Safe Arrival

Arrival
2015irislines

Sometimes I write an entire entry, just letting it all hang out, letting every emotion that passes through me utter a cry on the page, naming names, shouting, laughing, crying, cringing…

Ah, but words are too powerful to let them run wild in the streets of the digital highway.

And so I write, and delete. If I need to, I write again, and delete. Like sullied water running through sand, the words cleanse themselves as they move from entry to entry, until finally they emerge clear; representing the essence of my feelings, rather than their intensity. That is what you usually read here.

This morning it took three attempts to arrive at this page.

There are painful things in my life. They are what they are. They are not of my making. They are not resolvable. There are no suggestions, or advice, or comments that could ever change what they are, or how they feel. Most of the time I am adept at stepping around those painful things. Sometimes they muscle their way into my path, demanding my attention, filtering my world through shaded colours. That is when I write them into the bright light, invite them out of the shadows, where their need for recognition slowly grows, and becomes intolerable. This is my greatest opportunity in life to love myself, and I take it up with awe and respect.

Worldly Distractions

Weather

15°C
Date: 7:32 AM EDT Monday 8 June 2015
Condition: Light Rain
Pressure: 100.5 kPa
Tendency: falling
Visibility: 6 km
Temperature: 14.9°C
Dewpoint: 14.9°C
Humidity: 100%
Wind: S 31 km/h

Quote

“It’s all right letting yourself go as long as you can let yourself back.”
Mick Jagger
1943 –

19 Comments

  1. After spending a day yesterday reading a lot of and about Virginia Woolf (again), I feel that you and she might have some commonalities. She always felt she could write her way into (mental) health and even physical pain that she suffered for many years. Things were so different back then and it’s a shame she didn’t have today’s medicine and technology to aid her in her struggles. I wish you had no troubles, you work so hard at just surviving! And having to live apart from your soul-mate is probably one of the hardest things of all. ((hugs))

  2. Bex, that is a commonality, using the written word to balance painful realities. The thing is, I do not feel that I suffer from ill mental health, quite the contrary.

    To be frank, I feel that taking pills to deal with harsh realities might be useful in the short term, perhaps providing respite from pain in order to sort things through on a personal level. However, I don’t believe they are helpful in the long term. What I observe in the people I know who are taking these drugs, is that the drugs are much like diet pills and fad diets. They work only to alleviate immediate symptoms, but do not provide the individual with the tools to regain equilibrium through their own efforts. Like a fad diet, which is now recognized as failing to promote healthy eating as a lifestyle, mood altering drugs, in and of themselves, offer no personal growth towards accepting and dealing with harsh realities.

    I do not know how Virginia Woolf felt about mental health, her own, or the theories that prescribe such things. I do know that as I look around me, and see how many things are going wrong in our society, I doubt that the drugs and technology are helping the species to any discernible degree. There are, of course, people who are using these things to great advantage.

    If I had to consider an external source of relief, I would choose laughter. Every time.

    It is difficult to live apart from Attila, Bex, you are so right about that. He is a bright star in my universe. It would be so wonderful if the only challenge in my life was about reuniting with him!

  3. TopsyTurvy (Teri)

    I guess I’m at a loss, Maggie. Perhaps you’re too self-sufficient for your own good, or perhaps you are very adept at acting that way. I don’t know. Something is hurting you but you don’t share, you just say ‘I hurt, I hurt deeply’. But it’s very hard to commiserate with ‘I hurt’. We can’t make a connection with the pain so we can’t really rally around you and be supportive. We can’t give support, you can’t receive it, and so both sides have a feeling of stasis.

    It’s a conundrum. Why say ‘I hurt’ at all when you’re unwilling to accept support or a connection? No, I’m not chiding you. I more feel the depth not offered and I wonder how much is because you feel our sentiments would give you nothing and how much of it is simply that you’re uncomfortable with bringing us closer, letting us deeper inside.

  4. So many thoughts swirling through my head, I’m feeling a bit dizzy, mentally unbalanced. I’m joking of course. Silliness.

    First of all, laughter IS my best medicine. It makes me feel better and oddly enough, *cures* the uneasiness of others. Of course, I do a lot of laughing when I’m alone. I can’t emphasize enough the powerful healing properties of laughter in my life.

    On the other hand, the two times I can remember slipping down the slope of depression, I now wish I’d had some temporary meds to take the edge off. (I think this is the type of episode you would agree with.) I also wish I’d had counseling of any sort – a detached voice to reattach me to the living. Instead, I closed my doors, my windows, my eyes, my heart, and languished. It was dreadful. Both times I got in a pickle they were associated with grief. I also think that’s why I *handle* my own circumstances with my children the way I do – prepping them as best possible.

    And then there are mental illnesses that should also partnership nonstop with drugs … schizophrenia being one. A friend of a friend has a 40+ year old son in a psychiatric prison. He was a brilliant attorney – medicated for his schizophrenia. Then he decided to stop taking the meds. He was at his parents’ home, had a spat with his father, went to the kitchen, returned with a knife and slaughtered his father. This tragedy never would have happened if he’d stayed on his meds. *sigh*

    Now, probably what I should’ve started with before all my egocentric ramblings: You are an amazing person. I think you know how much I esteem the fairness of your inner compass. It never deviates. I’ve sensed there are portions of your life you keep to yourself and I admire that too. Not everyone has to be like me and vomit everything all over the place. Dignity has never been my forte. Dignity is a word reserved for people like you.

    You are dear and smart and brave – and I am so gigantically glad we *met*.

    Love.

  5. TopsyTurvy (Teri)

    After I’d sent my first response off this more succinct way of saying things came to mind. Giving support and making connections are like giving gifts of ourselves, Maggie. Those connections are very important on both sides of a relationship, they build and round out relationships. And I guess I feel that we should be open to them and accept them graciously, as one would a real life gift or a complement.

  6. Topsy! Just so you know, I was typing my comments offline before posting and before reading your comments. I would never want you to think I was editorializing about your observations. In fact, as I read your comments my head started to bob like a dashboard doll. 🙂 You made some very fine and good and smart observations. Love.

  7. Teri, I am sorry that you feel stasis, that is certainly not my intent. I do agree that in many instances a load shared is a load lightened. I share many personal details here, but this is not one of those instances.

    The fact is, I don’t need to commiserate these complicated hurtful situations, in the way you are thinking. The kind of support I do need, I do get, usually by the mere presence of good people, here, and in face-to-face contact.

    I wrote in this journal long before anyone even thought about reading it, and I wrote in the same way that I do now. I appreciate that people read my words, I am deeply touched by that, it is a very nurturing experience. But my approach to writing and sharing is not motivated by the wonderful people who read the words that I put on the “paper”. I offer to the page the degree of detail that I feel I have a right to share, it is that simple.

    If someone is involved directly with the hurt, they know all about it, and they are the only ones with whom I would discuss details. I have nothing to gain by involving uninvolved individuals, and everyone directly involved in the details has much to lose.

    I say “I hurt”, because it is my human right to speak my own truth.

  8. Reenie, thanks for expanding on the point about medications! They are useful as a tool, so is therapy, so are groups brought together to deal with certain types of traumatic events. And your point about there being real conditions that require medication, like schizophrenia, is spot on.

    Reenie, I feel the same way about having “met” you, gigantically glad, and grateful to the universe.

    P.S. I love that you share so much of yourself in your writing, LOVE it. Your innate respect for others comes across in every word. Love ya back.

  9. TopsyTurvy (Teri)

    Reenie, I didn’t see you as editorializing on my response. Not to worry. I read your post and thought to myself, “Okay, that’s definitely another way to see it.” Just goes to show there are multiple ways to address things.

    Maggie, if the burden you comment about isn’t yours to share, I can understand your not sharing.

    I’ve also never been one to fall into drug use to dull experiences like depression. But then any depression I’ve had has been in response to the hardships of living and so I’ve always seen any depression on my part as wholly appropriate as a response.

    I guess the loss I feel is more my own than anything else. So I’ll just blindly send you *hugs*, even if you don’t want them and feel they won’t help. I’m at a loss to do anything else.

  10. Teri, I accept and welcome your hugs. Although I can do no more than share what I am feeling, and cannot share the whys and the wherefores, the good wishes are wonderful to receive, and they are more than enough. hugs

  11. Nora

    Hi Maggie,

    “There are painful things in my life. They are what they are. They are not of my making. They are not resolvable. There are no suggestions, or advice, or comments that could ever change what they are, or how they feel”.

    I can relate to this because of my own experiences which started twenty years ago. Unfortunately therapy did not help. Drugs dulled the pain but did little else. It can be very confusing (for me).

    I recently started on Xanax for anxiety and lasted three days. It is not easy dealing with these experiences but for me with time (lots of time) they can become (feel) further away.

    x0x0x0x0x0x

  12. Thank you Joan, you have “seen me”, which feels wonderful. The pain has had its moment in the sun, it is beginning to fade now, allowing me to focus again on the good things in life. Hugs!

  13. Nora, I am so sorry to hear that Xanax had nothing to offer you, it was worth a try. You have mentioned that where you are living is less than ideal, I hope that soon you find yourself in a more peaceful environment, which may allow you a little more breathing space as you work towards moving those awful experiences into balance in your life. It is hard work, you are worth it.

  14. crochetlady or Lee Ann

    Sometimes the hurt just has to be acknowledged and then you can say “yes, I hurt.” And move on from the source of the pain. And then sometimes it takes more than that-it takes time, lots of time. And the hurt revisits us periodically. And you go through the cycle again and again. Nothing can make it better but time. I hope time helps you. Until then, here’s a hug.

  15. Thanks Lee Ann! Time does help a lot in my situation, but the periodic visitations continue, and I anticipate they will continue for the rest of my journey here. Hugs

    Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

    The Rainy Day

    The day is cold, and dark, and dreary;
    It rains, and the wind is never weary;
    The vine still clings to the mouldering wall,
    But at every gust the dead leaves fall,
    And the day is dark and dreary.

    My life is cold, and dark, and dreary;
    It rains, and the wind is never weary;
    My thoughts still cling to the mouldering Past,
    But the hopes of youth fall thick in the blast,
    And the days are dark and dreary.

    Be still, sad heart! and cease repining;
    Behind the clouds is the sun still shining;
    Thy fate is the common fate of all,
    Into each life some rain must fall,
    Some days must be dark and dreary.

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