Thursday, April 4, 2013

I haven't written in the last couple of days because, to tell the truth, I don't have anything to say except to complain.  I am lost, overwhelmed and teetering on edges.  I wake up in the morning and do a body scan.  Is that ache in my chest still there?  Will I make it through the day without sobbing?  Some days I get up and think "okay, I'm okay", then something, the smallest thing hits me and I am helpless.  I can't seem to get through a day without falling apart at some point.  I go to that damn grief class each week and find out I am completely normal, which is sometimes helpful and sometimes hateful. 

Sometimes life feels a bit like it used to and then I feel horrible for feeling normal.  Sometimes life feels like it will never be normal again and I hate that.  We built this house and little farm with the idea that there were two of us.  Some days I wade in and do as much as I can to keep it moving and then one little thing will do me in.  It is too much, I can't keep up, and there are some things I just don't know how to do or am not strong enough to do.  And then I am undone again.  Everything is so much work, there is so much I dont know how to do and he is not here to help.  How did I let myself get seduced into being taken such good care of?  I liked it. Sometimes I feel like I was better off before I knew what it felt like to be cared for and loved so well.  Even while I know that it was a great and glorious gift that will open the future to something ever better. 

I'm desperately lonely and I don't want to talk to anyone.  I want to feel normal again and I don't want to feel normal, that feels like some kind of betrayal, even though I know it's not.  I am exhausted on every level.  The last couple of days everything has felt like too much. 

I am reminded of the Somerset Maughm play, "The Razor's Edge."  I should probably read it again, or watch the movie. 

Anyway, this part; when everyone else has gone back to normal, really sucks.  I am floundering trying to figure out what normal is now.  And I have no idea.  I have surrendered to the moment most times, putting one foot in front of the other and hoping for the best.  Having to believe that I will not be here forever. 

I have seen the Great Blue Heron two more times.  I take it as a sign, even while I also know that it is Spring and it is normal to see him more often. 

I used to have this theory that those of us who had really hard childhood's would catch a break later in life and those who cruised through childhood would have their turn at suffering later.  It worked for me for a while, but it's not working right now.   I wish I knew how to cruise through life, how to avoid feeling so much, but I've never been good at that. 

So I thought to spare the universe my wavering on the Razor's Edge....but it feels pretty good to put it out there. It is our attachment that brings us such pain, but I dont' know, for the life of me, how we love without it. Even when we think we do, we are caught always by those slender threads that bind us to each other and this world. And I guess maybe that's the point of living in these human bodies at this point in learn to walk that edge.


  1. What People Give You

    Long-faced irises. Mums.
    Pink roses and white roses
    and giant sunflowers,
    and hundreds of daisies.

    Fruit baskets with muscular pears,
    and water crackers and tiny jams
    and the steady march of casseroles.
    And money,
    people give money these days.

    Cards, of course:
    the Madonna, wise
    and sad just for you,
    Chinese cherry blossoms,
    sunsets and moonscapes,
    and dragonflies for transcendence.

    People stand by your sink
    and offer up their pain:
    Did you know I lost a baby once,
    or My eldest son was killed,
    or My mother died two months ago.

    People are good.

    They file into your cartoon house until it bows at the seams;
    they give you every
    except your daughter back.

    "What People Give You" by Kathleen Sheeder Bonanno, from Slamming Open the Door. © Alice James Books, 2009.