Here in the Northern Hemisphere, the sunflowers are blooming, the children are back in school, and with Autumn in the air, the days and nights are cooler and damper. During the month of September, as we approach the end of the year, I’ll be doing something different—talking about endings. And hopefully, striking up a conversation. Because we don’t talk about endings enough.
Endings were never my forte. I have a difficult time saying goodbye, whether to people, places, institutions, professions, stories, books, movies, TV series, you name it. And, as you know, that which we resist persists. Meaning, we bring into our lives, over and over, that which we cannot handle. Until we can.
And hopefully in the process, we learn and grow.
As my sixty-eighth summer winds down, this author will share her experience, strength, and hope regarding endings in general, and more specifically, The End. As you can imagine, I have a little bit of practice.
I have lived in well over twenty locales in six states around the U.S. I started out as an file clerk, got my BBA, worked in accounting for years, got my CPA, a real estate license, a securities brokerage license, worked in marketing and advertising, then back to school for a Doctorate of Chiropractic (DC), passed the boards, got my chiropractic license and practiced in California, Georgia, and Idaho, then retired and moved to Wyoming where I now live in poverty, grateful for my social security check, though it is rather measly and doesn’t cover my expenses.
Still, after working my ass off for fifty years, it was hard to stop, to say goodbye. Not to the toil, but to the mask/provider role, the one that ensured a roof over my head, the lights and heat worked, and I had transportation and food for another day. This was a bugbear, and the one I’m still living, three years in.
So let’s talk about that ending first, starting with the pluses.
I feel rich. Why? Because I no longer have to live by a time clock, I don’t have to leave the house unless I want or need, I can go to bed early, rise in the dark to greet the sun, eat sparingly, and spend as much time with Rambo as I want. Plus, my health is decent without medication, I get to write, read, watch movies, or do nothing. As long as it’s at home and costs zilch.
That said, I am living in an ongoing ending of sorts, one I haven’t quite come to grips with, especially monetarily. Because like Jane Fonda says, “I don’t retire, I just keep reinventing myself.” But this iteration is not contributing to room and board, much less covering the shortfall.
So, while I may have morphed into an author, this latest alter ego isn’t keeping me afloat.
I had hoped getting more books published would solve the problem and give me my ending. Or at least help. I now have five and am working on the sixth. Would y’all please go out there and buy my books? Or gift me a tea? God, I hate begging. That’s part of the reason I have a hard time marketing my books—which is a totally different (though related) conversation.
We’re talking about endings and how I learned not to hate them. Over the next few weeks, I will share how I began despising the manuscript I went on to publish years later, and how much trouble I had ending that first book of the trilogy, and the second one, too. Same for a women’s lit manuscript I wrote in 2010. It still sits, waiting for The End. But, I promise, by Book Three of the trilogy, the issue had been somewhat tamed.
So, though I have accumulated a substantial amount of experience with endings over the last sixty-eight years, you can see I am by no means an expert. But I can tell you that I no longer delay watching the final episode of a series, or reading the last ten pages of a book in which I am invested, or ending a manuscript.
And that, my friend, is a big deal.
If there is anything you would like to know about endings, feel free to ask. I’m not shy about sharing my experience, nor letting you know if I have none in that particular area. And, though being friends with The End is not all sunshine and roses, I much prefer that to dreading it like Death.
Now, it’s your turn. Confession time. How is your relationship with endings? Have you recognized it as being an issue for you? How do you feel when you reach the end of a book? Or movie? Or vacation time? Do you have any wisdom you would like to share?
Until next week, Olivia/O.J.
From my heart to yours, Olivia/O. J.❤️
P.S. If you enjoy my weekly essays from the heart, you might also enjoy my fiction. I’ve linked previews below.
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⭐Now, here are those previews I promised. Enjoy!✨
Endings are important to me but more so for the reason that I haven't meaningfully finished something that I've started. I've hopped around, going from fad to fad, burning out in the process. That's why it's so important for me to finish my WIP.
I actually know what's going to happen; I think about it everyday and wonder how I'll twist the story to get to this end. For me, the greatest achievement will be finishing a story and telling myself that it's the end.