Episode Notes
This week’s poem looks at a moment of recognition that a familiar, intimate pain is coming—one that can make us more vulnerable to various forms of relapse.
Through the personification of January and March, this episode is a personal one from me, exploring the pain of remembering a bone-deep pain and what it’s like to prepare for it, such as the anniversary of a loss, birthday, death, suicide attempt, or the beginning of a sobriety journey.
My hope is that the poem allows us to think about the question: “Why wade through the ache and loneliness every year?” Perhaps we were never alone, to begin with. Perhaps we wouldn’t be stronger if we didn’t have to remember. Perhaps we’re stronger if we do remember, together, and fumble forward in a way we wouldn’t have been able to if we didn’t feel.
Here's an excerpt of the poem:
> I, March, nod.
> “January, I know your waiting
> isn’t the same as
> November’s waiting—
> where the joy is in the waiting
> rather than the waiting for joy
> to return. If it was ever there.”
>
> “But don’t forget that
> memory doesn’t stop
> for death. Nor does the life
> of relationship, as known
> by looking into a face
> and seeing the layering
> of ancestral features
> that built it.”
Listen to this week's episode to hear the full poem! If you’d like to share your moment or memory on the podcast, please head to tinyurl.com/bravingthewaves.

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