Things That Are Non-Linear: Gas Prices, Growth, Grudges, and Grief

... just a reminder that we're all on a topsy-turvy road

Pssst … Listen to this Substack instead of reading it.

Last night was hard. The grief from losing Birdie was profound — the worst it has been since she died in late October.

Obviously, that wasn’t that long ago, and there is no real surprise in the fact that I’m still feeling it; in some way, I know I always will be.

She was a soulmate. And as the days become snowier, the stark change of season is a tangible reminder of the passing of time and space, time and space Birdie no longer inhabits.

What set me off was a lick to the ear by sweet Murray, our most recent rascally rescue, who is wearing me out and making my heart bigger by the moment.

We believe Birdie — who was more than 15 — died from a brain aneurysm, which is uncommon for dogs. The day everything went awry, I was holding her as she was getting blood drawn, something that was always super stressful for our darling girl.

When I think about the last time she was herself, it was that moment — which is just before when I believe she threw a clot.

Getting more granular about it, the last moment I felt Birdie be Birdie was when she licked my ear as I was holding her.

So last night, when Murray did the same thing, it undid me — out of absolutely nowhere.

I started to think that maybe when Birdie licked my ear, she was somehow saying goodbye. After that, she was vacant. Two days later, she was dead.

When I posted about losing Birdie, a friend of mine who had also recently lost an animal with no warning said to me: “It’s so much worse for us, but I hope you can take heart soon — that it is better for them.” (Thanks, Rachel M.)

I completely agree with her. I’ve been there, with the long, drawn-out death, and it’s not for the faint of heart. Plus, watching a loved one go through a slow decline is shattering. So although I still have PTSD from Birdie’s sudden passing, I’m grateful it was quick.

But, boy, do I miss her.

When I sit down to write Jasmin’s Jargon, I rarely know what I’m going to write about until the moment I open the backend of Substack. (Though, to give credit where credit is due, my brilliant wife Moore oftentimes gives me incredible ideas that I run with.)

Today, I thought I might write about how to decide on the boundaries you’re setting (as opposed to how to stick with those boundaries once they’re set). Great topic (and one Moore suggested), especially since I am currently going through a bit of an adjustment in terms of workflow balance. So I’ll get back to you on that (as soon as I figure it out, if not sooner).

Instead of writing about boundaries, I want to write about being human — which is very much how I’m feeling these days.

Human as in I fell asleep while hanging out with friends on Sunday night, and then again on Monday afternoon. Literally while hanging out.

Human as in I make mistakes, and I’m regularly learning how to let go of the frustration I feel each time I do.

Human as in I can be a bit much sometimes — bringing other people I’m close to along with me as I try to get too much done in too short a time — and I’d like to be more self-sufficient in those moments.

Human as in I have a growing mountain of recycling that I have to take outside, but I keep not doing it for reasons that are legitimate (wind chill makes it feel like 8 degrees Fahrenheit)… but it still needs to be done.

And human as in I grieve, non-linearly and powerfully.

Sometimes, the grief holds all the other griefs and losses from my past: my gregarious grandmother and my soft-spoken step-father, both of whom (along with my mom) were saddled with the not-so-easy job of raising me. (If you think I’m a lot now …)

And so I’m here to remind you (well, really, me) that grief in all its forms and mysterious timelines is completely okay.

One memo I missed when I was a kid (aside from the possibility that one can consume too many Bette Midler VHS tapes in one sitting) is that … life is hard, and sometimes that’s the long and short of it.

Let me be clear: I knew life was hard. I knew that from toddlerhood, before I had conscious memory.

But what I didn’t ever truly get was that there’s not always a way around it; we generally just have to go through it.

“It’s not fair!” was a sentence I uttered over and over again as a kid and teen, mostly related, I’m sure, to something my older brother did to piss me off.

I wanted justice. I wanted someone to say or do something that would make it okay, that would remove the discomfort.

My relentless seeking of fairness was something that stuck with me in college and in my young adulthood, which, perhaps not coincidentally, were the times in my life I was the most depressed.

Looking back, I realize I was side-stepping the pain of existing — or at least, attempting to side-step it. I was waiting for things to be fair.

But that never really came. Because sometimes, things just aren’t fucking fair.

Like when your brother steals your Twix bar and lies about it, introducing the concept of “gaslighting” to you when you’re only five. Like when you’re an alternate for the prestigious Governor’s School of the Arts, but you never get called in.

Like when your soulmate doggie dies unexpectedly, and that moment they licked your ear while you were holding them becomes so much more meaningful and profound in retrospect. My Birdie. My sweet Birdie.

It just sucks. That’s just the way it is.

Dear Little Jasmin,

Life sometimes sucks. You will get through it.

Love,

Big Jasmin

All of this is to say that being human is a lot of things. Painful is one of them. Messy is one of them.

Beautiful is one of them.

And, sometimes, messy and beautiful are one in the same.

Birdie, I miss you. I grieve for you. I think of you. I long for you. I love you.

Non-linearly, all those things. Non-linearly, I grieve, I grow, I get through it.

We all do. Even when it isn’t fair. Even when it sucks and no one can really say anything to make it better.

That moment will pass. And then it will come again, in a different form.

And you will be okay. And so will I.

xo,

jazz

P.S. Don’t miss my latest piece for WXXI: “Egg prices are skyrocketing, and egg companies are making record profits. What gives?”

P.P.S. Here is a random photo of Murray being his silly self.