Photo of the Day: Black clouds, sun shining

In January of 2010 I lived out on Block Island. I was out there for a month. I had been let go of my long-time job at the end of 2009 (economic crash), and had been there for 11 years so they gave me a huge severance and a year of health insurance. Boy, those days are done, right? 2009 was one of the worst years of my life. My dad died in January of 2009. Some great things happened that year, but the worst happened too. I cracked up in June/July – NOT because of my father’s death, but because of this sociopath guy I unwittingly let into my life that spring. (Of course it really was just a long-delayed response to my father being gone. But I didn’t put that together at the time.) My radar was way off (grief), otherwise I would never have let that guy into my life. (I have often wanted to take down the posts here from June/July 2009. They are spooky. Language literally left me. I couldnt’ speak. Yet I kept posting. I decided to keep them up just because … keepin’ it real over here.)

When that guy vanished – literally – I went BANANAS. I cried for 19 days straight. When I say straight, I mean straight. Morning to night. I cried during my commute. I cried in my cubicle at work. I cried all the way home. I cried myself to sleep. I went to bed at 7, 7:30 because it was too agonizing to be awake. I woke up in tears. And on and on. To say “I should have been in the hospital” is an understatement. I never realized that “wringing your hands” wasn’t just a Victorian-era theatrical trope. I really did wring my hands, I would pace back and forth and wring my hands. It wasn’t emotional anguish, it was physical anguish.

The worst part of 2009, though, was that I could no longer read. I think I read 9 books that year, and I could barely get through those. I also couldn’t watch movies. So my two main outlets for comfort and escape were closed to me. (I now know that I was in a full-blown rapid-cycling mixed-state, which is the most dangerous psychological state that there is. People will do ANYTHING to stop it it’s that painful. But whatever. I white-knuckled it.) SO.

After all THAT, I lost my job in November I think. If I lost my job just half a year later, they would have given me a couple weeks’ severance and no health benefits. That’s how quickly the economy plummeted. I got let go at just the right time. I basically spent 2010 1. recovering from 2009 2. working on my script – which I began in 2009 and 3. getting my writing career off the ground. I got my first paying gig in the fall (?) of 2010.

But FIRST, I planned a month-long retreat in the DEAD of winter out on Block Island. January is a crazy time to go to Block Island. It’s empty of everyone except inhabitants. Everything is closed, except an over-priced grocery store. The winds, the snows, the storms are INSANE. But … that’s what I wanted. I found a house to rent, and I went out there WITH HOPE – my dear Hope! – the 12-mile ferry ride out was hair-raising. The boat was literally going vertically up the sides of big waves and then crashing down on the other side. I arrived in the teeth of a bitter snowstorm. The house was locked and the real estate person was not there at the ferry so I had no key. Hope and I sat in my car, which, thankfully had gas in the tank, and we called her again and again until she picked up. She forgot I was coming that day. Ah, life in a small town. A small tourist town off-season.

The month I spent there was GLORIOUS. I had visitors every weekend – my mother, my sister Siobhan and Ben, jean and Pat and baby Lucy, and then Mitchell, Luisa and Meghan came out for one wild debauched afternoon. But other than that I was totally alone. There was a storm so violent a shutter was ripped off my house. I love storms but even that one was a little much. There was another storm and I – like a lunatic – drove down to the beach. I have never seen such monster waves in my life. I got back in the car and my face and hair were literally coated in salt and sand.

But other than that, I sat in my toasty house and watched TCM and read. And read. And read. I hadn’t been able to read in a whole year. I went on a BINGE. Hope wandered around or curled up next to me. I cooked. I had coffee. I walked around. There was one bar open and it was in walking distance. I trudged over there through the snow one night. There were, like, three fishermen sitting at the bar. And me. It was good to have company.

I explored every nook and cranny of the island. I went out to the North Lighthouse almost every day. One day it was so freezing the ocean froze. I took an ORGY of pictures with my awesome camera.

On an island, you FEEL the seasons more than you feel them on the mainland. It snowed multiple times while I was out there. Then the sun would blaze out for a few days and it would all melt. Then another storm rolled in, battering the island.

I got to know the signs. I knew when to hunker down. (Well, I KNEW, but I still drove out to the ocean. Incredibly dangerous since the monster waves were crashing over the damn road. But anyway.) One day – and these are the pictures I’m posting today – I was out driving around, and the sky was BLACK with clouds on one side, and the sun was BLAZING on the other side. The effect of light and shadow was startling. It almost didn’t look real. Everything’s painted white out there, the houses, hotels, and so they GLEAMED in that sun, but overhead the sky was BLACK. So you’d see the houses – or the statue – or the ferry – as BLAZING islands of white in the middle of blackness.

I knew by then. Sheila, you have got to get home, because all hell is about to break loose. I went down to the docks to watch the ferry come in (I never got sick of watching that), and then headed home before the MASSIVE storm hit. And it did hit.

I have never forgotten my wintry month out there. I had all these plans to be productive, to write something big. Turns out, I was really out there to learn how to read again. And to heal.