The Creativity of Sadness

As fate would have it, the same day as my "the bad times are behind us!" anniversary post, my husband was laid off. This was his first full-time teaching job after getting his licensure, and we hoped he would be there long-term ~ it was close, paid pretty well, and he was finally getting into the swing of things. Plus, we were planning to invest in a new home this summer. After years of struggle and uncertainty, we finally thought things were calming down and we could move forward on all the plans we'd put on hold. But fate has not finished with us, it seems. Apparently the universe keeps thinking "hmmm...they are STILL not toughened up enough yet! Let's keep messing with these folks."

Certainly, we aren't the only people experiencing tough times now, and luckily we're not in danger of losing our home or in financial straights...we really did make hay while the sun shone, so we have a nice safety net for the time being. But the "thwarted hopes and dreams" quality of this loss is really slapping us around and making life seem, well, for lack of a better word: mean. And being this sad when it's spring and birds are busy and lilacs are about to bloom...well, that makes the whole situation even more taunting.

But, hell, I'm a writer. And it occurred to me that, hey! The novel I'm writing is about "thwarted hopes and dreams," and how a major loss can end up putting someone on a better path in the long run. It's about struggling with "should have beens" as opposed to realities. It's about grief, madness, and fears so deep they're supernatural. I mean...yeah, things really suck right now, but holy moly am I in the right place to start tearing through the novel revisions. What better time could there be to dig into my ghost story. So this coming weekend, instead of feeling sorry for myself and walking around crying and eating nothing but toast, I'm going to put all that foul energy into Haunted People and make it come alive like never before. There are advantages right now to being in the middle of final revisions to a gothic novel, and I better make use of my melodramatic mood before things start getting all happy again.

Silverware Anniversary

Apparently the modern 5th anniversary gift is silverware. So Dave and I went out to dinner and USED silverware to, you know, eat our fancy food. Because who buys each other silverware for an anniversary? Although...in the midst of my mocking I realize that we could use a nice set of casual flatware. And I wouldn't turn down a silver tea set.

Anyway, Dave and I celebrated our 5th anniversary on May 1. So I want to ignore novel-writing updates for the moment and devote a few words to this anniversary. Life has been far from easy for us over these five years. Probably more difficult than either Dave or I have ever admitted to each other, in our efforts to protect each other from our darkest feelings and fears. Marriage for us did not initiate the typical future of a nice home, children, or even a comforting ritual of domesticity. The first 5 years of our marriage have been typified by flux and struggle, but also a brilliant awakening to what marriage really is.

In that way, I think the first five years of our marriage changed who we are. And it is that I celebrate on our anniversary, and it's for that I thank Dave. My idea of marriage has grown from a pretty thing to celebrate with gifts and flowers and simple words of love, to something boundless, bold, alive, and selfless in ways previously unimaginable. As we look toward the next five years I pause to appreciate the many blessings of the first five, when the bond of our marriage was forged to such strength and "love" stood to its full -- astounding -- height. I am so damn happy.

So happy anniversary, Dave. Like the little comic book I made for you concludes, "I'm more in love with you than ever."