Sarahbeth Caplin's Blog, page 50

From one anxiety-ridden soul to another: what helps, what doesn’t

I don’t want this post to sound like it was ripped from the pages of a Chicken Soup book by telling people who suffer from anxiety and panic disorders that the best cure (besides counseling and medication) is simply appreciating what you’ve got rather than worry so much about losing it.

That advice means nothing to people whose anxiety is triggered by circumstances; people who suffer as they do in part because they already have lost something or someone valuable to them.

In the weeks after my father died, my home was flooded with widows, and many stories I heard came from people whose spouses seemed healthy and normal, only to literally drop dead in a grocery store from an undiagnosed heart condition (or something of the sort).

I worry enough about losing people I love (and with good reason), so needless to say, when you already struggle with anxiety, these kinds of stories don’t help. People like me – the planning type – like to know what’s ahead, which is why anxiety is often coupled with Obsessive Compulsive Disorder. I would so rather know that something terrible is coming than have it strike my otherwise happy, quiet life without so much as a warning.

Marrying a physician assistant meant adjusting to a life of unpredictable scheduling: a patient could develop complications and need surgery at any hour of the day or night, meaning sometimes date nights get cancelled. That much I can handle, but what’s more difficult are the nights when my husband comes home hours later than usual – sometimes close to midnight – because there were complications in surgery, or an emergency came up, and it happens so quickly he doesn’t have time to text me “Hey hon, gonna be late tonight.”

What’s really frustrating is that I know, deep down, this is usually the case. It’s natural to worry from time to time, but for the person with an anxiety disorder, every hour that passes without hearing from your loved one is confirmation that they must have been killed by a drunk driver, and you may even start to develop heart palpitations strong enough to make you want to pop a Xanax.

You don’t need to tell me that’s abnormal: believe me, I know it is. That’s why it’s called a disorder. It’s with great horror I realize I’ve become That Wife, the constant worrier, not unlike the Mom with similar fears about her children when they are five minutes past curfew: it’s never “Oh, well, her phone must have lost battery, or it’s in the bottom of her purse and she didn’t hear it ring,” but rather Someone kidnapped her and she is trapped in someone’s trunk.

I’ve seen plenty of those mothers on sitcoms before. We laugh and make fun of such people, but consider for a moment that such fears go beyond a personality quirk, and are indicative of something more serious.

What I’d give to be more concerned that my husband is late because he’s out with his mistress, not dead or unconscious (okay, not really).

So what is the best cure for this? However well-intentioned this advice may be, “Just appreciate what you have while you still have it” is futile (can you tell I’ve heard it before?). Sometimes, when the beginnings of panic start digging their claws in, it helps to sit down and focus on breathing. Make a cup of tea. Sit with a pet, if you have one (my kittens have been extremely therapeutic). Pray, if you’re the praying type. You can’t change the circumstances around you, but you can pray for peace in the midst of them.

Honestly, last time this happened to me, I made a cup of chamomile and watched Frozen. Need I explain how empowering “Let it Go” is for the anxiety-ridden soul? :)

Filed under: Other stuff Tagged: cats, depression, grief

“A priest, nun, and rabbi walk into a bar…” (A true story)

I’m learning how to speak in front of crowds again. This reading from Confessions of a Prodigal Daughter is through Northern Colorado Writers. I always read live from Confessions because I figure the audience will respond better to stories about my family’s quirks and that time my friends and I – a priest, a nun, and a wannabe rabbi – all went into a bar this one time just so we could say we did, as opposed to my darker stories about rape and spiritual abuse.

Anyway, enjoy!

Filed under: Religion, Writing & Publishing Tagged: Author Sarahbeth Caplin, Christian culture, Christianity, Confessions of a Prodigal Daughter, evangelicals, grief, hell, Indie Author Life, Judaism, Writing

If predatory lyrics weren’t so catchy, would we still listen?

Ever have an event happen in your life that caused you to view the world differently?

I have. And it’s forever changed the way I view pop culture.

Turn on the radio for half an hour and pay attention, if you can, to the lyrics (sometimes it’s hard: “Starbucks lovers” vs “Long list of ex lovers,” anyone?). Really listen to what they say.

I never realized just how much acceptance of harassment, stalking, and predatory behavior is laced throughout these songs, though it’s easy to miss if you’re paying more attention to the catchiness. I know I do, but separating the ear-worming tune from the words themselves is something I’ve been more deliberate about lately. The result is kind of terrifying.

Read these lyrics and tell me if you think I’m crazy:

Baby, I’m preying on you tonight

Hunt you down eat you alive

Just like animals, animals, like animals

Maybe you think that you can hide

I can smell your scent from miles

Just like animals, animals

(Maroon 5, ‘Animals’)

Everybody wanna steal my girl

Everybody wanna take my heart away

Couple billion in the whole wide world

Find another one cause she belongs to me

(One Direction, ‘Steal My Girl’)

Every breath you take

Every move you make

Every bond you break

Every step you take

I’ll be watching you

(Sting, ‘Every Breath You Take’)

Hike up your skirt a little more

and show your world to me

In a boys dream, in a boys dream

Oh I watch you there

through the window

And I stare at you

You wear nothing but you

wear it so well

(Dave Matthews Band, ‘Crash Into Me’)

These songs are treated as romance songs: swoon-worthy and awe-inducing. Robin Thicke’s rape anthem ‘Blurred Lines’ was even played at my wedding. These themes are nothing new, obviously, though it is tempting to blame the likes of Twilight and a certain BDSM novel that must not be named for making these themes ‘in’ again. The above song lyrics make for a very applicable soundtrack.

It’s a frightening thing to realize how much of my iPod contains songs like these, and how I internalized these messages as a rape survivor. While I’m not one to blame pop culture for others’ bad choices, it does make sense as to why it’s easy to justify the actions in the lyrics and consider that maybe you’re the one with the problem. Maybe you’re the one who’s too sensitive, who takes things a little too personally.

Even after I ended my abusive relationship and thought I “knew better,” I still directed blame toward myself when a popular, charismatic man cornered me at a picnic during my year at seminary, demanding to know why I wouldn’t go out with him. The fact that I had a boyfriend made no difference. For weeks after, I told no one except my roommate. When I grew increasingly uncomfortable seeing this person at campus parties, I started speaking up more. The response? “He probably didn’t mean it like that.”

So then how did he mean it? How does Maroon 5 mean it? And Dave Matthews, Sting, and how many others?

If the songs that romanticize these actions weren’t so catchy, would we still defend them so ardently?

Filed under: Rape Culture Tagged: Controversy, Fifty Shades of Grey, rape culture

Dear Church, here is where you lose me

FreeDigitalPhotos.net

Dear Church,

We used to have such a great relationship. I’d like to think we still do, it’s just strained a little bit – like all relationships at some point or another. The truth is, I’d really like to continue making this work. It’s through you I’ve found security, encouragement, and hope: important ingredients for a healthy, purposeful life. So I hope you listen to what I’m about to say here.

At first, I was taught that a relationship with God – and by extension, with you, Church – started with Jesus Christ: believing the Gospel message that he came and died to redeem the world of its sins through death on the cross. Believing this wasn’t the hard part, but rather what happened after that.

I became active in small groups that ended up debating issues such as evolution and its conflict with the creation narrative in Genesis. Considering that I was not raised in church and became a Christian in college, evolution was no conflict for me. But according to this small group, it “wasn’t Christian” to believe the world was not created in six literal days. Apparently, if the Genesis story fails, it undoes the entire arc of the Christian story.

Church, this was not part of the agreement plan I was originally told. I was taught Jesus – that’s it.

And then there’s the issue of homosexuality. I’m sorry, Church, but I just don’t understand what’s wrong with two consenting adults being in a loving, committed relationship who also happen to be of the same sex. I don’t understand how that hurts anyone. Sometimes you threw a bunch of Bible verses at me and said, “There, that’s why.” But I still had more questions, Church, and you started to doubt the sincerity of my faith because “The Bible said so” wasn’t clicking like you thought it should.

I also struggle with the doctrine of hell, Church. Oh, do I struggle – this, more than anything else, has the power to make or break my membership. I have so many more questions about this that, again, have been continually answered with clobber verse after clobber verse that still don’t get to the heart of my doubts. “People go to hell because they have unrepentant sins.” Okay, but if it pains God so much that his children go there, why not find another way? Why not find another system of justice? I’ve tried to ask these questions, Church, and got told to keep praying about it, because God is God and I’m not to question him. Except, you also told me that God wants to be known by his creation. If that’s true, why are my questions unacceptable?

It’s other things, too, Church. Just when I think I figured out how to live this Christian life correctly, I find there’s something else I’m doing wrong. I’m not evangelizing enough. I take birth control; I don’t even want kids. I don’t read the Bible as often as I should and I still don’t quite understand tithing, so when the plate comes around I let it pass. I take medication for my depression instead of simply praying it away. I have tattoos, I curse sometimes, I’m a frequent social drinker. I didn’t ‘save myself’ until marriage. I’m a feminist, can’t be paid enough to ever vote Republican (except that one time, but never again – don’t tell my father), I have no desire to make America a theocracy. I’m a perpetual heretic by someone’s definition, somewhere: my question is, whose interpretation is the ‘correct’ one? They all come from the same book.

It just seems like there’s always something I’m missing or doing wrong; always someone in the crowd waiting to call me out on it. Whether they mean to make me feel guilty or not, that’s what I feel. And it’s crippling my faith.

Church, this is where you’re starting to lose me. You say it’s about Jesus, but that’s not quite the truth, is it? If it is, why are so many people leaving you when a pastor says he’s voting in favor of gay marriage? Why do so many people leave you if they discover you’re lead by a woman? There are so many stipulations involved, and I’m losing count. I just don’t know how I can continue to keep up with your demands anymore.

In Judaism, you’re Jewish if you’re born to Jewish parents. That’s it. I so miss that simplicity, the utter lack of pressure to believe things a certain way.

I’m not going to quit yet, Church. I don’t want to quit – I want to rediscover the same passion and fervor I had when I first discovered you. I used to feel secure. I used to feel confident. I used to feel enough.

Here’s my fear, Church: If I don’t make the right choices based on information that is maddeningly difficult to discern, my eternal soul could suffer. How is that fair or loving?

I don’t know what’s happening, Church. All I ask from you is that you show me compassion as I continue to grapple and seek answers. Please don’t condemn me, or rest assured, you will lose me.

Still hanging,

SB

Filed under: Religion Tagged: Christian culture, Christianity, depression, evangelicals, grief, hell, Homosexuality, Judaism

One generation’s morality crisis is another generation’s “Eh, whatever”

Once upon a time, Christianity condoned and even encouraged owning black people as slaves. Today, we know better, and lament the behaviors of our ancestors. History tells us that every generation of Christians has had its own particular culture war. For our parents it was Jim Crow laws, and today, it’s gay marriage.

What do slavery, Jim Crow, and gay marriage have in common? Scripture has been used, and is still being used, to condemn all of the above. In the case of the former two, most Christians today admit that Scripture was twisted to justify those actions, and perhaps the enforcers weren’t really Good Christians. My question for Christians today is this: several generations from now, what’s to stop our great-great-grandchildren from maintaining that Christianity has no moral issues with being gay?

Before you reach for your Bible to point out the exact verses that say otherwise, remember that our ancestors did the exact same thing with slavery and persecutions of other minorities. We say that the Bible is the unchanging Word of God, but we haven’t let it remain unchanging. Not as much as we’d like to think. Otherwise, it wouldn’t be a handful of minority sects where the women only wear ankle-length dresses, never cut their hair, and push out as many babies as their bodies can bear. The Bible addresses these things, but somehow they’ve become non-issues over time. How many Christians do you know with pierced ears, dyed hair, and tattoos? I know a handful of pastors with all three.

I’m not making any moral proclamations on whether homosexuality is biblically sanctioned or not. But I will throw it out there that gay marriage will be a reality in all fifty States in the near future, and the Church will need to prepare itself for mass exoduses of once-faithful followers. We at least need to be honest with ourselves and admit that we are not as immune to cultural norms as we’d like to think: we no longer care (as much) about body ink and other modifications, most of us take man-made medicine when we don’t feel well, and go out for recreational drinks every now and then. One generation’s great moral crisis is another generation’s Eh, whatever.

All I’m asking is, how is homosexuality any different?

That’s an honest, sincere question.

Filed under: Religion Tagged: Christian culture, Christianity, Controversy, evangelicals, Homosexuality

This is my final post on Fifty Shades of Grey

Don’t worry, I’m not about to rehash all the reasons Fifty Shades of Grey reads like a manual for abusers – that’s been done thousands of times over.

I’m not about to shame every person I know who read the books, saw the movie, and enjoyed them. It’s just dumb to lose a bunch of friends over a series of poorly written literature (at least most everyone who’s read the series is unanimously agreed on that). This post isn’t for you.

I want to say something to the people who love the series, saw the movie, and have told me that I’m being whiny, oversensitive, and need a tougher backbone for being “offended” by this story. This post is for you.

Let me clarify one thing: I’m offended by the hideousness of Ugg boots and sentences that end with prepositions. To be “offended” is to find moderate distaste in something, but I don’t consider it personal (maybe that’s just me). I’m not “offended” by FSOG, I’m triggered by it; there is a difference.

What was my biggest error before writing out my thoughts and hitting the ‘send’ button: having a negative opinion on something many people love? Not being able to finish the first book because what I read gave me heart palpitations?

I’ve seen rebuttals that basically amount to “It’s just a story/fantasy! Don’t tell me what I can and cannot read! Stop being such a prude!” Here’s the thing, though: I never once called for banning or censoring this series. I’m a writer too; I know better than to ask that. But I did ask that people reread the series with a different set of eyes.

Considering the vast number of people who believe there’s unpunished, glorified abuse lurking in these pages, and considering that many who practice BDSM are saying the book’s portrayal is outright dangerous, these people deserve to be listened to. You don’t have to agree with them. The act of listening doesn’t require much, though sometimes trying to open a mental parachute so it stays open can be challenging. I know – I try to do this every time I log on to the Internet, and sometimes it’s freaking hard. Do it anyway.

I’ve had many “agree to disagree” discussions this week with close friends who surprised me with their view on Christian Grey. Okay, well, at least they listened to me, understood why I feel the way I do, and told me it’s okay. I treasure those people.

To those who heard my thoughts and retorted with the “Don’t like it? Don’t read it!” line anyway, all I have to say is this: you really disappointed me. I don’t know if I still consider you safe for me to open up to in the future if this is how you react now to a storyline that affects me personally. I don’t where we’ll go from here.

It should be obvious to anyone with eyes that FSOG is no longer “just a story.” It’s a cultural phenomenon. The moniker “Fifty Shades” is being used to market everything from perfume to wine to pizza, and the popularity has spawned hundreds of copycat novels. Like it or not, pop culture affects our perceptions of reality. We all know this, right? “It’s just a story” is no longer an acceptable rebuttal. It’s clearly way more than that, and the consequences for people who are triggered by it can be tragic: debilitating flashbacks (have you ever tried to function at work after having one of these?), panic attacks, anxiety, increased depression…

All I’m asking of you, FSOG fans, is that you be sensitive about it. That’s all.

Filed under: Feminism, Rape Culture, Writing & Publishing Tagged: censorship, Controversy, depression, Facebook, Feminism, Fifty Shades of Grey, rape culture, Writing

Navigating between indie and traditional publishing

You’ve read many of my reasons for choosing indie publishing, but today I want to open the blog space for another author as she explains her reasons for choosing to publish independently. Please welcome Natacha Guyot!

***

The first time I considered self-publishing was during my adolescence in the late 90’s. Things weren’t as easy back then. I didn’t even use the Internet yet but I read a couple of books about my self publishing options in France, especially as I still wrote in my mother tongue at this time. The idea to self-publish came from the genres I wrote in: Science Fiction and/or children literature. At this time, you had to go through an agency, but only one accepted these genres (especially Science Fiction). I wasn’t sure of what I wanted to do and eventually forego publishing my original fiction altogether.

Fast forward a few years and during my Ph.D., I look into getting academic articles published to establish myself as a scholar. This is no easy feat either, especially as my subjects aren’t so popular in France, because I study Science Fiction a lot, besides transmedia, gender studies and fan studies. What can I say? Science Fiction has been part of my world since I was a child and I don’t want to give up on what is my passion just to fit a mold, even when it eventually leads me to quit my Ph.D.

Academic papers helped me realize that writing because it is your calling is crucial. I knew when submitting papers that I wouldn’t earn money from this, but exposure and reputation, which are very important. It also made me discover how I love writing nonfiction, more than I would have ever expected, even with several research papers under my belt.

Submitting academic papers has taught me to deal with rejection. Most of my accepted papers weren’t at the first place I tried out. I also realized that just because a piece of writing was declined by someone didn’t mean that it was bad and that even when sometimes told I didn’t know my subject, it wasn’t always the reality. I am all for accepting suggestions and edits (as for the past years I have worked with proofreaders and editors) but I have learned to stick to my guns when I know they were true to what I believed, to the point of feeling strong enough to decline an offer of publication if I had to change my content on a drastic level. Believe me, it took me a few years to get there!

Publishing academic papers also allowed to eventually work as an editor on several volumes, both published traditionally and independently. I have also completely abandoned writing in French by now, and not simply because of how my topics are more interesting in English speaking countries and markets. This experience also gave me the courage to query a collection’s director with a nonfiction book proposal. I was lucky for a great collaboration and was blessed with a positive answer, which has turned out in my upcoming book Women in Science Fiction Television (Rowman & Littlefield) (http://natachaguyot.org/publications/).

In 2014, I began considering writing original fiction again (for the first time since 2005) as well as the possibility of finally publishing my Science Fiction novella for children (which I kept in its French version). I read a lot about writing, publishing and book marketing, but I don’t feel ready to query an agent at this point. I might one day, but now isn’t the right time.

I still took my first dive into self publishing, made so much easier now thanks to contemporary tools! Against all odds, it was for a nonfiction book, A Galaxy of Possibilities: Representation and Storytelling in Star Wars (http://amzn.to/1D5r0n6). This collection of essays stemmed from individual papers receiving negative answers from various academic publications. I thought that I was sitting on a good collection and would directly self publish, especially as I have been building my blog and online presence (http://natachaguyot.org/contact/) for a couple of years.

I have now several projects (fiction and nonfiction) I project to self publish on Amazon (as I am sticking to this platform so far). Yet, I haven’t given up on traditional publishing. I have at least one nonfiction book I want to go the traditional publishing route. I am also pondering short story competitions. Overall, I find it very exciting that as authors we have several options, which aren’t mutually exclusive. None of them is easy, because hard work and perseverance will always be at the heart of our lives.

Natacha Guyot is a French researcher, writer and public speaker. She holds two Master’s degrees: Film and Media Studies (Paris III Sorbonne Nouvelle) and Digital Culture and Technology (King’s College London). Her main fields of interest are Science fiction, Gender Studies, Children Media and Fan Studies. She considers herself a feminist, a fangirl, a bookworm, a vidder, a gamer and a cat lover. You can find more about her projects at natachaguyot.org and follow her on Twitter @natachaguyot.

Filed under: Writing & Publishing Tagged: Indie Author Life, self-publishing, Writing

What evangelicals fail to understand about consent

Yes, this is another post inspired by Fifty Shades of Grey, but it’s not really about Fifty Shades of Grey. With bloggers freaking out in anticipation of the film release, Dannah Gresh and Juli Slattery – authors of Pulling Back the Shades – want to give away copies of their books to women who want to see the movie, in hopes of educating them about unhealthy patterns in intimate relationships.

I’ve reviewed Pulling Back the Shades here. If Gresh and Slattery’s book was only about recognizing abusive relationship patterns, I’d be completely on board with their project. Unfortunately, having read their book, they swerved their focus from recognizing the differences between love and abuse and instead talk about how feminism has ruined the idea of submission: women are ‘supposed’ to submit to traditional gender roles, not to being tied up.

This is where I, a former evangelical, go tsk-tsk because evangelical churches have such great track records of handling abuse allegations. From expelling victims of rape at Bob Jones University for seducing their assailants to championing Mark Driscoll as he preaches that women ‘owe’ their husbands oral sex, it’s clear that there’s a big misunderstanding in this circle when it comes to consent: what it is, why it matters.

The abusive practices of Christian Grey need to be explained to religious and secular audiences alike, as both groups sometimes lack understanding of what abuse looks like. But many evangelical bloggers will have you believe that all these problems stem from having sex out of its proper context – marriage – and embracing porn, not because of ignoring consent (and I’m not saying I think porn is good, by the way. I don’t like it, and it can have extremely damaging effects on relationships, but you can’t use it as a scapegoat for all abuse cases).

Passages like Ephesians 5 are beautiful in their depiction of mutual submission: husbands and wives engaging in pure, selfless love for one another. But for victims of abuse – the real issue here – words like “submission,” “servant,” and phrases like “giving himself/herself up” are triggering. For a significant portion of the church population, these words conjure up flashbacks of moments when their consent was dismissed completely; sometimes within marriage.

Christians and churches need to wake up and realize that marital sex does not always equate to healthy, biblical sex. A book series as popular as Fifty Shades, which boasts many fans who call themselves Christians, makes an excellent tool to begin this discussion of what healthy sexual relationships look like. Unfortunately, I have read more blog posts by evangelicals criticizing what consenting couples choose to do in their own bedrooms rather than address the issue of consent itself. Why else do so many non-Christians hate these books? Hint: it’s not because the characters hook up before they’re married.

I would hate to see this much-needed dialogue turn into a debate about BDSM between consenting couples, which the church has no business policing, and not about the real issue at hand: what abuse looks like in real life. Given the number of people in the BDSM community who say this series misrepresents what it’s all about, it’s a dialogue worth having.

Filed under: Feminism, Rape Culture, Religion Tagged: Christian culture, Christianity, Controversy, evangelicals, Feminism, Fifty Shades of Grey, rape culture

The self-indulgent, ageist memoir

I am of the opinion that everyone has a story to tell – that doesn’t mean everyone should tell it, though.

When I teach memoir to students in my writing class, we talk a lot about the ‘why’: Why is this the story you are telling? What have you taken away from this experience? If you want to take a reader on the journey through your life, there has to be a pretty compelling reason.

Some memoirs are more successful than others. In order for a memoir to work – for me at least – it has to combine three elements: story, character and writing.

I read the above passage in a Goodreads review for Wild by Cheryl Strayed. Maybe this practice is hypocritical, as an author myself, but I prefer reading negative reviews to positive ones. Maybe because the positive reviews are already splashed on the front cover, and are the reason I picked up the book in the first place. Negative reviews – the ones that are nuanced and well-written, not the trolling THIS BOOK SUCKS DON’T EVER READ IT kind – intrigue me because often it’s the aspects of a book I liked most that turned off other readers. Human subjectivity is fascinating.

In the case of Wild, many negative reviews loved the idea of Strayed’s story, but not the execution. And regardless of which memoir it is, there is always a review that is going to accuse the author of being “self-centered”: “There’s too much navel-gazing and not enough story.” “I wanted to learn more about the Pacific Crest Trail than the author’s troubled past.”

If that’s the case, I have to wonder…why did you choose to pick up a book from a genre that is, by definition, “self-centered”? Memoirs are about the self!

I wrote my first memoir at 22 (and re-worked and re-published it at 25): an age that, by many people’s standards, is far too young for this genre. One thing I respect about the review above is the emphasis on story in a memoir: it shouldn’t read like a book report if you want it to be good. The problem for many twenty-somethings is not having lived enough story to fill up pages and captivate readers. But that raises the question of how story is defined: are we talking life experience? Anecdotes of wisdom? Lessons learned? The twenties are a perfect time period for those things.

Granted, I’ve read other memoirs by twenty-somethings that came off as whiny. I attribute this to the writing style and not the story being told. Anybody can whine, but not everyone can write. To dismiss a person’s story because they haven’t “lived enough” is a subjective criticism at best, and flat-out ageist at worst.

In my case, I wrote Confessions because I had only read one other life story that resembled my own. I wrote the book I wished I could have read eight years ago. Readers have asked me since if I have considered another one, and my answer is yes…but if I do write one, it likely won’t see the light of day for another ten to fifteen years. This is because my life right now has more questions than solid answers, and I know this would not make for good reading (at least not a book I would want to read). This is reflective on my age somewhat, but I could just as easily experience life-altering questions of faith at 36 as I do at 26. My hope in waiting is that, by age 36, or 42, or 50, I’ll hopefully have more solid conclusions than I do now, thus making a better, well-rounded book.

And what’s more, sometimes it’s fascinating to read two memoirs by the same author that are completely different in belief and conviction. That’s more representative of real life than anything else.

Do you think memoirs are self-indulgent, and how much life should you have lived before writing one?

Filed under: Writing & Publishing Tagged: Author Sarahbeth Caplin, Confessions of a Prodigal Daughter, Controversy, self-publishing, Writing

Dear Pops, here’s what you missed

Dear Dad,

I feel slightly silly typing this, because I know you can’t read it – though some part of me hopes that, in a way, you can. Many things have changed recently, starting with the fact that I’m not legally a Caplin anymore (though I’m still putting that name on my book covers, don’t worry). I know you knew that was going to happen, and your blessing meant so much. Josh is amazing, Pop. You know how sometimes, kids are told to marry people who share the traits of their opposite-gendered parent? In some cases, that’s very bad advice, but in my life, it was the best advice I’ve ever taken. I see a lot of similar traits you had in Joshua: he’s perpetually optimistic, at times annoyingly so. He chooses to see the good in people. He even sleeps with one arm above his head, like you used to.

I wish you could have been there at the wedding, but we made sure you were, in your own way.

And while my first dance was incredible (you know we danced to Tale as Old as Time from Beauty and the Beast?) I couldn’t help thinking of that time we danced to Pachabel Canon in the dressing room suite at Catan’s Bridal, and how we made all the employees cry. I look at that picture quite a bit, but I still can’t watch that video. I hope you understand.

You would also be so proud to know that I got a book deal, for the first time ever. My next novel will be published with Booktrope, and as soon as I got my acceptance email I thought of you saying I told you so and cried. Seriously, Popsicle, I wrote you off (see what I did there?!) when you told me it would happen some day: Big deal, all parents have to say that stuff about their kids, they’re such precious, talented snowflakes, yada yada yada. Mom posted this picture on Facebook, and I don’t remember what we were talking about, but seeing as I’m wearing my Panera uniform and judging by that…I don’t even know what you call it expression on my face, I’m guessing we were talking about the future, and my fear that I’d never be able to support myself doing what I love most.

We had that conversation many times, and I remember how you’d tilt your head and sing to me, Slow down you crazy child/You’re so ambitious for a juvenile. There was a period where I had to avoid all Billy Joel songs, for obvious reasons. Now it’s almost all I can listen to. I remember you standing in your custom-made kitchen singing I love you just the way you aaaaaaaaare! using a ladle for a microphone, and how you’d crack up when I rolled my eyes at you.

You never apologized for who you were, Dad. Ever. People like to tell me I’m a lot like you, which is a ridiculously awesome compliment, but I don’t think it’s completely true. You had every reason to despise life and curse it all away, but you didn’t. Maybe you felt that way at times, but you always told me I had a choice to accept the hard shit and turn it into fertilizer, or hide away and wallow. Unfortunately, wallowing is so much easier. I imagine what you would say to me if you knew some of the coping mechanisms I’d chosen. You’d tell me I’m better than that, and you’d be absolutely right. Because I’m your kid, dammit. I’m always your kid (“Even when I’m 93?!” “Yes Whipper Snipper, even when you’re 93”).

I try to be more creative with the ways I honor you and your memory. I wrote a letter to your surgeon thanking him for all he did to keep you with us for the last 13 years. I’m giving you the dedication page of my next novel – the one you told me was possible – all to yourself. I listen to the songs you loved and smile remembering what a goofball you were. I don’t know yet if parenthood is for me, but Josh said he’d be okay naming our son David. He’s not 100% on board with Davita if we have a girl, but I (hopefully) have another 5 years or so to get him to change his mind. I asked you once if you recommended this whole parenting thing, and you grinned in that impish way of yours and said “Sweetie, it’s the best.” You always did know best, so I’ll take your word for it (PS. I’m really pissed off I cannot discuss the finale of Parenthood with you. Like really really).

You should have been 59 today, Poppy. You should have had another 34 years with Mom. There are so many “Should haves” but I meant what I said in your office that one time: I’d rather have you as my Dad for 25 years than anyone else’s for a lifetime.

Missing you today and every day.

-Sassy

And just in case your feels haven’t been wrecked enough, see also: Lessons My Father Taught Me

Filed under: Other stuff Tagged: Author Sarahbeth Caplin, cancer, grief, Writing