Why I stopped writing for 4.5 years.

Brooke Ferguson Travel 10 Comments

Hello,
…again. It’s me, Brooke, I’ve been gone for awhile now. And I’m about to tell you why.

About 4.5 years ago, one of my best friends died. She died at the peak of her life. Newly married, just moved to Paris, ready to learn more French and take on the world. She went on holiday, and in some freak accident of nature, she got pulled out to sea, bashed her head on a rock, drowned, and died. All in a moment. Just like that. Gone.

Everyone else I know seemed to get over it. I would say they did so in a reasonable amount of time. They grieved, processed, and, well… eventually moved on. But, for some reason, I have been incapable of doing that.

I tried to write on my blog here, I really did.

But everything came out negative, hateful, or “fake-feeling”. Trying to put a positive spin on life felt trite, juvenile, and untrue. I wanted to scream everywhere I went, “WHY DO WE DIE? WHAT IS THE POINT?!!”

I became numb. The usual stuff that inspired me that I wanted to share stopped working. It lost it’s taste. Regular positive stuff was too bland. I wanted more flavor, but was incapable of finding any taste.

Then, as if there was a succession of death planned, people I loved started dropping like flies. I will not be a martyr and make a list but let’s just say that in a rather short period of my life I lost a major part of my small but extremely important people circle. And, with every period of new grief, I felt a little less like writing. Maybe ever again.

I have some things that I have written, but they were dark dark dark.

My sister recently asked me why I think I was so affected by her death. I think it was because she represented the better parts of life. She was able to create fun and fantastic and add glitter and bubbles to everything to make life better. We need these people in our lives because without them, the colors of life all run dry. Even just knowing that she is no longer here brings a knot to my throat, a spasm to my stomach and tears to my eyes.

So maybe I’ll never get over it.

Maybe that’s not the point. Maybe we should never get over the ones that we have lost.

Maybe we never move on and just get a little more real and more broken every time we lose someone we are close to (and that we let get close to us). Maybe there is no right way to bundle up death and put a happy face sticker on it. It just hurts. And for a real fucking long time. It just breaks us, inside, deep where nobody else can see. A crack, with hot molten lava burning in our gut. Every. Single. Time.

I can try.

All that I can do now is try. I can try to get up every day and do something. I can try to write. I can try to find something to say through the pain. I can try to find something nice, or something funny, and put it here for you. In case you have the pain. In case you have lost something too.

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Comments 10

  1. Mike | Hobo with a Laptop

    Sorry for your losses, Brooke. I’m really excited you’re back at it, though.

    Not sure if you remember our brunch back in Ao Nang; I was new to the “business backpacker” scene. I’d reached out to you because you were a key inspiration.

    Well, you still are.

    Putting things in context, I think we met right after your loss (within weeks?). At the time I was still mourning a friend who kissed a train as well.

    And now here we are; helping others take the leap, stronger than ever because we know what awaits and know very well that time is fleeting.

    If you click on my name, I’ve linked to an article called “An Open Letter to the Struggle”. Gratitude, even for the dark parts, will always get us through.

    Maybe we bump into eachother again sometime. I’ll be in Thailand for the King’s funeral with my wife. I’ve been next door in the Philippines for awhile.

    Mental hugs and high fives –keep on, keepin’ on.

    Mike

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      Brooke Ferguson

      Hi Mike!
      Glad to hear that you followed your dream and are making it happen! I read your link, it is great – I can totally relate. There comes a time in every business (read: life) to kiss the struggle goodbye. At whatever cost. The thing that I never realized is how little of it is actually monetary. I think so much of it is mental. The getting over yourself and getting out of your own way part is huge, and after that — well, I’ll tell you about it when I see you next. You are doing great and big props on the site. It’s a huge resource for any digital nomads out there. See you somewhere soon!!

  2. Deborah

    There is no balm for grief, no words that can take the pain of loss away. Death and Life go hand in hand, in a grand cycle not of our design. Our culture has no rituals or ceremonies meaningful enough to sooth the pain of loss. We are left gutted and empty and struggling with the pain and the darkness and memory that enfolds us. Other, older and wiser cultures, indigenous to this planet and have been here thousands of years before us, honor the passing of their friends, family and tribal members with rituals. They never forget their ancestors; never forget their relations for they know we are all connected. They talk to those who have passed for they know the Spirit of their loved ones never dies.

    Take heart, Brooke, for your dearest friend is close at hand, standing by you. Reach out with your mind, your heart, your soul and your spirit and simply just talk to her as if she is physically right there in the chair. You will hear her in your mind and in your heart; she will send you a sign, an omen if you ask. Allow yourself to feel the joy of her presence in spirit. She is with you always.

    Many blessings, Brooke. Take care and take heart.

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  3. Sari

    Brooke, I’m happy that you wrote about this. I’m sure it wasn’t easy to open up. And if you didn’t know: You are also one of those people that can add glitter and bubbles to everything to make life better! <3 😉

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