Caerlyss Whispers: Thoughts at the End of Everything

I wrote this back in 2011, just a few days before my first major surgery. I was very sick at the time; Crohn's disease had ruined my guts to the point where my body had all but stopped accepting food. At 96 lbs (I'm 5'7", so you can imagine how serious it was), my body had started to "eat" itself, consuming the fat that's supposed to protect your bones and organs. My surgeon was considering putting off a conference because she wasn't sure I'd make it until she got back. Keep in mind that I was a lot younger, a lot more naive, and it was a whole different world back then. If I were to write the same piece again today, a few things would definitely be different.

Thoughts at the End of Everything

So what would I say if I was staring the end of everything right in the face, but I hadn't ever started anything of note, nor finished anything—however pointless—that I may have begun in the first place?

A line from a novel I read what seems like centuries ago stays with me: "It all started with nothing but a head, and a finger to scratch it with." The name of the novel escapes me, but the line stays with me nonetheless.

If I had to say goodbye, if I had time, if I could leave just a small piece of myself behind—to reassure, assure, or even confuse the unholy shit out of someone—what would I really say?

I'd say, "Never put foil in the microwave." I'd say, "Never blindly follow a date or a friend or a masked bandit when the request is preceded with, 'Trust me!'" I'd say, "Don't drop a cat in the bathtub for fun, nor the clothes dryer. Trust me."

Trust. That's a funny word, isn't it? We often trust too much without truly considering its source or the potential consequences. No matter how much you like someone, trust shouldn't happen instantly. It should be nurtured and developed over weeks, months, or years before you even realize, "Hey, I trust this dude!" Or dudette, whatever the case may be. I don't just mean romantically, either. I mean in any and every fundamental way. "Fun, da mental." Isn't it? I digress...

You can also love someone without liking them. You can love the hell out of your crazy aunt, but maybe her politics piss you off, or that wheezy whistling noise her nose makes when she breathes. Yes, you can dislike someone for something so petty and small. It's okay, though; it's just you and me now. You can admit it. "I don't like your shoes, but I still love you. Those shoes, though... ugh. They really have to go!"

What is love? Love is, I suppose at its base, an obsession of emotion. It's most often seen as good but can also be toxic as hell, eating you up from the inside out. It has started wars, ended marriages, killed people, and given birth to others. It's good, bad, and ugly all at once, as beautiful or grotesque as you need it to be. Love is the butterflies I got in my tummy when I watched my babies sleep. There was a lump in my throat and a pain behind my eyes that spoke in unspoken words, saying, "For this being, I would SO cut a bitch." It said that I would walk through fire, take a bullet, and crawl to hell on my hands and knees just to keep this person safe.

Love is looking into the eyes of your chosen mate and believing that you are safe, individually and as a couple. It is the gut knowledge that you would willingly make sacrifices for their well-being and they for yours. It's being down to your last dinner roll and splitting it down the middle because neither of you could bear the thought of eating a single bite if your "other" has none. Love is holding your mate's hair back while they vomit and not feeling disgust or revulsion. Love is gross, love is solid, love is as beautiful as it is ugly.

Ugly isn't your hair or your acne or a roll around your middle. Ugly isn't your freckles or the gaping wound in your chest. Ugly is hate in your soul. Ugly is intolerance and hypocrisy. Ugly is pretending to be something you're not just to fit in or, worse still, to "one-up" someone you consider "less-than." And yes, we're all guilty of being ugly at some point in our lives. Humans are utterly flawed.

We are broken, filthy, lying, ugly beasts. We are also beautiful in our ugliness because we have the capacity to choose to do good, to control our ugly behaviors, to respect those around us, and to be honest and fair.

Your mind is the most amazing thing about you, in good and bad ways. The gift to imagine things, to read a book and see the story, the ability to daydream... wonderful, a blessing. But your mind can also make you see things that aren't there—paranoia that someone you trust is out to harm you, nightmares attacking you in the dark. Still, your fabulous mind gives you ideas and visions to create new projects and solve problems. You'll come up with something for me, go ahead. Fill in the blanks that I'll intentionally leave. See? Your mind is brilliant.

Enough of the weird, semi-existential crap. It's time for real talk, plain English, no-nonsense advice. I do tend to ramble and babble for days, saying everything but only I really understand it. So to a normal person, I'm really saying nothing at all. A book of useless drivel, just waiting to not be heard. My bad, oops!

Here's my advice:

At least once in your life, you must walk into the ocean fully dressed, right up to your thighs.
Feed a few stray animals and show them some love they've maybe never seen. This goes for stray humans as well. A little love and a full belly can go a long way.
Have a real conversation with a homeless person and actually truly listen. This also extends to an elderly person, a mentally ill person, and even to an outright batshit crazy person.
Try sushi, or enchiladas, or dolma, or some type of culinary treasure that's different from what you normally eat.
Stand in the rain and just breathe. Let the drops fall on you, turn in circles gazing up to the heavens, feel the water soak you to the bone. Dance.
Make snow angels.
Kiss a boy, kiss a girl, kiss an old man, kiss an animal. Kiss many of them, and kiss often and fully. Kiss and feel the small joys.
Tell your important people that you love them, frequently and unabashedly. You never know when you may not have the opportunity again.
Waste a solid hour on nothing at all, a day even. Just slow down and take some time to do absolutely nothing.
Sleep as late as you want, and then sleep some more.
Hold a baby.
Cuddle a stuffed toy.
Give a beggar a dollar.
Make a greeting card by hand for no reason and give it to the first person who comes to mind. Just do it.
Write a letter, not an email, but a real ink-and-paper letter. Mail it to someone because you can.
Thank a stranger.
Bring your bank teller a coffee or a cookie or a flower.
Tip your mailman, even if he never brings you a thing.

There are so many little things that make life special—little pleasures that make others smile and make us smile. Don't miss any of them out of pride or something equally self-defeating. Do before you die. Even if you feel silly, just do it. You'll thank me later.

When something feels wrong in your body, don't accept anything but your doctor's undivided attention. If he or she isn't willing to give that to you, then move on. It can mean the difference between now and forever.

If someone is mean to you—in meatspace or in the ether of the internet—stand your ground. Don't let the bully win. I don't mean make a big, dramatic "last stand" scene, but don't run or hide. Just keep doing what you'd normally do. Don't show fear or frustration. Trolls, in any form, thrive on causing people grief. They're not worth your time or energy, and they will move on if there's no fun to be had. This also holds true for in-laws, crazy relatives, and door-to-door God salesmen. They will eventually simmer down; you just need patience and the strength to not bash their fool heads off a counter.

There's an old cliché that says, "Dance like nobody is looking," but I want you to do one better. I want you to dance like everyone is looking, but you're so happy you just don't care! I just want you to dance.

Never judge a man by his religion, politics, or heritage. But in the same breath, be careful, because there really are people who will use those things to "one-up" you. They're few and far between, but they are out there, and I'm confident that you'll spot them when you see them. Lots of us have a cross to bear, and often it manifests as a big-ass chip on the shoulder.

Be aware and beware. Not everyone is out to do you good, just as not everyone is out to get you. You must watch carefully and judge for yourself what their intentions may be. Don't beat yourself up if you're wrong, but don't be stupid and just swallow everything at face value. The world is not black and white. There are many shades of gray in between, and some of those will bite.

I considered adding personal asides here regarding some of the not-so-stellar folks that I have known—the usual exes who never let it go, former friends who only cared when it suited them, people who judged me without ever having given me a chance. But then I decided to take the high road and leave them out. They know who they are and they know what they did to me. Bygones and all that jazz. To take my own advice: Trolls just aren't worth my time.

We're born into this world naked and alone. At some point, we leave this world just as naked and alone. I believe there is more after life, in fact I believe there are more lives, but that's neither here nor there. What matters while you're here is that you do the best you can, you make the most of what you have, and you live life as it was meant to be lived: to the fullest and best of your capabilities.

You take every experience and you learn from it. You carry that lesson with you into the next experience, and you use it to overcome obstacles or you fall in pits. You get back up, brush off your knees, and get back in the ring. You live it, you love it, you be it.

When it's over, you look back and know that you did your very best. No regrets. Every single thing happened for a reason, all of it. Even when it sucked.

This life really is a journey, not a destination. You ride that long highway, pick up hitchhikers, make rest stops, take pictures, collect keepsakes, fill up on gas, and then you just keep driving. The road does eventually fork to parts unknown, but your journey never truly ends.

Oh yeah, in case you couldn't tell, I wasn't expecting anyone to be reading this while I was still alive. So just on the off chance that you are and I am? Please be gentle. Talking about death is difficult, most especially when you're totally still alive.