How Reading Your Stories and Engaging with Them Helped Me Recover
A Surprising Source of Light
Grief is a strong emotion that can occasionally feel overpowering, like a tempest that obscures our senses.
When I went through something similar, I was alone and had a hard time holding onto hope.
During these times of struggle, I came across an unexpected source of light — your stories.
At first, adding your stories to my reading list seemed like an everyday task.
And I would often check your profiles again, in search of your About page and fresh stories.
I found moments of comfort in music, but it was your words that started to ground me by giving me a sense of clarity and connection.
The Therapeutic Power of Your Stories
Initially, I read these stories almost mechanically, not really absorbing anything.
However, I wasn’t a clapper and runner.
I was sad and confused.
And… as I persisted, something changed.
I began to highlight important fragments and kept coming back to them.
Your words gradually started to shine through the mist of my sadness and offered a glimmer of hope and understanding.
Overcoming grief requires being completely present and centered.
Overcoming grief requires being completely present and centered.
I made an effort to use all of my senses and concentrate on the present.
But I needed more; I had to connect with my spirit and pay tribute to my lost uncle.
Rest in peace.
Finding Strength Through Grief: How a Quote and Creativity Inspired My Healing
Amidst my melancholy, I remembered my uncle’s amusing and motivating statement, “We Romanians are a nation of women.”
Even if it wasn’t accurate in a strict sense, it had a deep meaning for me and encouraged me to endure the suffering.
Decided to find a way to utilize my grief for good, I worked out, cleaned my house, read some excellent books, and began writing motivational pieces like this one.
And… to honor my uncle, I also planned a special literary project that I will eventually share.
From Despair to Hope: How Your Stories Guided My Recovery
The issue is… in June 2024, I just had to contend with the added misery of losing three dear friends and mentors in literature, in one month.
As some of you may be aware, I used psychological strategies to eliminate negativity from my life.
You may get more details here:
It was forty degrees Celsius, but I worked with renewed vigor, listened to music, and swam enthusiastically to shed some extra pounds.
After all, I don’t look like the slim blonde lady in the photo below.
Regretfully, I was unfortunately hit with further bad news a few days ago, on July 18.
But that’s not really the point at all.
The Most Important Thing Is the Light You Brought into My Life.
Your stories were my compass points, pulling me back from the edge and inspiring and uplifting me.
I listened to Sia’s “Unstoppable” and studied your stories with new eyes, purposefully highlighting certain fragments, and showing a strong connection to them.
After a while, my tears stopped, my mood improved, and I started writing again on my artsy-fartsy fantasy.
Now… I want to express my sincere gratitude to all of you.
I’ve found solace and inspiration in your stories, which have enabled me to get through my loss.
Therefore, I invite you to explore a piece I wrote around 2010, included in one of my traditionally published books, Anti-Memoirs of a Muse.
I hope it offers you the same delight and inspiration that your stories have bestowed upon me.
The Miracle
Dan was floating through his bohemian routine, devoting most of his time to his buddies.
One day, a friend from the countryside came to see him, accompanied by a group.
They wore torn clothes and had unclean, smoke-bloated faces.
A fire had erupted in their settlement, and they had narrowly escaped.
“We experienced a great miracle,” one of them said.
“Amid the chaos, the painted saints descended from their positions and shattered the eastern wall of the church. A miraculous spring of milk began to flow, quenching the flames. And… when the saints resumed their places on the walls, they assumed a different stance — an Egyptian posture, if you catch my drift — to bear witness to the miraculous events.”
“Yeah, so everyone has two left hands and two left feet,” Dan commented, laughing.
“That’s right, each one has two left hands and two left feet,” confirmed the visitor. “How did you know?”
“How did I know???”
They drank some Bananasoca Cocosola, which made everyone cheer up.
***
Dan awoke one night to find himself, once again, a student on a summer internship restoring a village church.
He lived nearby in a rented room.
His girlfriend came every week with backpacks full of food, packages, and boxes of cakes.
With the first rays of Sunday light, they would sit at the table and then make love until the evening twilight chased away their gentle sun.
Late at night, they went for walks over the hills.
The students were restoring the frescoes, and for preparing calcium caseinate, they received cottage cheese.
They consumed dozens of kilos, and their supervisor regularly took the surplus cheese home, leaving them with only the essentials.
One Friday, the professor left but not before asking them to quickly finish the hands and feet of all the saints, as they would start working on their heads the following week.
“The sound is the road sloping towards the monastery,” explained Aye-aye, who unexpectedly appeared in Dan’s dream.
The August heat made them dizzy.
The scaffolding creaked at night, and during the day, the planks softened under their steps, creating a rain of splinters that seemed to collapse not onto the ground but into the sky.
Often, they saw their boots projected upwards — the Icarus disease.
They worked with scorched lips and heated flesh that seemed to merge with the wall.
The tools became an extension of themselves, and the work flowed effortlessly.
The evening arrived with the herding sounds and the rhythmic beating of the semantron.
They paradoxically suffered from both chills and fevers.
Fresh cheese was their remedy for their burning spines and the pain etched on their faces.
They were looking forward to the next day — a relaxing and enjoyable day at the lake.
However, early in the morning, they went to admire their work, only to be bewildered by the sight of left feet and left hands painted everywhere.
Since a fixed fresco couldn’t be altered, they were held responsible before the villagers, the priest, and the faculty.
It was a horrific Sunday that ended in a massive brawl.
The next day, they were hungover, limping, and bruised.
They expected to be scolded, maybe even expelled.
Sitting grumpily on logs in the churchyard, instead of looking down, their heads fell back as if pushed by an invisible spring.
It was quite comical.
Who ever saw a sad person staring at the sky with their head thrown back?
So, they began to laugh.
They laughed because their underwear was caked with hardened paint, they smelled like spoiled cheese, their hair was a mess, and their faces looked almost devilish.
They couldn’t even tie their shoelaces without lifting their feet above their heads.
“What’s up with you?” asked the supervisor.
“We did it,” Dan admitted, pointing to the mistake.
“Ah… those lefties? Don’t worry, kids. No one will notice, and if they do, they’ll probably think of it as a miracle,” the supervisor assured them.
And it turned out he was absolutely right.
It was considered a miracle…
Well, that was a fragment from the novel traditionally published in 2016.
In reality, Dan and I got married in 2021, and we’re about to celebrate three wonderful years together.
Hooray for happy endings!
Now, that’s what I call a miracle.
So… let’s concentrate on the positive things in our life because life is good — oh… life is wonderful!
❤️🌟🌹🌺🌼 💌💝 💞💓 💖🎉🌹🌺🌼🌷📖💖🌺📝🌼💌🌷🌿
❤️🌟🌹🌺🌼 💌💝 💞💓 💖🎉🌹🌺🌼🌷📖💖🌺📝🌼💌🌷🌿
❤️🌟🌹🌺🌼 💌💝 💞💓 💖🎉🌹🌺🌼🌷📖💖🌺📝🌼💌🌷🌿
❤️🌟🌹🌺🌼 💌💝 💞💓 💖🎉🌹🌺🌼🌷📖💖🌺📝🌼💌🌷🌿
Dear Amazing Medium Community,
Please, clap, highlight, respond, and… stay tuned for the next story… But, most importantly, a profound thank you to each one of you. Your unwavering support has been invaluable. Let’s Create Magic Together!
❤️🌟😊👍🏼🙌🏼💖🌈🎉🤗👏🏼🌻💕✨🥰👌🏼🌸🙏🏼💗👋🏼🌟💕🙏🏼🌸💗
Julia Kalman 