Zemblanity...

I recently ran across this word. Zemblanity: the inevitable discovery of what we would rather not know. Well, how much does this suck? Often, I have said, “Ignorance is bliss.” And, to be honest, I kind of agree. I am not talking about the ignorance of not being educated; I am speaking more of the ignorance of the kind of knowledge or information that can hurt, break or damage us.

Many times, I have come across a moment of clarity that left me more hurt and broken than seconds before. Times that information has left me numb, and unable to function at a normal level. It’s the hurt that renders us incapable of existing the way we are used to.

My most memorable, and hurtful, moment of zemblanity was when, on the other side of the phone, my best friend, crying into the phone, told me my brother was dead. Just no longer existing. He ceased to be, and now I knew it. I had a feeling it was already true, but that is another post. Talk about something I would rather not know. But, how could I not? I brought up this particularly painful memory, because I think it perfectly exemplifies this word. It was inevitable that I would find out, and I would rather not know, and in that so painful drive across town to his apartment, I was numb and utterly useless.

We all have these moments of zemblanity: when we find out our loved one is dead, when we find out our lover is cheating on us, when we find out our child has been in an accident, when we find out that we did not get the job we wanted more than anything. It is in that moment of paradigm shift that we struggle to take the a breath like the one that came so naturally and subconsciously before.

This word is the antithesis of serendipity For in serendipity, we find something that we weren’t looking for. We are given a bit of luck that renders us more hopeful than before, not numb. When I heard this word, I thought, “If I find myself in a moment of zemblanity, how do I hope? How do I continue to breathe, when it is now so hard?” 

And even though I know that answer, I can’t explain it. I can’t tell you. I can’t explain how in the bleakness that surrounds pain and hurt how one begins to breathe again. Because it is time...it is a journey we must all walk, and no one’s moment of pain or suffering is the same. We all have something to hope for. But, at times like these, it is so very hard to find, but hope is there, and look we must.