Words are funny, aren't they? My mom used to say that people are the ones who give power to words and I believe the same goes for those who hear the words. They receive it according to how they define the word.
When people ask me what FWG means, I generally ask them if they want the PG version or the real one. I'm not intentionally setting out to upset people, so I do that. How great am I?
FWG means Fucking Warrior Goddess. When I say that word I say it fiercely and I mean it fiercely. Not angrily. Not as a swear word. But fiercely. You hear it however you hear it.
Life since Chuck died is a continual decision to get up, move my body, do what needs to be done to create a life for myself, and reach out to people near and far, no matter how much I might want to just bury myself in a hole. It's a matter of living with an intensely high level of emotional pain that translates physically on most days. The way I can best describe what my body feels like is this: sharp metal ridged claws dug into my chest and tore my heart out when he died, leaving trails of membrane and blood and a gaping hole, leaving me gasping for breath, with my lungs working overtime to function. But it didn't end there. Those metal claws threw my heart on the ground and continued to mash and cut into it, shredding it more fully into a bloodied mess. Non-stop.
It's as if someone is speaking a foreign language to me when I think again that oh, yeah, he's dead. I attempt to grasp the concept but I don't comprehend the language and so I'm left puzzled, wondering what they mean. He's dead? How is that even possible? It's beyond belief.
I haven't died so I need to find a way to live and I need to have something each day to live into. Not to strive towards but to live into. And it can't be something pale and wussy. It must be unyielding and substantial and powerful. Defiant. Determined. As unrelenting as my grief. Clad in pink. (mostly). Not a stupid pink, as I've explained to some, but a strong pink that beats as fiercely as the blood pumping out of my heart on the ground in front of me. A word and a color that has no self-pity in it, nor asks for pity. A take-no-prisoners persona, with a heart that is wide-open to the life I must create. A heart and a self that equally reflects the love that he left behind for me and the grief I carry with me with each breath and pulse beat.
No wimpiness. Nothing fake. Tears may pour from my eyes (and do). Sobs may rattle my chest (and do). Shudders of grief wrack my soul always, facing this life without him. I allow it all to happen and I enfold the darkness within the light (that I honestly don't see, but whatever...)
I drive my pink car and tow my pink-trimmed trailer on this Odyssey of Love and the front of it is crowned with a violet pink FWG in bold letters. The same logo is stamped over the Ford logo on the front and back of my car. I'm not fooling around with this. I can't.
FWG rising. Fiercely.
Love You. Seriously. I got a Tshirt I think you'd appreciate...altho those around me don't. It says "I can go from Sweet Southern Girl to Crazy Redneck faster than you can say Bless your Heart". I figure, the warning might help. I'll write more later, got a Funeral Lunch to serve for today, and have to start getting ready. Hopefully I won't fall apart too badly. FWG <3
ReplyDeleteKate,
ReplyDeleteSame message, different words.
Bless your fierce little heart~
Great post. My emotional pain from my life manifests in my upper back, as if I have been beaten until I bowed, into submission. Standing tall, open-cheated, feels both too vulnerable and too confrontational. It seems "better" if I make myself smaller and less noticeable. The blows seem to bounce off easier. If I already have the body language of a slave, when the disrespect comes it's less torturous than having to "break" my back, lower my proud chin, and re-curl. I loved how you ended this, "I'm not fooling around with this. I can't." I said that to so many people when I was younger! And, sadly, they chuckled, stuffed me into "normal", and I paid the price. The difference? Instead of going to good schools and making good money, I ended up Unhappily Homeless. I should've been able to retire to one of those charming retirement villages. And this is about more than money. It's about preserving YOU, especially so you can be there for the people who love you.You are RIGHT! You CAN'T fool around with this! Wishing you strength! -Snowygirl (D. JOHNSON)
ReplyDeleteSnowygirl,
DeleteI've had difficulty taking yoga classes, especially doing the heart opening poses. I also struggle with hoop-dancing, which I love. Both require me to take my hands from being wrapped around my body and open up and that's a tough one. Even though my heart is open to life in so many ways, in a determined way, I'm just not ready yet to engage. The times I have taken a yoga class, I've cried my way (quietly) through it.
It is very much about preserving myself, ourselves. I wish you love~
alison
I LOVE THIS. I've heard you talk about FWG before and when I saw this I instantly remembered. This is SO eloquently written and explained. I feel often people do not understand the power and reason behind choosing actions like this during grief, and I feel that what you said about choosing something you can live INTO that is equally as deep and strong and powerful as the pain you are experiencing is a perfect way to say it. I've struggled with how to say this myself since pouring myself so deeply into my latest photography project on grief - so Thank you for this!!! Just reading it makes me feel more powerful! Definitely sharing around.
ReplyDeleteThank you, Sarah. I'm humbled that my words touch anyone-sometimes they just pour out of me and I don't necessarily know if they're making sense. Is there a place I can check out your grief project?
DeleteMy daughter and I go out on the road next Wednesday, to continue this Odyssey of Love and I know there will be a million pictures, a million words, and a life that opens up, with love greeting us wherever we go~
alison
You. Fucking. Rock.
ReplyDeleteI write here on Fridays, and like Sarah, I have seen your FWG term before, but this post nailed it down and made it so real. Im pretty sure it was the pictures of the "not stupid pink" vehicles.
I completely get you.
Im a comedian, so a lot of my coping comes from outrageousness and big silly humor, often laughing in the face of my own sadness and grief. I find that people either completely get this, or they really just dont.
At this point, Im starting to care less and less about who "gets" me and who doesnt - no time for that now. Gotta "live into it". What a great way to say what it is .....
xo.
Kelley,
DeleteI envy you your comedic gifts! Dark humor is a mainstay with me and I think what I especially appreciate about it is the raised eyebrows I sometimes get in response, as I'm sure happens with you. If you've been in the trenches, nothing is sacred. Except everything.
Rock on~
alison
You eloquently put into words feelings I've tried for nearly 4 years to write ! July 14th will be 4 years since my darling husband died in my arms. Putting into words how this makes you feel..or stop feeling is hard to explain to people ! You nailed it !! Bravo brave FWG !! If you are ever coming up toward south eastern Kansas or Oklahoma , Joplin , Mo..please post you are coming this way ! Would so love to take part in anything you offer !!! Hugs...Kristy
ReplyDeleteKrissi,
DeleteI'll keep your area in mind and would so love to meet you. Updates will be on our page regularly~
dear Alison,
ReplyDeletewow! I read what you wrote about finding something each day to LIVE INTO, and was so overwhelmed with how profound that notion is - I had to read it three times just to get myself breathing again! YES, YES, YES - the measure of our grief is the measure of what we've lost - the big, larger than life love that made up our life force. then left us flailing and in the depths of anguish, and wondering what to do with that oh, so, empty void. you are so right - it simply will not do, trying to transfuse dribs and drabs, slow flowing measly drops that will never infuse enough healing energy, that inevitably dries up before a proper volume of the right stuff can begin to accumulate. no! you are so right - it's got to be of the measure, the heft, of the most weight we can FEEL, it's got to be worthy of the mighty heaviness of our grief, to fortify and invigorate and challenge grief when we want to continue to fight tooth and nail to carve out a meaningful life for ourselves. well met, well said - stupendously expressed, and I thank you, FWG.
with much love and admiration and inspiration,
Karen xoxo