Letter 31: The medicine of groundlessness.
Rogue Humans is a weekly newsletter digging into the challenges of life in the modern world of work.
What I’m listening to: That new Taylor Swift album people are loving and hating. Personally, I think there are some true bangers so I’m down. Also listening to Garbage and planning on seeing them in Manchester in July!
What I’m reading: The Heart’s Invisible Furies by John Boyne and In Pieces, a memoir by Sally Field which is incredible on audiobook. I’m going to have a hard time enjoying other narrators after this.
On Wednesday I head to Los Angeles for 5 days with my partner to stay with some friends. I often work while traveling, but this will be time just for me to chill. I can’t remember the last time I traveled and didn’t work, so it’s definitely time for a break.
I’m so looking forward to unplugging and hanging with pals, eating amazing food, sleeping in and working on my book.
The last time I was in Los Angeles it was late January of 2022, and my world had just exploded a few months before.
My marriage had deteriorated into messy and chaotic oblivion, and I was having a hard time wrapping my head around my new reality.
My world had gone from something predictable and understandable to complete and utter madness.
I had accepted the fact that it was over, but what came next was the unraveling and letting reality sink in.
So, I bought myself a plane ticket and a front row seat to see Bjork in LA so I could have my brain turned inside out and cry next to a bunch of strangers. And maybe even get a little sun and enjoy a break from the harsh Minnesota winter.
I figured movement and digestion of what was happening was better than stagnation. My ex and I were still under the same roof but we were trying to keep the peace. I was happy to be out of the house and away from the incessant texting with the “other woman” that still hadn’t stopped, even after I’d asked several times for some respect and discretion if we were going to have to co-exist until their lease started in March.
(Hindsight is 20/20. I wish I’d hightailed it out of there immediately).
I arrived at LAX late on a Thursday night and weaved my way through the dark roads on the way to my Airbnb, a small guest house in Runyon Canyon. I had only been to LA once prior with my high school marching band, but it had only been for an afternoon or so and I always had wanted to come back.
The roads were quiet that night. I hummed along in my little Nissan and felt a sudden panic in my throat as I realized just how completely alone I was.
There was a stark moment where I felt the bottom of the car disappear. It felt like I was driving a Flintstone car.
It was the first time I’d really ever felt groundlessness like that. An absolute free fall of the soul.
If you’re at all familiar with tarot (I also read tarot btw!) The Fool is the first card of the deck. It is BIG groundlessness energy. It reminds us that the ground is really never beneath us anyway. We can either fear it or feel it.
At first I thought a panic attack was going to take me down as I drove, but it almost felt bigger than that. I felt as if I were floating; that there was nothing below me.
Nothing and no one was coming to save me.
Well, until I saw the convenience store up ahead and knew that I could grab some wine and cheese, which could absolutely bring me a bit of comfort.
During those next few days in Los Angeles I both lost myself and found myself again, over and over.
I was teaching a class remotely and decided to really go wild and treat myself to the first cup of caffeinated coffee that I’d had in about 6 years.
It. Was. MAGICAL. HOLY CRAP.
I couldn’t tell you if it had been a truly phenomenal cup of coffee or not, but I can tell you that the delightful bean juice that ran through my body on that beautiful, sunny morning in Los Angeles made me feel alive in a way I hadn’t felt for some time.
That little cup of coffee gave me the little push I needed that day to start paying attention again to things outside of the nightmare in my own head and the house I was living in.
I’d walk outside of my little guest house during class breaks, letting the sun warm my skin. I’d watch fat fuzzy bumblebees lazily hum around a lemon tree, their little faces and butts kissed with pollen.
I had been losing weight rapidly from stress over the months leading up to the trip, but in LA I was finally able to eat full meals without intense waves of nausea and panic.
I went on a run for the first time in weeks because I finally had the energy to do so.
I drove around Laurel Canyon and drove by the house Joni Mitchell and Graham Nash lived in together, two of my all time favorite musicians.
I cruised down the palm tree-lined streets and listened to Sublime on the radio.
I felt myself smiling for the first time in a long time.
On my last night in LA I went to see Björk at the Shrine Auditorium and I grabbed some amazing sushi prior to the show.
I sat there, with my pretty little dishes and just felt sad and alone. I had been moving around so much the past few days I’d kept busy enough to distract myself.
This time I didn’t try and chase it away. I let myself sit with the sadness for a bit, and it felt a hell of a lot better than running from it.
I started talking to a stranger who was next to me at the bar, covered in tattoos. He mentioned something about one of mine and we started talking. He was from New Jersey but moved out to LA on a whim - no family, no friends, no connections at all. Just his real estate license and a very tiny apartment.
I asked him how he liked living here.
“I love it,” he laughed, sipping his sake.
“LA is weird, man. It’s just perfect for me.”
I felt the same way. It was the only place I wanted to be in that moment.
That night at the show I settled into my red velvet seat with a massive glass of red wine and let Björk take me on a journey. I had only seen her one other time at a music festival, but her set had been cut short due to a thunderstorm (to which she yelled into the mic ‘they’re telling me I have to get off the stage, but they wouldn’t make me do this in Iceland, I can tell you that!’).
Crying was like a recreational sport for me during those raw early days, so I just went with it as soon as I saw her walk onto the stage.
Björk is someone I’ve admired since the age of 15 so I just let myself soak it in. My inner teenager was blissed out and my outer adult was a sobbing mess. We co-existed there together, like two peas in a pod.
After the show the LA Cryfest 2022 afterparty continued in my bed at the guest house. I crawled out of the Uber and put Björk on YouTube and just wailed. I cried for what I’d lost, what I’d found, what was behind me and what was ahead. I cried about all of it, and then I sobbed some more.
Given all the research I’ve been doing on Ireland for my book I recognize now that this was keening.
I was lamenting. It felt like a ritual. For the first time in a long time, I was feeling more than numbness. The grief had made its way to the surface and it wanted OUT.
The next day I awoke to eyes that were so puffy I couldn’t put on eye makeup, and anyone who knows me and my love for my liquid liner and eyeshadow knows that’s pretty serious.
I slapped some sunglasses on and made my way to the beach before heading to the airport.
I sat down in the sand and wrote a letter. I addressed it to my ex. I never gave it to them.
I recognize now that the letter was never meant for them - it was meant for me to give to myself.
In it I talked about the hurt, of course, but recognized this experience was the opportunity I needed to feel and look at something else. That grief is necessary and the only way out is through.
The last sentence I wrote in that letter was the truest thing I could say. It was a spell. A goodbye.
“I am forever changed. There’s no going back now. Only forward.”
Experiencing groundlessness in Los Angeles was the medicine I needed.
Returning there feels really special to me.
My life looks so completely different now. As I dig deeply into writing my book and as I discover the ways writing fiction can heal things that were once a reality, I know this book wouldn’t have been possible without these first steps of walking through hell in the city of angels.
I hope you all have a fantastic week full of joy, letting yourself cry if you need to, and music that moves you. If you’re not feeling very grounded right now, I hope you’re able to be kind to yourself and see what unfolds.
Cheers,
T.