’t seem to know where exactly you want to reside, what exactly you want your career to be, or how exactly you want to care for your emotional wellbeing. Please take some time to discover yourself. I love you always. Good luck and God bless you. Happy new year.

Comments on “Head Above Water”

I appreciate the thought, but I dislike the subject matter because it appropriates casualties of aquatic accidents. Drowning is an actual thing that happens, Avril. It’s not some beautiful metaphor for Lyme disease. I thought I’d buy the album and just skip over Head Above Water until the memory of my uncle’s demise isn’t as fresh, but now that you named the album after that song I really don’t feel like purchasing it at all. I’m a very big fan. I’m glad you got healthy and found God again, but the pain is just too much. I know you don’t know me and consulting for my opinion isn’t on your list of priorities, but I need to let this out.

I understand the meaning, but I think it’s unfair. Why must [Avril] have a miraculous recovery and no one among my family and friends can? Words have power. I wish the world were more mindful of their speech. I don’t care that it’s a metaphor. I’m tired of people thinking drowning is some glamorous, biblical way to die. I can’t move on because I can’t believe in afterlife anymore. Yes, Lyme disease isn’t as poetic for a song. Local news eats up drowning stories every summer and it’s sick. I’m glad she had her miracle, but my loved ones and i will never have ours. That’s all I’m trying to say. I wish the world wouldn’t just excuse hyperbolic language because it’s artistic or a biblical allusion.

I may buy the album eons from now when the sting isn’t too fresh, but it hits too painful a spot with me right now.

What is your problem? Of course I understand. I simply wish others would be more mindful of the metaphors they use and how they can affect others. I watched all the interviews. I haven’t experienced Lyme disease, but she hasn’t experience nearly drowning. Everyone wants to excuse it because it’s an artful metaphor, but language can hit you in a tender place. I just want people to know that for me, it has. It was a miracle that she finally found a diagnosis, treatment, and lived. Drowning is such a quicker sensation. This nurse attempted to save him but was useless. Avril had time to live between each doctor’s appointment. I dislike artists trying equate one disaster to another when they’re nothing alike. You can tell me it’s art and I don’t get it or care, but I do, and this is just a very sore spot for me. You may wish me Lyme disease, but I will never wish a drowning incident on any of your loved ones.

I used to feel the same way. I thought triggers were something that people just said for attention and argument. Then when something disasterous happens and people use that phrase hyperbolicly and metaphorically, it gets to you. I never thought it did, but it really does. Sorry I’m so tender. Hell, maybe I’m a special snowflake for it. But so be it. Part of me does like the song, but it really makes me feel uneasy. It’s alright for everyone else to enjoy it, but it’s hard for me to feel the same. I wish others just had a bit more consideration in their words, that’s all I’m trying to say.

Note: These are a few comments I left on one of Avril Lavigne’s Facebook posts. I doubt she’ll ever see or listen to my pain, but Facebook is the most direct way to reach celebrities these days. I’ve strung them together in a quasi-essay. I got countless negative feedback, as fan pages seem to be for praise and only praise, but I feel too strongly about this to delete anything. Hopefully WordPress is a bit more thoughtful and has empathy and validation.  That’s all I ask. Don’t coddle me nor discipline me. This is just grief.