Sore Loser

Last year at the start of 2024 Vocal hosted the #200 Challenge that asked entries to explore the aspirations we Vocalites had for our upcoming year on Vocal. I had already determined a goal for myself of entering every Vocal+ challenge with an entry I was proud of. I almost reconsidered that goal immediately when the #200 challenge was announced. I write fiction and poetry, not personal essays! But I completed an entry and have for every Vocal+ challenge since. And I have been proud of most of my entries, not all, but most. I suppose it is fitting that the final challenge of 2024 (based on deadline) would require me once again to drag myself out of my comfort zone to write one more personal essay. So here we go.

I'd been drawing blanks on how I wanted to respond to this prompt since it was announced. Then a rereading of a favorite poem by Elizabeth Bishop provided me with a launching point: a label of sorts to something I feel I've been learning not only this year but throughout my life:

Learning to Lose

This lesson has never been a fun one and just when I think I'm getting the hang of it I find myself back at square one. No one likes to lose. The pang of absence or of defeat is a painful one. But loss comes whether we like it or not doesn't it?

As previously mentioned, this consideration of loss was prompted by a poem: my favorite villanelle, "One Art" by Elizabeth Bishop and upon a recent reread it resonated once again. The repeated line of "The art of losing isn’t hard to master" captures this idea of practicing loss as a way of making it easier. Makes sense in theory.

I can look back and think about my resume. I've lost cherished items like when I was a kid and left the stuffed purple cow that used to be my mom's in a hotel room. Growing up playing volleyball and continuing to play to this day I've lost so many games the total has to have four digits! I've moved to different cities and lost the sense of home that comes with being rooted in a place. I've lost the closeness of friends who were like sisters until the transience of our twenties carried them away. And I've lost loved ones to old age, sickness, and tragedies.

Practice makes perfect, so I should be getting close. But even as Elizabeth Bishop admits in her final stanza, some losses are never easy.

"—Even losing you (the joking voice, a gesture

I love) I shan’t have lied. It’s evident

the art of losing’s not too hard to master

though it may look like (Write it!) like disaster."

So sure, the little losses I can take in stride with some experience under my belt. A sweatshirt disappearing from the sidelines of the court in the clutches of some sticky fingers. No disaster. Losing a volleyball game by an embarrassing margin. No sweat, it'll be forgotten the next day.

But losing those things that really matter: friendships and loved ones. Grief from those losses hits like a ton of bricks no matter how many times it happens. And leaves a soreness that never fully dissipates.

As years pass there are new sources of loss that can never be fully prepared for. This past year has included a few of those for me. 2024 constitutes most of my first year of marriage. It has been both the best year of my life and the hardest. One of the biggest factors that has made it so difficult has been the loss of my church community that had been such an integral part of my life for seven years. Losing such an important source of fellowship and support during a season that has been so full of changes has left me with a deep ache and sense of loneliness. Despite this loss though I have gained much in a new church family that I know will develop into something beautiful with time. Beyond that I've gained a husband who loves me so dearly and is willing to comfort me on the hard days. Through this experience I have learned that it's okay to mourn the loss of a good thing as long as it doesn't stop me from moving forward in continuing to pursue good things.

The other new source of loss this year has occurred in the realm of writing. It's been a difficult one to navigate. The losses in this area of life are not a big as those ones that really matter and yet they don't fall into the trivial category either. I love writing and being a writer has always been my dream. Because I want it so bad the losses in challenges where I've gotten my hopes up have been tough to swallow. The form letter rejections from queried agents sting no matter how many of them you get. These writing defeats appear like large neon signs that say "Idiot! Why did you ever think you were good enough?" It's as though I'm about to lose a lifelong companion, because that's what my writing dream has been.

But a loss or a hundred losses don't define me as a writer. I'm learning that this writing journey and the dream that guides it are really just beginning. I have a lot of room to grow and losing is going to be part of the process. Just as with the pain of losing a source of community in order to gain a new one, these losses are opportunities to reflect and consider what I can learn from them.

Losing in any capacity will never be easy, but it has a purpose, even if it takes a lifetime or beyond to see it. No matter the pain it causes there can always be hope in a future victory. I think Bishop was on to something when she called it an "art" for there is no science to losing, but beauty to be found in looking at the bigger picture. So with each new loss I'll remind myself not to pixel gaze and trust the Artist to complete His masterpiece.