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So, so sad...
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<blockquote data-quote="scent of cedar" data-source="post: 597607" data-attributes="member: 1721"><p>Witz, this is not a pity party. </p><p></p><p>You've been gutted...and you're not supposed to rail at that? You expect yourself to go to dinner, to perform all the everyday functions of life like nothing's happened? Holocaust survivor Elie Wiesel wrote something once about not wanting to speak of what it felt like to be who he was, of what it felt like to be who he had become, through his experiences, because to put it into words would diminish the sacred horror of what had happened.</p><p></p><p>That's us, Witz. That's all of us, here. We've surviving living loss. It's happening to us right now, in real time, every minute of the day, every minute of the night, haunting our dreams, stealing the color from our days, crashing through every barrier we put up against it. </p><p></p><p>It IS like we are living in that movie, Apocalypse Now. We keep going down the river in our specially equipped boat, and it just keeps getting worse.</p><p></p><p>We have to choose to survive it, or we will never make it, Witz.</p><p></p><p>We have to figure out some way to stay upright, when all we want to do is scream ourselves hoarse, forever.</p><p></p><p>When we decide to see someone Witz, it's not because we're suffering. It's because we refuse to suffer.</p><p></p><p>A grief counselor might be able help with this part of your healing.</p><p></p><p>And you are healing. </p><p></p><p>During the worst of all this for me, I wondered whether I would ever be okay, again. Whether I would ever be curious again. Whether I would ever be able to engage in conversation without constantly referencing the devastation at the core of my life. (One time? I was talking to someone about Hurricane Andrew? And somehow, I slipped into talking about that being how it felt to lose difficult child son to drugs! It was the craziest **** thing, Witz. All I could do was apologize for the slip, and be glad for the person that she had no frame of reference for the kind of pain I was living through.) </p><p></p><p>Whether I spoke of it or not, that devastation, those losses, were the core of me, were who I was. There are echoes of those times, sudden flashes of those old, traumatic woundings, whirling around in here to this day. </p><p></p><p>We win by surviving the horror, Witz. </p><p></p><p>Barbara</p><p></p><p>**********************</p><p></p><p>"Heartsick and mad, Pitt shouted to the open sky." Clive Cussler</p><p></p><p>**************</p><p></p><p>"Sybil remembered the crucifixions of her past, and by each of them, where she herself hung and screamed and writhed, she saw the golden halo and the hands of the Fool, holding and easing her, and heard his voice, murmuring peace."</p><p></p><p>Charles Williams</p><p>The Greater Trumps</p><p></p><p>*****************</p><p></p><p>You are not involved in word games.</p><p></p><p>You are fighting for your spirit, your sanity, your soul.</p><p></p><p>I don't know where I got that one, Witz.</p><p></p><p>***********************</p><p></p><p>Seboulissa, mother goddess with one breast eaten away by worms of sorrow and loss</p><p> see me, now.</p><p>Your severed daughter, laughing our name into echo</p><p> all the world shall remember.</p><p></p><p>Monique Wittig</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="scent of cedar, post: 597607, member: 1721"] Witz, this is not a pity party. You've been gutted...and you're not supposed to rail at that? You expect yourself to go to dinner, to perform all the everyday functions of life like nothing's happened? Holocaust survivor Elie Wiesel wrote something once about not wanting to speak of what it felt like to be who he was, of what it felt like to be who he had become, through his experiences, because to put it into words would diminish the sacred horror of what had happened. That's us, Witz. That's all of us, here. We've surviving living loss. It's happening to us right now, in real time, every minute of the day, every minute of the night, haunting our dreams, stealing the color from our days, crashing through every barrier we put up against it. It IS like we are living in that movie, Apocalypse Now. We keep going down the river in our specially equipped boat, and it just keeps getting worse. We have to choose to survive it, or we will never make it, Witz. We have to figure out some way to stay upright, when all we want to do is scream ourselves hoarse, forever. When we decide to see someone Witz, it's not because we're suffering. It's because we refuse to suffer. A grief counselor might be able help with this part of your healing. And you are healing. During the worst of all this for me, I wondered whether I would ever be okay, again. Whether I would ever be curious again. Whether I would ever be able to engage in conversation without constantly referencing the devastation at the core of my life. (One time? I was talking to someone about Hurricane Andrew? And somehow, I slipped into talking about that being how it felt to lose difficult child son to drugs! It was the craziest **** thing, Witz. All I could do was apologize for the slip, and be glad for the person that she had no frame of reference for the kind of pain I was living through.) Whether I spoke of it or not, that devastation, those losses, were the core of me, were who I was. There are echoes of those times, sudden flashes of those old, traumatic woundings, whirling around in here to this day. We win by surviving the horror, Witz. Barbara ********************** "Heartsick and mad, Pitt shouted to the open sky." Clive Cussler ************** "Sybil remembered the crucifixions of her past, and by each of them, where she herself hung and screamed and writhed, she saw the golden halo and the hands of the Fool, holding and easing her, and heard his voice, murmuring peace." Charles Williams The Greater Trumps ***************** You are not involved in word games. You are fighting for your spirit, your sanity, your soul. I don't know where I got that one, Witz. *********************** Seboulissa, mother goddess with one breast eaten away by worms of sorrow and loss see me, now. Your severed daughter, laughing our name into echo all the world shall remember. Monique Wittig [/QUOTE]
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