This year, I chose metabolization as my word for the year. It’s based on this quote from Inciting Joy by Ross Gay:
Grief is the metabolization of change — Inciting Joy, Ross Gay, 218, 7:17
I read Inciting Joy at the end of last year because I wanted to read a book about joy. Obviously, right?
In its pages and hours of audio, I found much joy (in flower beds and trips to Sabrina’s) but also many lessons about joy that come from darker moments (death and grief).
Grief occupies the pages of Inciting Joy in ways I did not expect.
At almost 2 hours (and 54 pages), the chapter “Grief Suite, Falling Apart: The 13th Incitement” is the longest and penultimate chapter in a book about joy. This chapter is beautiful and moving and filled with sorrow. In it, Gay meditates on and mediates what masculinity and gender mean for him as a Black man, specifically in the context of a scholarship football player.
I appreciate perspectives such as Gay’s because they provide an important antidote to toxic positivity and toxic masculinity, which tend to diminish and bury negative emotions like sorrow, anger, and, of course, grief.
While I do not share Gay’s specific context, I connect to his text nevertheless. As a griever.
Falling apart
Grief hit me hard this past week. Unexpected and sideways as it always does. Like Gay, I have never been great with grief. I feel Americans are uniquely bad at this universal experience.
Everyone grieves. But we Americans seem to stuff emotions deeper into our collective hall closets than any other culture. And then, we’re surprised when we open the door, and a coat heavy with memory tumbles out.
That coat hit me in the face last Monday.
First came the anxiety.
You see, I started going to pelvic floor therapy about a month ago. My therapist is amazing, gentle, and kind. She places consent at the forefront of our sessions. But even the gentlest approach can dredge up past trauma.
We had a great session this past week, but as I left the office, I felt anxious.
I went into my typical Monday meetings anxious. I even vocalized this feeling, but still it remained.
Tuesday was the same. I tried different techniques. Breathing. Time away from my phone. Self care. Walking. Reading. Nothing worked.
I started Wednesday with my regular therapy session. Finally, it all began to click into place. My anxiety was grounded in grief. An old pain still too raw to write about here.
I took the day off and scheduled my Covid and flu boosters. That did not go as planned, but my anxiety gradually was beginning to wane.
When I got home, I gave myself permission to feel my grief.
Thursday, my kitchen needed cleaning. That did not happen, but at least the anxiety had subsided.
Friday, I finally got my boosters. My anxiety returned due to a long wait at the pharmacy, but I managed it. Mostly. Walking in the crisp air helped.
When I got home, I took a virtual yoga class through a Discord server I belong to.
Finally, I am starting to connect to community in a way I have not in years.
As they often do in yoga practice, emotions brimmed to the surface. I opened myself up and gave myself permission to feel.
Afterward, Peanut wanted to cuddle close. I fell asleep, unsure if the vaccines or the emotional release caused it.
Inciting my joy
The yoga class and this blog are my joys this week. Neither would be possible without grief. Both were sweeter because of it.
Finding your joy
I highly recommend you check out Inciting Joy from your local library, where it’s available now in ebook and audiobook from Libby. At least in Philly.