standstill
August 3, 2010
How long? How long…a small eternity. A long minute. Who’s to say.
It’s been almost 3 months to the day since I posted here last. Life has been a series of strenuous electric shocks to the heart..my dad passed away on May 4th, and I posted here that week, and just before his funeral. I’ve been putting my thoughts here, into the Little Pail, for the last 6 months, over his illness, my disquiet. My depression. Job changes. Family and friends and everything in between. One week after the funeral, I awoke at 7 am to a text from my webmaster, stating the last 6 months of data was gone. I felt a cold valley open up below me, as I realized all the feelings and thoughts I’d put down…all the process, expression, and creativity I’d laid lovingly into place, like a mosaic, was up in a smokey puff.
It was an important morning. My friend’s baby was turning 1, and a birthday party I’d eagerly looked forward to was imminent. A Ride was on their way to get me. I started to get dressed, and doubled over, howling til my breath ran out, then gasping for air. I think that was my first true sense of vulnerability about this Muse, Mistress Writer. I felt like a sailor’s wife who’s heard that their mate is “lost at sea”.
I couldn’t understand–WHERE did my writing GO? How am I to feel, how am I to honor my dad if everything genuine thing I ever wrote since I found out he was sick is just…vvvvttt?!
Eventually, MGFD (My Good Friend) scoured the internet for cached posts over the last 6 months. He found every post but the last one, which was a poem I’d re-posted by Robert Frost for my dad, just before the funeral. I kept telling myself I’d re-post it, but didn’t. I was terrified of the screen I’m typing on, then. I’m scared of it now. I don’t feel entirely reassured that it won’t happen again. It’s made me want to run back to Tribe, or even Facebook, to make sure this art form I express in, stands a fighting chance against the vvvvvtttt!
But it’s not the whole truth. The whole truth is that my job has turned out to be very toxic for my soul. Yes, the job I changed to just 8 months ago. It’s horrifically demanding, and the pay is a joke compared to how much I’m busting my chops.
My health has taken a beating this year. A variety of mystery illnesses, as well as for my CAT, of all people, has consistently plagued our normally happy home.
My best friend of 17 years and I hadn’t spoken in months, and about a month ago, when we did finally get to the White Elephant, it rapidly became a shouting match via email. It feels a lot like a marriage separation, and though I’ve never been through one, I can honestly say it is the worst feeling I’ve ever had on this planet. SThis, combined with everything else, showed me that it was time that I start seeing a therapist.
Dating has been a challenge to my center of gravity, and I’ve stretched myself further than I could really afford to, in an effort to stave off grief and loss. I’m starting to understand how pointless THAT was.
There have certainly been other factors to my life, huge ones even, that have contributed to my Still Being Alive. One is a perspective shift around my career and life path. Another is that I’ve started a side business, which I was threatening to do, re-selling parasols. (Website soon!-www.promisesparasols.com)
And I’m learning about the stock market, so I can learn how to put my dineros to work. Some of these things are surprisingly nourishing and simultaneously draining. I regularly panic, then breathe through it. Sometimes I forget to breathe, though.
I wanted to break the paper wall, and mention that while I’m not HERE, I’m still here. Or maybe even Here. Just not, you know….”Here!!!”
I know that this Little Pail, this container of redheaded heart-shaped, soul-funk pot of mish mash is not meant to be only filled with the lighter side of Life. But this rupture is a big one, and I’m not sure of the message from Spirit yet. Maybe it’s time to put down the pen, take up something new. Go back to Dancing? Take up Drinking? I wish I had more in my life, but I just don’t.
So Summer can keep rolling by at a steady 50 mph clip, 20 knots in the boat, whatever. I’m at a standstill, and while I can pretend I’m moving, I’m really not.I’m crushed under the knowledge that a truly good man, who loved me unconditionally, with all his heart, is gone, and I don’t get to see him ever again. Not this life.
So I’m standing right here, until I can stop crying about that…
Buddha on Wed, 4th Aug 2010 2:06 am
The Four Noble Truths
1. Life means suffering.
2. The origin of suffering is attachment.
3. The cessation of suffering is attainable.
4. The path to the cessation of suffering.
Annika on Thu, 5th Aug 2010 6:16 am
We never truly stand still. Even when we think we are, we’re not. We learn, we change, we shift, we grow, our pain ebbs and flows, but most of all we learn.
Stay true to yourself my dear. This time sucks. Not dealing with it for years doesn’t make it any better. Believe me, I know. It’s okay to feel the pain. It’s okay to feel the loss. It’s okay to give yourself time to acknowledge it and to work through it. But know in that process you will get through it. I don’t think we ever get over it, but I know we get through it. There are times I still weep for my parents. It means I was lucky enough to love and be loved by two amazing people. But the rest of your life doesn’t stop in the meantime, even when we want it to.
You can do this. One day at a time. One thing at a time. One breath at a time. Don’t force yourself. Don’t force others. Be gentle and hold true to who you are.
You are loved.
carnen on Tue, 10th Aug 2010 7:41 pm
Looking forward to our time together at the Tea Garden. I love you.
promise on Thu, 2nd Sep 2010 7:52 pm
I do not subscribe to 1. being that the meaning of Life is to suffer. So how is your comment relevant?