“It was built into the entire premise of the show — support and love only make people better, healthier, happier, more joyful people.
I think in the same way that we chose not to show prejudice or bigotry or homophobia in the show, it was really important for us that we show that the growth that these characters went through, that the the level of acceptance and love that was shown to our characters throughout these six seasons by the townspeople and vice versa, be really celebrated and rewarded with a happy ending.
It felt like any other option would have really undermined the intention of the show.”
In the lead up to the second anniversary of the Schitt’s Creek finale, I’m revisiting some of my favorite articles:
“I hope that it’s the same thing that people will remember the show for, which is just standing for something. Standing for something positive; standing for acceptance; standing for love; standing for the power of empathy and kindness; standing for the transformative effects that opening yourself up and being vulnerable and supported, what that can do to a person.”
“I want you to know that it is not always easy to love me. That sometimes my chest is a field full of landmines, and where you went last night, you can’t go tomorrow. There is no manual, there is no road map, no help line you can call; my body does not come with instructions, and sometimes even I don’t know what to do with it. This cannot be easy. But still, you touch me anyway.”
So I’ve been writing this story for a while but having trouble getting it to a point where I can actually start to share it, but I’ve at least managed to get *a* beginning going, which serves mostly as an introduction to this character.
Elenir (my beloved)
This needs more work before it’s ready to put up “officially” but it’s good enough and since it is the relevant week, here he is.
When I was a little girl, I saw myself as beautiful. Like fairy-princess riding a glass carriage to the ball kind of beautiful. I woke and ate and dressed and played and slept believing this. When I got a bit older, I started to pick up on the way people looked at me. They rushed to help me, seemed sad or even proud when I smiled, and stared at my paralyzed legs. I noticed that none of the fairy-princesses on the screens looked anything like me. And this is when I started to piece it together – girls that looked like me were usually pitied, could maybe become inspirational, but were never beautiful. So I found ways to hide myself, obscure my imperfections, point the camera away from my paralyzed legs. But here I am, thirty years old, finding my way back to the little girl who saw herself as beautiful, who wasn’t afraid to put on a lacy floor-length dress, just to go to the library, who didn’t try to hide, who felt worthy of admiration. Day by day, I am building my beauty uniform – the space I slip into that invites me to relish in my own particular beauty, to be seen without shame.
In the days that followed I thought about grief; how nothing and nobody can prepare you for it. People tell you their stories but until you experience it for yourself you can’t possibly understand. There’s no going around it. Or under or over it. You’ve got to go through it. It will hit you in waves so enormous that you are smacked against the shore. It will permeate the very fabric of your life, so that everything you do is stained by it; every moment, good or bad, is steeped in sadness for a while. Even the nice moments, the achievements and successes, are tinged with the knowledge that someone or something is missing. And the first time that you smile or laugh, you catch yourself, because happiness feels so unfamiliar.
Hazel Hayes, Out of Love
How do you confront Grief and win? You don’t. You let Grief speak. You listen to his words and take in his lessons. You heed his warning as you wait for better days. There is no asset more valuable than retrospect, and retrospect is Grief’s gift to you. Grief is the messenger without whom there is no growth, no wisdom, no acceptance of what was and no hope for new beginnings.
And maybe, once Grief has etched his message into the skin of your soul, it’s really you who’s won.
Not a glorified or sensational victory — but a victory nevertheless. A victory whose wisdom eludes the masses but is indispensable to you. A quiet, dignified victory that tells you it’s okay to go on and shows you how. So sit with Grief. Talk to him. Learn his patterns and remember his story. Look upon his presence as a blessing and his visit as a soothing salve for your wounds.
What a beautiful way to put it in words! I would like you to see this.
-Dushka Zapata.
This is so utterly beautiful. I’d like to believe that the understanding brings with it, a gradual acceptance; as your body tries to accomodate and grow around the part of you that’s irrevocably lost. And when you start living again, seeing the world through the bleary eyes of your grief, another lesson awaits you.
It calls to mind, this snippet from A Little Life by Hanya Yanagihara:
Or maybe he is closer still: maybe he is that gray cat that has begun to sit outside our neighbor’s house, purring when I reach out my hand to it; maybe he is that new puppy I see tugging at the end of my other neighbor’s leash; maybe he is that toddler I saw running through the square a few months ago, shrieking with joy, his parents huffing after him; maybe he is that flower that suddenly bloomed on the rhododendron bush I thought had died long ago; maybe he is that cloud, that wave, that rain, that mist. It isn’t only that he died, or how he died; it is what he died believing. And so I try to be kind to everything I see, and in everything I see, I see him.
The Love That Healed Me || A month after the first @ReclaimYourVoice event in 2012, I had a craving for spoken word poetry. My only experience of it had been at a show several years prior so I found it strange that I had this random desire to hear some. And then, just a few short days later, I met a poet named Paul. Our connection was ethereal. I locked eyes with him the moment we met and for years did not break eye contact. But I didn’t realize that I still had many unhealed wounds and a lot I needed to work through. Despite his calm and peaceful ways, I still found myself terrified to trust and often reacted with emotional outbursts. In my previous relationship, I had blamed David for all the negative feelings I was experiencing. But when the same thoughts and behaviours started to resurface in me even with this loving, gentle soul I was almost destroyed by the realization of how toxic I was and how much I had been affected by what LO had done to me. Dismayed and ashamed, I tried to break up with Paul. I told him I didn’t want him to have to clean up another man’s mess. His response? “Sweep, sweep.” And he didn’t leave my side. He held me through some of my worst storms, the rock that calmed my tumultuous waters. Paul loved me so deeply and completely that for the first time ever, I learned how to love myself. My mind was so at peace in his arms that I began to heal automatically. Paul was the only person to love and accept me unconditionally, and my first experience of being in love. I owe so much of who I am today to Paul’s gentle love. He was the personification of all that is the opposite of abuse. I hear so many people say that abuse changed them irrevocably and I can both understand and relate. But just remember that there are also people who come along and change us irrevocably in all of the best ways as well. I know I say this every time I see you, usually with tears in my eyes, but since we haven’t seen each other in a while, thank you for everything, Paul ✨
I finally got some new bees made up, and what better time to share them than Pride Month! I’ve rounded out the Ace Umbrella and now have Demisexual and Greysexual buttons and patches available in my shop! To all the aces in my life and everywhere: I see you, and you belong here. bit.ly/beesexual #queer #queerart #asexual #AcePride #pride #pridemonth #Pride2019 #aromantic #demisexual #greysexual #greysexual #greyace #bees #beeart #beequeer #inclusion #acceptance #etsy #etsyCanada #etsywaterlooregion https://www.instagram.com/p/By-trFyDemE/?igshid=1642eikjivpdu
I will leave, you will leave. No one knows or has control over anyone’s departure date. Feel blessed that you have today. Live freely and humbled that you have been gifted the greatest most valuable intangible thing ever… TIME.
Every second counts. Every second you will never get back again.
To love thyself is to accept that I will leave, you will leave, he will leave, she will leave, they will leave and to accept this knowledge is the ultimate surrender.
Cherish the time you have with yourself and with others and you will live life with no regrets. Truly value those that give you time and themselves.
I dare you to enter a relationship with yourself and others and do the following:
The last time I walked these paths with this kind of chill in the air, I was a seeker.
I wasn’t sure just what I sought– what all of us seek, I imagine: belonging, acceptance, understanding. I found it in drips and drabs along my journey, enough to keep me plodding onward, despite the occasional step back.
I defined myself by the search.
As I walk here again this night, with the cool fall air stinging my throat, I’m aware that I have changed, that I need to redefine myself. A seeked-er? A searched-er? A sought-er?
I couldn’t have said what I was looking for, exactly, but I can say now, unequivocally, that it was you and the found-er you’ve let me become.
