19. In The Words of E.T.
Musing Interruptus is a podcast for sharing thoughts and stories and enjoying idiomatic phrases and words. You can read along; the transcription is in the description of this episode. The idiomatic expressions are in italics. Try to get the meaning from the context and then look them up to see if you were right. If you like it, share it, but more importantly, continue the conversation. The music is called Kallaloe by Blue Dot.
Hello, Welcome. I’m Renée Valentina and this is Musing Interruptus. Today, In The Words of E.T.
Ouch. Eliot. ET phone home. Pretty impressive vocabulary for an extraterrestrial stranded on Earth with some kids in California. I think I understood what heartbreak looks like with ET. You don’t need to see it to know when you are feeling it. But sometimes, when it is happening, it helps to have the words to let it flow out and away from your insides. Especially when they have been blown to pieces. Ouch. Onomatopeya at its finest.
I’ve found myself invoking ET throughout my youth and adult life to make sense of the big feelings when they overwhelm even the comic in me. The moments I’ve been rendered speechless have been saved by the words of a fictitious alien. A word that can connect me back to the life force within to make sense of the information that has seemingly vacuumed the air out of the room, leaving high-pitch tinnitus to drill through my brain and eyes.
I reckon those times cannot be planned for. The bearer of bad news is not always aware that it is bad news for the receiver. Other times, they know. They do their best to deliver the news like ripping off a bandaid. The faster, the better. I’ve gotten text messages, phone calls, Zoom calls, and in-person deliveries. In the end, you have to face the music on your own. It is nice when someone delivers the news in person. Parents do that, mostly. And your boss when you lose your job. The doctor’s office is a great place to get bad news. I say that because you can associate the bad news with that place, whereas if you are at your favorite restaurant, having a great time, and then get a call from your doctor, with bad news, you might not feel like finishing your desert, even if it is ice cream.
Once bad news has been delivered, it is time to process it. This is the least bit of fun, next to getting the news. Getting through the different defense mechanisms that try to protect our brains from pain is like solving a puzzle. Sometimes it is easy, other times, you have to really set your mind to connecting with the sadness, pain, and fear. I see it as piercing my chest hard enough to get through the very tough armor (I think my armor is very tough, like chainmail and alien goop), the over-analyzing, and joke-making. ET’s words help cut through the bullshit. Ouch becomes the key to zoning in on what was set aside, quieted, suffocated under pleasantries. The bad news does not generally stop at the bad news, but what the loss represents. There is always more to what is being lost than what meets the eye.
The healing part is a whole other ballgame. When facing the void and a broken heart, paracetamol can take the edge off. I promise.
As I speak to my father on the phone and listen to his over-analyzing, I can hear the fear and anger in his voice. I’m quick to remind him that he doesn’t need to put on a show for me. We have been talking about life since I was born. I ask him the questions he used to ask me, where does it hurt? How does it hurt? I remind him and myself, it is ok to not explain away the feelings and just feel. Let the angries bubble up and the boo hoos pour down our faces. Being strong doesn’t mean we are stoic. Do as I say, Daddy, not as I do.
As for me, ouch will do, and I’ll chase it down with a paracetamol.
Thank you for listening. Continue reading
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