Catharsis
Originally written October 30th, 2021.
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The transition of the caterpillar to a butterfly mean many things, - growth, (significant) change, and even so; life after death. Albeit it’s process of complete transformation, and the symbolic connection of its physical and spiritual meanings, it is one that mesmerises human comprehension.
Before you try to study my prose, and become familiar with its flow, I realised that I had not formally introduced myself. I am a Black, bold, complex, resilient, smart, creative, sensitive, determined, protective, stubborn, [sometimes a whirlpool of chaotic emotions], analytical, house (music) loving, and an outrageously beautiful bisexual woman. Capricorn. My name is Chantal Senya. As I write this, I am at a place where I’ve become familiar to the feelings of both nostalgia and reflection.
Over the past year, - to describe it simply as a ‘journey’ with its standard ‘ups and downs’ would be unfair. It would be wrong to disregard the standing in my position here today.
Today marks a year since my understanding of life, the perception of my own mortality, and my own life entirely changed. My father died. The man who had raised me, loved me, fought with me, and ultimately influenced me and the way that I see The Beatles and literature, history and academia – was no more. Whilst consumed by the flood of my own grief and guilt of feeling like I had not done enough when he was here, those thoughts dominated my mind. It ultimately manifested itself like a spoken prophesy, and dictated the way I saw myself, how I related to others, and how I loved.
1 Corinthians 13:4-5 –“Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs…”
Love is generally understood as a feeling, something that makes us feel good, to make others feel good. Well, that was my understanding. In the chrysalis of what was both processing my fathers passing, and also balancing my personal life, work, interactions and living in these ‘unprecedented times’.
In grief, I had initially turned my back on love and numbed myself to the vulnerability of loving someone. After all, I had lost someone. I was conflicted and emotionally turbulent. Unsure of how to grieve, what sense to make of death. I also found that despite my efforts to try and push this new reality away, it clung onto me tighter. Like a suppressed sneeze bursting to exit. All in all, a disastrous and cyclical torment. Because I had lost someone, I was confused at my own love for my father, and what that meant in honouring his legacy in my life.
Was I making things up? Was I overreacting? How would I even come to terms with his death? What was I going to do to travail through this? How do I live my life? Would I even come out of the other side of this? Did I really love my father? – Of course I loved him. Of course I was not overreacting. Of course I wasn’t making things up, and as I try to comprehend his absence, cocooned in discomfort, I knew that I needed to change my point of view. Not only to pass through grief, but so that I could be an effectively better human being.
Grief is profound.
However as time passed (amongst other things), I started to spend time with people. There I learnt about the value of family, the sanctuary of trust, strength in (giving and receiving) support, the beauty of maintaining healthy relationships (platonic and romantic), the importance of quality time spent, and finding new ways to deepen bonds and show appreciation. Also, originality in showing love and finally, acceptance of myself and acceptance of the love that I had been given by my loved ones. - Some of which are components in love.
Just shy of 48 hours ago, it hit me. The lesson that I learnt and continue to learn had been hidden in plain sight. I learnt to love. Myself, my family, my friends, my loved ones, the moments with those loved and lost, to act accordingly and show appreciation for the connections and things in my life, and God. That love isn’t designed to make you feel pretty, it’s designed to withstand ugly and painful in things. Love is strength that each of us possess. Love is action. Love is finally knowing what you deserve, and being able to apply that in a way which enriches yourself, and nurtures the relationships with those you hold tenderly. Astutely, human life is delicate and short.
This period of time has been my personal catharsis. This is my catharsis.
I now live in the fond memories and positive impartation of my father upon my life. New meanings attached to words, which I’ve played over and over in my mind. Achievements in my personal life, which still hurt that I am unable to share with him. I found that upon introspection, I love myself more because I was shown how to love. My knowledge of love was limited and saw it only through the eyes of romanticism. I love myself and I am able to extend that love onto others.
I say this for the boy or girl or person that finds themselves lost in the ‘sat-nav’ of ‘life’. The person who finds themselves repeating negative patterns or behaviours, are in cycles of abuse, feel hopeless, and bound by the mistakes of their past. Who finds themselves making the wrong decisions, disrespecting themselves, tarnishing their worth by connecting with the wrong people, wasting time as it speeds by, those self-destructing in the name of ‘rebellion’. I want to encourage you that you can come out of that. That your emancipation does not have to be through loss (directly), to find the power to grow.
As I look at the year ahead, I see further growth. Neither growth or grief are linear, but I know that by virtue of perseverance, my ability to love will touch someone long after I am no more.
Deacon ~ Because of you, when I see a butterfly, I now see confirmation of my transition through life. I see love, and a reminder of the comfort that love can give to someone. Thank you, and I’ll see you soon.
Originally written October 30th, 2021.
