AMOR FATI by Spice Walker

AMOR FATI Issue I a zine for lovers of fate

love of one

mor fati is a Latin phrase that means “love of fate” or “love of one’s” fate. It is used to describe an attitude in which one sees everything that happens in one’s life, including suffering and loss, as good. It describes an acceptance of the events or situations that occur in one’s life. There is no doubt that we all experience times that are extremely difficult, but it is important to ackownledge all that we can gain from these situations - to shine light on what develop from our negatives. I asked people to share a story or a time when they looked back on an event and eventually gained something positive from it. What follows is the collection of those submissions. This is for you. This is for everyone. This is for the love of one’s fate.

e’s fate

he most valuable benefit of working through challenges is an increased ability to empathize with others who are struggling. One of the most important things that makes us human is the way that we connect with one another, so I believe that one’s capacity for empathy is a vital reflection of a life well lived. Several years ago, I dated a man with clinical depression. He was particularly affected by seasonal affective disorder (SAD). I had never experienced symptoms of depression before, so even though I wanted to understand and empathize with him, all I could do was sympathize. I was ashamed of the times that his depression grated on me. I had been raised in a society that constantly spouts the idea that people must choose to be happy, and that to be unhappy is to be selfish and lazy; this was a difficult idea for me to un-learn. I remember a rough shift at the group home where I worked at the time. As honored as I was to be someone that clients could share difficult things with, it was exhausting sometimes. They had been sharing stories of past suicide attempts and people they’d known who had killed themselves. It was hard not to think about my own loved ones who had committed suicide, but I wasn’t there to talk about that; it was my job to listen and validate and comfort. Several other things were difficult that shift, but the difficulty was heightened by my vulnerable state after that conversation. I got home from work at a quarter past eleven that night and just needed to unwind. I went to my boyfriend’s place and found him having a hard time because it had been raining a lot that week. I remember thinking, “I’m dealing with missing my dead loved ones and I can’t even talk about it because you’re sad that it’s raining?” I confided in a couple friends that I was having a hard time with my boyfriend’s depression, and they looked at me like I was an awful person, so

I stopped talking abo neither of us would h Fast forward to a c I learned that depres Sadness resulted from had always understoo necessarily a logical r my sleep, my digestio effort it took to do sm the heart but depres was my ability to cont pretty well, but this w what my own brain w that sad people are c Those messages are encing these symptom I still experience sy I have a new conside wonder if he picked u depression (he proba for him. My sympathy loved ones have com I am a much better fr active listening and v self-righteous giving better than they do!). qualities, and I have d one example) to than

unf

out it. I wanted to fix an unfixable thing for him, so that have to deal with it anymore. couple summers ago, when my own depression began. ssion and sadness were two very different things. m external circumstances, this was a thing that I od. Depression, though, was physical. There wasn’t reason for it, but somehow it permeated everything; on, my memory and ability to focus, my circulation, the mall things, my energy level, etc. Sadness happens in ssion happens everywhere. The other big difference trol it. I had always been able to deal with sadness was so different. I felt out of control and scared of was doing to me. The worst part was those messages choosing to be sad, that they were lazy and selfish. everywhere, and it made me hate myself for experims. ymptoms of depression that wax and wane, and now eration for this man that I dated and misunderstood. I up on how frustrated I sometimes was at his ably did), and imagine how awful that must have felt y has turned into empathy. Since this change, when me to me to tell me about difficult things in their lives, riend than I once was. I’ve made it a point to practice validating their hurt rather than skipping right to the of advice (as if I could know what’s best for them . I’m proud of the work I’ve done to cultivate these depression (and other challenges, since this is just nk for it.

"I wanted to fix an fixable thing for him"

y grandfather on my dad's side of the family passed away several years ago. My father is the second oldest of five siblings, all of whom rarely talk or see one another nowadays. There is much disagreement between the five siblings over my grandfather's money, remaining properties tied to my grandfather, and the belongings/prized possessions he's left behind. It saddens me to have witnessed my family slowly drift apart from one another, and my dad lose contact with the siblings he's grown up with his entire life. As a result I rarely see or talk to numerous cousins usually only at weddings, funerals, or other very important family gatherings. When my grandfather was alive, he put family as a priority. Every summer (while his health persisted) he organized a 3 or 4 day vacation in San Diego. This vacation wasn't an option, but a mandate. During this time, the entire family came together and spent time relaxing, tanning, kayaking, swimming, making s'mores, telling stores, and just having a great time together as relatives. Fast-forward to present day, and none of this takes place. I see some family members every few months, and others every few years (if that). Arguing amongst my aunts, uncles and father is the last thing my grandfather would have ever wanted. At the end of the day, possessions are possessions. Money doesn't buy happiness. Happiness comes from the love of a family. To some, this family is your immediate family. To others, this family is the people you surround yourself with at school, outside of school, in the office, or wherever you find comfort and ease. Appreciate the time given to you with those you truly care for, because once it's gone, you keep these people alive through memory. I am fortunate to hold positive memories of the times with my grandfather, and only wish that the years after were filled with these same feelings of happiness, as opposed to wishing tensions would settle. While I originally encountered difficulty coming to terms with the passing of my grandfather, his life and the circumstances following helped illustrate the importance of loving what you have, not yearning for what you lack.

"Arguing amongst my aunts, uncles and father is the last thing my grandfather would have ever wanted"

"her actions m my own when grieving" 7

mirror I am I

have had a lot of death in my life, and 2011 was especially bad. From January, the end of my freshman year in college, to early December, the start of Christmas break of my Sophomore year, I'd lost more than 10 friends or family members, including three close ones in November. I was a wreck. But in the beginning of winter term my good friend's grandma passed away. She wasn't talking about it much, but I knew she had been fairly close to her grandma. It was then that I was able to identify her acting on her grief, even when she wasn't talking about it, because her actions mirror my own when I am grieving. That was when I was able to look back on my life, and the pain of losing people I love, something I usually consider irredeemably horrible, and for the first time see some good come out of it. Because I had been through that, I was in a unique position to help my friend. It was a strong positive born out of a strong negative experience.

"I had forgotten that I could find happiness & fulfillment by myself."

ebruary of this year, I did something I never thought I would have the strength or urge to do. I broke off a 3-year long distance relationship with the girl I once thought I would marry. Going into a long distance relationship, it seems as if everything (and everyone) is working against you. I doubted what I was doing and so did she, but we decided that trying to make it work was worth it. Two years pass and we're going strong. There were road bumps, but nothing to make us doubt our relationship. Going into both of our junior years, things took a different turn. We both began seeing that we were headed in different directions and that we weren't the people we used to be. She grew into a beautiful woman and I grew to find that my needs and desires in life were simply different. We had both grown over the years, but didn't realize until this year that we were also growing apart. So finally, we reached a point where I simply found that I needed something more. I needed someone that could share my passions and wants in life, and unfortunately she wasn't THE person for me. It took me months to gather the strength to even bring this up, but when I did, I found that we both were felt the same. We both had been growing apart for longer than we could admit. It was a hard realization because it was something I didn't want to admit, or didn't think i could. But I had finally reached a point where I needed to put myself first. I needed to do the unthinkable and let myself be free. I needed to find myself. After I ended our relationship I faced more guilt and doubt than I could ever explain. I woke up every morning thinking I did something wrong, but slowly I began to realize something I hadn't felt in years. I felt the liberty and freedom of being alone. I felt that I could finally put more focus on myself because that's what I really needed at this point of my life. For the first time in a while, I was truly happy. I had to let go of the idea that I needed this relationship to be happy. I had forgotten that I could find happiness and fulfillment by myself. So long story short, looking back I found that change, no matter how detrimental it may seem, will lead to new beginnings. Every decision has consequences, but life goes on. Happiness is something you can only achieve when you truly allow yourself to be happy. I found that I needed to figure myself out more before I could ever give someone else the love they deserve. And I have to say... I'm happy.

"what a luxu was to have W

hen I found out I was pregnant, there was no question about how to go forward from there. I knew what my choice would be. I was twenty, and the guy I was with didn't have any money. But, beyond the money or my age, it was that I had dreams. Huge dreams. Aspirations that reached farther than the little corner of the country I called home. I made the appointment the same day I found out. Afterwards, the hormones stick around in your body for about a week. That's the hardest part, that's the part they don't tell you. I knew in my mind I'd made the right decision, but my body was writhing with emptiness. It was an intrinsic kind of emptiness, like it was searching to nurture something that it could no longer find. Those were probably the lowest moments of my life. Despite the incredible emotional toll it took on me, what a luxury it was to have a choice. To live in a state that supported my decisions about my body, and my future. There are women in this country, and all over the world that (because of political climate, lack of resources, or both) remain trapped in hopeless situations. I am so lucky to live in a place that allowed me to liberate myself from mine. This isn't to say I don't think about what might have been, or silently acknowledge a birthday that never came. This experience will stick with me forever. In end though, it made me stronger. I reflect on my abortion with an eternal gratefulness, and every day use the residual anguish to barrel myself with momentum into a life I love.

ury it a choice"

"it was a true te of my independen and bravery" 13

est nce D

uring my senior year of high school, I had to move out of my mother’s apartment due to her verbally abusive nature and irrational behavior. As I neared my 18th birthday, my mother would constantly threaten to kick me out and cussed me out on a daily basis. The thing is - I didn’t even do anything. Perhaps her behaviour was related to her lack of meds, or others thought it might have been a case of bipolar disorder. Even to this day, nothing is quite clear. But with a history of her throwing a lamp at me and abandoning me in a Fred Meyer’s parking lot, I could not handle the emotional stress that was put onto me during this time. I was juggling 7 IB classes and a lead role in a Shakeapeare play - both which ultimately served as escapes from reality at home. My friend’s mother generously offered me a room in their house for the months leading up to college. The hardships I have dealt with as a result of her senseless character left me bitter with resentment and unable to trust her. How could I not? She had put me in a situation where I was technically homeless and without financial support. But it was a true test of my independence and bravery. After holding a grudge about the situation for about 3 years, I realized that my mother is the only true family I have. I knew that I could not hold a grudge forever. We slowly began talking again, and things are definitely better than they were. While we might not get to choose our family, we can surely choose our friends. And to be honest, I’ve always seen my friends as my family – the ones who I talk to on a regular basis, the ones who I go to when I need help, the ones who I know are always there for me. While the technical definition of “family” does not hold much value in my mind, I am forever grateful for the people that surrounds me each day. They have helped me to stay strong throughout the years, and I don’t know what I would do without them.

aving an older boyfriend came with its perks. I was 18 and he was 33, and he had a BMW convertible. His father was a surgeon, and my, what a lump sum that old bloke was toting around. Every other weekend or so, I would go up to Tigard where his parents lived. We would spend the weekend there, quite honestly doing nothing. I spent a lot of time watching television. He spent a lot of time online, reading and sleeping next to me. I was extremely bored. I tried to pick up crafts and do scrapbooking, but found that I was just restless. His property was on several acres of beautiful country. The house was built magnificently. It was a quad-floored mansion with two huge staircases and beautiful mahogany floors. When he was younger, his father sold Christmas trees off the property and made a little money on the side (like he needed it). His father’s health was always declining though, and eventually the trees became over grown and too mature to fit into a house. People stopped buying the trees, and the property became overgrown with weeds. The mansion was faded with time, too. Though it was beautiful, it had a permanent smell of “old.” Out of my three serious boyfriends, he was the only one who knew who his father was. Fathers are a lot like time machines, I think. And that fascinated me. You can use them as a model of what your boyfriend will someday be. His father was essentially who my boyfriend would be in 35 years. 35 years didn’t look too flattering on him to say the least. Sure, he had money. But other than his occasional ride in his old truck, my boyfriend’s father was pretty much house ridden. He tended to “putt” around, which was his mothers nice way of saying that he was doing absolutely nothing. You could a ways tell where was by the little trail of messes he’d left behind him. Newspaper clippings piled up at the dining room table, stacks of old books filled the chairs surrounding it. He would leave his dirty hats on the kitchen counter and would never clean up his salmon skin messes. He really liked salmon, and that is just

a gross thought for really. He kept old to was devoted to his c cracked the door op old papers, magazin So who was into my boyfriend ge hoarder-to-be with a that black and white yourself: When the h to each other, what cies continuing to gr collected CDs, books were worth so much headed. I imagined passed away. They w be the ones who wo There is this away what you don’t seen a hearse with a need to let go of wh grow as an individua important it was for own separate ways. into his father.

"who was I 15

some reason. He was a collector. Anything you could think of, ools, guns, coins, bear skins, chainsaws, firewood. A whole room collections. One time I got nosey and snuck down the hall and pen. What I saw scared me. You couldn’t even walk in. Piles of nes, dust covered everything. I dating, exactly? How much of his father’s behaviors were built enetically? Well, by the looks of it I was dating a narcissistic, a big gut and serious health issues. Call me a bitch for being e about it, but after those first couple years you really got to ask honeymoon stage wears off and you don’t have much left to say are you going home to every night? I saw those same tendenrow in him, even though he was well into his 30s. He meticulously s, clothes, movies, autographed posters. All of these things that h money and time invested. I could see where all of this was what him and his two older siblings would do once his father would be stuck with all of his gluttonous collections. They would ould have to pick up after him. s Kristian Bush song called “Trailer Hitch.” Its about just giving t need. I’m not one for country but the punch line is “I’ve never a trailer hitch.” There is a lot of truth to that. Sometimes you hat you don’t need - let go of the things that aren’t helping you al. While I enjoyed my simple times with him, I realized how me to break things off, allowing ourselves to both grow in our I wish him all the best, and only hope that he doesn’t turn

dating, exactly?"

amor fati a zine By spice walker

Do you have a story you would like to share? Send an email to spicew@uoregon.edu