Like Squares of a Quilt
As tired as I am of writing or even thinking this sentence: This year has been an especially challenging year. We’ve all been asked to face a lot of things we weren’t expecting to deal with. And so many people have had to face more than they thought they could handle. That’s always true. Every single day. But this is probably the first time in all of our lifetimes that it feels like almost everyone is living in darkness all at once.
Right now, everyone is dealing with their demons. Those things we don’t like about ourselves, and the ways we handle life’s obstacles. When life deals us a shit hand, we wonder how the hell we are supposed to play it out. Where it isn’t an option to fold or get up from the table.
Popular culture and opinion throw around phrases like conquering your demons and moving on. Like life is a game to win or a puzzle to solve. And after the game, you can set down all the pieces you don’t want to bring with you to the next round. Like those pieces aren’t a part of who you are. It might just be semantics, but I don’t believe in either idea.
What I do believe in is moving forward with and understanding your demons. To me, moving on means forgetting. And conquering demons means believing that the darkness is no longer a part of you. But, you can’t change your past. And I’ve never wanted to forget any of those things that got me here. Nor any of the challenges my future self will face.
All of the moments of dark and light I’ve ever experienced are stitches in my quilt. Each tiny moment is one stitch of the person I am and the life I’m living. No, I don’t remember every second in my life. I don’t try to either. But I also don’t ask myself to forget the dark parts that might not be fun for me to remember. They are just as much a part of me as anything else.
So I don’t want to forget. I don’t want to move on, and I don’t want to conquer my demons. I’d rather move forward with the hard things and understand my demons, my own inner world of darkness. I’d rather know why other people’s ordinary moments are ones that knock the wind out of me. Because remembering how darkness feels helps me better notice all of the light.
When we ask ourselves to forget so we can move on, I think of it as intentionally cutting holes in our quilt. We work to systematically remove the dark, ugly squares because we think a quilt of all good things is somehow better. Maybe it looks prettier when you hold it up, but it’s weaker with the holes. When you cut away any single stitch, you risk the whole thing unravelling.
The way I see it, I always want to know where my scars came from. And I think it’s worth knowing the less pretty parts of me too. I never want to erase my scars, or make my own darkness a stranger, because I like the reminders of exactly what it took to stitch myself together.
When I look at my quilt, there are some really ugly squares on it. Places that barely held together on the first pass. Places that I’ve needed to reinforce over again and again. Revisiting those squares is messy. But without those extra stitches, I would have fallen apart. When I look at my quilt though, I know those ugly spots are the places where I’m the strongest. It’s from the dark and ugly that I know I’ll hold together.
Which brings me back to this year. A year when so many people are wishing it would just hurry up and be over. A year when the ending sentiment seems to be that this is a year to forget. I don’t think it is though. To me, this is a year to remember.
Maybe this year is going to be your ugliest square you’ve ever stitched together. But, would you rather remember exactly what it took for you to survive it, or risk forgetting that you did?
