I wrote this a few months back, and it’s been sitting in my drafts folder ever since because I wasn’t quite sure where to go with it.
I went to a household gathering last week, the first gathering of the clan since Battlemoor of last year. (I didn’t go to Battlemoor this year, for a whole host of reasons that center on time, money, and emotional energy.) And I had a wonderful time, and I’m so glad I went, but I also found myself at one point just sitting in the dark empty back yard sobbing my head off.
I’ve been out of the game for so long. I feel so out of touch. There are new people coming up, doing amazing work and getting attention from the peer community, who I’ve never met. There are people who’ve been friends with my friends for twenty years, who’ve moved into kingdom from elsewhere or begun playing again while I’ve been out of the game, there have been divorces and remarriages while I’ve been gone, there are all of these new faces in what I think of as my established social circles. The children are all a foot taller than when I saw them last. I feel so lost.
Here’s the thing:
If I had been elevated before I was ready, I could have taken some time to process and reflect and figure out what that was going to mean for me and embrace my peerage in my own time.
If Juan had died, I could have picked up the pieces and moved on with the help of my friends and chosen family.
If I had started grad school, I could have put my SCA life on hold and come back to it as though I’d never left.
If I had moved to a new group, I could have connected with friends in the new place and found my feet pretty quickly.
But for all four of these things to happen at once –
The game as I knew it is gone forever; there is no coming back from that. There is only moving forward.
And as I can see the end of grad school from where I’m sitting, as I think about what life after graduation looks like and where the SCA fits into that and what I want to do with my SCA life – and I just don’t know.
I’ve simultaneously changed kingdoms and taken a break before, but that didn’t come with the attendant pressure of coming back as a peer. In fact at that time I was specifically and intentionally presenting myself as a new arrival, someone very conscious of not knowing the terrain. I can’t do that anymore.
As long as I couldn’t figure out how to finish that post, I couldn’t bring myself to update this blog at all, because I wasn’t going to let it turn into a series of unfinished ideas and whinging and unproductive navelgazing. I wasn’t going to talk until I had something to say or some idea of where the SCA fits into my future or whether there is any point in continuing to document this journey at all.
Somehow, in the intervening time since I started that post, I’ve begun to make sense of it.
At that time I was more or less going on momentum, trying to continue to do and enjoy the things that we did together, and it wasn’t working. It brought me no joy and just made me lonely and sad and confused. I’m beginning to understand that I cannot live my life exactly as it was when he was here, except with the big gaping hole where he used to be. I can’t fill that hole.
It’s strange to say I’ve only just begun to grieve, two and a half years on, but in some ways it’s true. The first year I was just too shattered to do anything except keep my head above water – stay employed, stay in school, pay the bills, survive. The second year I was consumed by a frighteningly black depression. It’s only now that I’m starting to actually do stuff, I’m figuringing out how to hold space for memory and legacy and continuing to do the things I used to enjoy in Juan’s company and continuing to bring to life some of the plans that we made, within the framework of something new and different.
I’ve been waiting for that to take shape, and I think it has. I have a new, big, forever kind of project, the kind of project that has the potential to hold my interest and generate a constant flow of smaller projects for the rest of my life. Something that he would have adored if we’d ever gotten around to it, that we danced around the edges of, but was not actually part of our life together in a significant way.
I’ve been possessed, recently, of a fascination with moveable type, printing, and Renaissance book arts, and particularly the spread of printed literature in vernacular languages and art printmaking across Europe in the 15th and 16th centuries.
I’ve been circling on this for a long time.
I’ve played around with block printing for years, probably decades. I took an history of incunabula class in grad school that I loved madly, and I did bookbinding in college, and of course I’ve done C&I for a few years now too. I got very deeply into papermaking for about a year and a half… twenty years ago? More? I always wanted to get back to it and never did. I love books as objects, I love typography, I love slow fussy detail processes, I love everything that goes into this. I can put all the late-period Spanish knowledge I acquired to use. I can make useful things. I can teach.
One of my dearest friends started talking about this on Facebook, and a bunch of us who have all had this sort of ambient, latent interest in the subject for a long time said hell yes! in one voice, and formed a working group, and have been geeking on it for about two months now. And with this one thing, it all came back. I’m interested again, in a way I haven’t been in a long, long time. I’m making garb. I’m going to events. I’m talking to people and making plans. I have points of navigation again.