“I thought by now you’d be better” and so began a conversation that is often avoided. Already riddled with anxiety, the body responded with further tension and frustration.
‘Thinking before speaking’, what a concept! It has been said, “if you have nothing good to say, say nothing at all.” Is there a ‘mute’ button anywhere? Maybe the “walking-dead” is not such a far fetched concept.
My Grieving Friend has said, “it is a constant teaching moment.” Somewhere along the line I would like to stop teaching, please!
If I’m in a good-place, I might simply smile or even mumble a cordial reply. However, if I’m already depleted from fighting my own personal assaults then I’ll yank you right into my struggle. Verbal punches and blows will be thrown…be forewarned. Then, I’ll either walk away victorious having dodged another bullet or I’ll continue the barrage of self-hatred due to my inadequacy of properly handling another encounter poorly. Yeah, people encounters are just not “my-thang”.
I am constantly told that isolation isn’t good for me. Ha! Are you kidding me?!?! At least when I am alone my opponent is one not a multitude. I am seriously contemplating a bungalow in a deserted island…just sayin.
Defending…trying to make people understand…is
The human mind, many a war has been fought and won within its hidden chambers. The battles can be fierce and unrelenting. Its doors can be unknowingly opened, allowing ferocious enemies to come in and wreck havoc.
Ghosts have no power to hurt, yet somehow I’ve given them the power to haunt and torture me. Dismissing these ghosts does not nullify the reality of past events. However, inviting them in and allowing them to set up permanent camp is a choice.
Have you ever contemplated digging up a corpse? Yes, you read right! Well, I have. In my chaotic spirals that thought has entered my mind. As the spinning stops, the reality hits like a boulder and the onslaught of questions floods…would that bring her back? would that bring you comfort? would it make everything ok? would this…on…and on…and on…
In a sense, a sort of “digging up” has been happening around here. Now, this has been a much needed endeavor, however, there comes a time to move forward beyond dissecting that putrid muck. I refuse to allow any more abuse to happen at the hands of ghosts. NOW, I HAVE A CHOICE!!! NOW, I HAVE A VOICE!!!
“…Fix your thoughts on what is true, and honorable, and right, and pure, and lovely, and admirable. Think about things that are excellent and worthy of praise.” ~ Phil. 4:8 NLT
Grateful for days or even moments of clarity of mind. For moments that allow me to breathe without restraint. Today, I will choose to think and meditate on TRUTH.
Another holiday in the books! Social media in tip top shape with all its Kodak moments. The endless flow of post card perfection. With all them filters who can go wrong, right? What lurks behind the scenes? What if we could peel off every “filter” and were allowed into the rawness of life?
I read a blog post which was originally posted on June 6, 2018 entitled “Gravity and Stars: A Father’s Day Reflection for the Fatherless” by Sammy Rhodes. Within his post Rhodes quotes Michael Chabon:
…fatherhood is “an obligation that was more than your money, your body, or your time, a presence neither physical nor measurable by clocks: open-ended, eternal, and invisible, like the commitment of gravity to the stars.”
“Obligation” and “commitment”, words packed with a punch. Words that enter the recesses of my mind and turn up with an “ERROR-MESSAGE“. Rhodes says, “There are a lot of ways to lose a father, each with unique pains.” and “…[his father] haunts the land of the living with the presence of their absence…his absent presence…” — Wow, this hits hard! (emphasis mine).
Thoughts of my own father “missing” yet there. Remember Dad? Yeah, The Runaway has deep “daddy-issues”.
Memories of my Dad are few. From that trickle flow, one looms the size of Gibraltar. His “presence” was painfully absent when his little girl needed the protection of her Daddy. In a sense handing over the preciousness of a soul to abuse. With his “absent presence” came others that would step into his abandoned role. However, this proved to be disastrous. One said that “he loved me as his daughter”, only to cowardly bury the truth. The other said, “I love you like a daughter”, as he denied his thwarted attempts to violate her body.
In the mystery of this life journey there are turns in the crooked road that bring you to ponds of fresh water. Waters that quench and satisfy a thirsty soul. I have been given eyes to “see” A Father. The only one and perfect Dad. I am so grateful! And, by the grace of God, my husband has been that Dad that has been and continues to be always “present” for our children.
~~~Gratitude in the midst of pain~~~
Howdy Fellow Sojourners 😀
It has been a while since I’ve popped in here and simply said “hello”. I’ve been mostly laid out. At one point, I seriously considered being hospitalized. Forever grateful for my amazing family who has been here to have the hard conversations and to help me make decisions when my chaotic brain just isn’t functioning.
In the month of May my son and I participated in a Photo Challenge by @whatsyourgrief on IG. A word prompt was given for each day of the month. We would share a picture and write something prompted by the word/picture. It has been really interesting to see and read the different takes from others and specially from my son. Exploring our grief together has been a “gift” to me. Through one of the posts I found @refugeingrief. I’ve signed up for their 30-day course Writing Your Grief for the month of June. These exercises have kept me writing everyday, even if I don’t post here.
Exploring your grief through writing, pictures, drawing, or whatever you find helpful is so important. It’s a healthy way of dealing with all the crazy emotions going on in the human body.
Ready pen continues to write, even if it’s just a “word”.
Grateful for all who visit, stop by or stay for a while. Let’s continue to listen deeply and write freely🖋
Ponder with me…
When someone comes to mind, what is the first thing that pops into your mind? When death comes, how will you be remembered? When you are just a corpse, and hopefully, people come to pay their respects, what will they “think about” as they stand over you?
Death has rattled our cages again. I’m older, and hopefully wiser. I’m learning to “think through”, to “work through” grief and loss. Our family has the tendency to stuff grief down our being so as to not deal with it or even acknowledge our pain. So, I’m a pioneer in this “new and improved” way…haha! And, guess what? Working through loss and all the implications thereof, I’m finding, is so much better and healthier than the alternative.
What triggered the above questions has been two recent deaths. When the first death occurred the words and sentiments written were those of love and honor. When the second death occurred there was an eerie silence. The legacy left by the first will be one of fond memories and the deep desire that the person wasn’t gone. The second, well, there is almost a “relief” that they are no longer causing damage.
In the end how will I be remembered? What memories will I leave behind? Will I be missed or will it be a welcomed loss?
Oh, that I would learn to number my days, that I may gain a heart of wisdom; that I might leave a legacy worth emulating.
It’s been said that the eyes are the windows to the soul. Your windows have been closed shut forever. I remember a few times in our lives that you dared to crack them open, only to slam them shut as if it was the most stupid thing you did. Agonizing pain tortured your soul. Why couldn’t anyone help you? What kept you shut in your pain? Once again, we are left with a myriad of questions and regrets.
Two memories of you as a teenager come to mind. I was only a child. You were raging mad, like a caged animal who had been brutally hurt. You lashed out only to be beaten mercilessly. And, so, the brutal assault upon yourself and others continued. Your manipulation was masterful. I wonder if your poisonous spews were to keep us away, in an almost protective kind of way. Warped? Yes, but is that what you learned?
You were a son, a brother, a husband, a dad, a grandfather…a human being. How did you slip from our hands? How did you end up alone in your last hours? And, selfishly, I ask, “did you know I loved you?” You were always on my mind and prayers, and now you are gone. A horrid end to a spiraling life.
I wish I could say, “you are now at peace”, but…
So, as many times before, I will rest on the fact that God is God and I am not. That He is merciful and just. That this side of heaven, my questions may never be answered. I will hold on to Him and His promises, and when I have no strength to hold, He holds me still. Like a weaned child, I will rest upon His bosom…there I find comfort and a peace that surpasses all understanding.
Be still my soul, and know He is God.
Step, shuffle…step, shuffle. Grueling steps, feeling every pebble and stone. The scorching sun glaring from the surface of the road, as if the elements had conspired to inflict further pain upon this shattered soul. How many times has this road been treaded? Too many times, and I wish I could say it is the last time.
The slow ascent from the land of the living to the place of eternal rest. Heavy, tedious, yet robotic and numb. The mixed crowd, some there by compulsion, others need to be part of paying their respects and others simply want to sponge away information to be spread elsewhere. Tears, sobs, prayers and even some laughs are heard among the throng.
The Family Tree has taken another blow. One more branch laid to rest. It is said that it was a gift to his Mother, being it was Dia de las Madres in the quaint village. They are together again, Mom and her beloved Son. Funny the things we say to bring comfort and solace to our sorrowful soul. However, the unanswered questions and countless regrets remain. The horrid images will haunt us. And, the pain of another loss will sear us even more.
The cobblestone road, that held childhood memories of laughter and joy, is now paved with pain and sorrow, sprinkled with rivers of tears.
God have mercy on us✝️