On endings

Grief, personal power, and acceptance as the antidote to oppression

Hello, again. It’s been three months since you last read my words. Sorry for my absence—I was busy learning (and re-learning) some lessons about what it means to overextend myself. I was busy staying afloat.

I am here to recommit to this little project, this humble home for my thoughts on making art and being sick, after this time away to reflect on endings. Aren’t we all thinking of endings these days? It’s the end of the year—a very difficult, painful one at that. The entire world is grieving, witnessing the Palestinian genocide in real time. We are still in the midst of a pandemic, though most of us are in denial at this point. On a more personal level, it’s been a year of perpetually being in the process of “finishing” my novel, which has been a mind fuck. Beginnings and endings and beginnings and endings. But what does it mean to end something? What does it mean to finish something? Are they the same? What is finishing, anyway? Can anything ever truly end or be finished?

Finishing is a myth from where I’m standing. The idea that anything can ever end, ever truly be done, stopped existing for me when I became chronically ill. In 2018, when I was diagnosed with an incurable disease (Rheumatoid Arthritis), I made my way through every stage of grief. The “last” stage is supposedly acceptance, and it’s taken me years to finally accept that I will always be sick.

With that acceptance comes a whole new path to learning exactly what that means for me. I still make mistakes. I still make decisions based on an able-bodied version of myself—that able-bodied person’s energy. I am still learning how to truly take care of myself. I’m still figuring out what my body needs, what it doesn’t need. I’m still learning how to share this all with my friends, my family. Right now, especially, I’m focused on shifting away from victimizing myself and moving towards taking ownership over my choices, my recovery. This is partly why I’ve chosen to move back to northern Michigan. Closer to nature. I’m trying to make decisions that will support my body, rather than deplete it.

this cheesy graphic is actually very accurate lol

Back to endings. How can we reframe this concept to be more realistic? More in tune with my experience, and probably your experience, too. Here’s what I propose: what if an ending was merely achieving a state of acceptance, similar to the “last” stage of grief?

To me, this shift brings about a softness, a hopefulness to the whole concept. It also makes room for complexity, for nuance. It gives you your power back while also making space for the idea that endings are arbitrary—they don’t really exist.

As an artist, you have the power to decide when your piece is finished simply by recognizing the moment you can accept its existence in the world, separated from you and your own two hands. When I was getting my MFA, one of my mentors said that a book is done when you feel comfortable letting it go, letting it exist in the world. A song is finished when you accept that other people will hear it and you can’t change the lyrics or the chords or the tempo anymore. A piece of pottery is finished when you accept that this is the shape that it will remain.

Acceptance is better than an ending. It is the anti-ending. My illness will never end, but I can start living in acceptance. Acceptance isn’t giving up. It’s freeing yourself of the shackles of expectation, and what is expectation but a form of oppression? Acceptance, as I said before, gives you your power back. In light of the most recent devastation in Gaza, I want to be very clear that I am not suggesting that we merely accept what is happening, that we simply accept the genocide happening before our eyes. What I’m saying is that acceptance is the antidote to oppression. Acceptance is keeping your eyes open. Acceptance is taking accountability for your actions. For recognizing that your personal accountability is powerful, and can be used for good. Accepting is giving yourself the space to grieve, and then using that grief to fuel your activism.

I have lived in the frozen, helpless, denial state for a lot of my life. It’s a place of privilege, the victim state. The why me state. The there’s nothing I can do state. Acceptance is the first step towards making a difference in this world. Accept that this hellscape is reality. Accept it, and then do what you can to change it. This is your one shot at life. Do something. Let your art go—let it grow wings and take off into the world. Let it inspire people who are living in despair. Let it bring comfort, joy and hope to those who are afraid. Speak up against oppression. Commit yourself to learning, to fighting, to spending your money in support of the oppressed.

Let 2024 be the year we wake up and accept ourselves, our circumstances, and do everything we can to live our lives without passivity.

Let 2024 be a year of shifting away from the all-or-nothing mindset that is finishing, that is ending. 2023 may be ending, but that’s just a construct. It’s one long life we’re living. Nothing is ending. Everyday is a new beginning.

from be here now by ram dass <3