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The calm after the storm...feels kind of blah
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<blockquote data-quote="scent of cedar" data-source="post: 608001" data-attributes="member: 1721"><p>A practice, a new beginning, a new life which required great care....</p><p></p><p>True.</p><p></p><p></p><p>****************</p><p></p><p>Ah, of course that makes sense. </p><p></p><p>This is Post-Traumatic Stress. </p><p></p><p>Marshaling every bit of strength for every phone call, for every social engagement, for every morning. Expecting to hear that a body had been identified, that this part was over and the next phase would begin. Ferreting out every bit of information we could glean from any source; searching the streets of the city where she was, seeing horrible things there but never, ever spotting her.... Coming to horrified attention whenever the local news reported a stabbing, a theft, the routing of homeless people from the downtown tourist areas. Preparing for the July family gathering, and for the company that was coming, later that month. Fielding questions without displaying the horror at the heart of it. Pretending things were okay, pretending WE were okay. Pretending any of it mattered, when it was like we could hear a clock, ticking down the seconds....</p><p></p><p>Our grandchildren not here, not coming; likely to be out of our lives altogether for a very long time....</p><p></p><p>Trying to be grateful they were safe, hanging onto that; berating myself for leaving last Fall...reliving the horror of what they saw, of what happened to them. </p><p></p><p>Making the best of it that we could, everything flashing and gleaming, playing out in slow motion and covered with a thin patina of dread.</p><p></p><p>Strange, disjointed dreams and broken sleep. Desperate, repeated refocusing. Believing for the best; being so grateful when that helped, being so grateful for any smallest surcease....</p><p></p><p>It is what it is. Never was very pretty. We made it through. There is no prize, at the end.</p><p></p><p>Empty.</p><p></p><p>"replenished, relaxed, and happy"</p><p></p><p>To recreate our lives in living color; in richness, and joy....</p><p></p><p>That puny little part that says I knew, that says I should have known. That same, crazy feeling I chased and was chased by, for all those years. </p><p></p><p>Wanting to run away; wanting to not be angry, to not be scared and so desperately tired.</p><p></p><p>Things are unraveling a little, around the edges.</p><p></p><p>"A practice, a new beginning, a new life which required great care."</p><p></p><p>I wasn't going to post this. But it is helpful to know what each of us confronts and how she handles it. Finally having a look at what these past months have meant was cathartic. I didn't know all those emotions, all that blame and guilt and frustration and shame and anger were rattling around in here. </p><p></p><p>One more time, Recovering, you have been able to help me tap into what is happening under the brittle smile, beneath the rigidly controlled, selected, and censored reaction. I am understanding a little more about what detachment is, about how it works, about what love looks like through that lens.</p><p></p><p>I am posting your phrase about this part being a practice, a new beginning, a new life which requires great care, on the fridge.</p><p></p><p>husband and I will be discussing this, tonight.</p><p></p><p>Thank you, Recovering. I feel comforted; stronger, for having acknowledged what was happening under all that laughter, under all that baking and cleaning. </p><p></p><p>Cedar</p><p></p><p>One more thing. I liked the part about mental discipline very much. (When you wrote that you would have to force a shift in your thoughts, retrain yourself to stay in and cherish, the moment.)</p><p></p><p>Also, the part about finding and following what we love. You are right. That is the signpost that we are on the right path to recovering ourselves and our capacity to cherish our own lives.</p><p></p><p>"An entirely new existence which requires great care and nurturing and time...."</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="scent of cedar, post: 608001, member: 1721"] A practice, a new beginning, a new life which required great care.... True. **************** Ah, of course that makes sense. This is Post-Traumatic Stress. Marshaling every bit of strength for every phone call, for every social engagement, for every morning. Expecting to hear that a body had been identified, that this part was over and the next phase would begin. Ferreting out every bit of information we could glean from any source; searching the streets of the city where she was, seeing horrible things there but never, ever spotting her.... Coming to horrified attention whenever the local news reported a stabbing, a theft, the routing of homeless people from the downtown tourist areas. Preparing for the July family gathering, and for the company that was coming, later that month. Fielding questions without displaying the horror at the heart of it. Pretending things were okay, pretending WE were okay. Pretending any of it mattered, when it was like we could hear a clock, ticking down the seconds.... Our grandchildren not here, not coming; likely to be out of our lives altogether for a very long time.... Trying to be grateful they were safe, hanging onto that; berating myself for leaving last Fall...reliving the horror of what they saw, of what happened to them. Making the best of it that we could, everything flashing and gleaming, playing out in slow motion and covered with a thin patina of dread. Strange, disjointed dreams and broken sleep. Desperate, repeated refocusing. Believing for the best; being so grateful when that helped, being so grateful for any smallest surcease.... It is what it is. Never was very pretty. We made it through. There is no prize, at the end. Empty. "replenished, relaxed, and happy" To recreate our lives in living color; in richness, and joy.... That puny little part that says I knew, that says I should have known. That same, crazy feeling I chased and was chased by, for all those years. Wanting to run away; wanting to not be angry, to not be scared and so desperately tired. Things are unraveling a little, around the edges. "A practice, a new beginning, a new life which required great care." I wasn't going to post this. But it is helpful to know what each of us confronts and how she handles it. Finally having a look at what these past months have meant was cathartic. I didn't know all those emotions, all that blame and guilt and frustration and shame and anger were rattling around in here. One more time, Recovering, you have been able to help me tap into what is happening under the brittle smile, beneath the rigidly controlled, selected, and censored reaction. I am understanding a little more about what detachment is, about how it works, about what love looks like through that lens. I am posting your phrase about this part being a practice, a new beginning, a new life which requires great care, on the fridge. husband and I will be discussing this, tonight. Thank you, Recovering. I feel comforted; stronger, for having acknowledged what was happening under all that laughter, under all that baking and cleaning. Cedar One more thing. I liked the part about mental discipline very much. (When you wrote that you would have to force a shift in your thoughts, retrain yourself to stay in and cherish, the moment.) Also, the part about finding and following what we love. You are right. That is the signpost that we are on the right path to recovering ourselves and our capacity to cherish our own lives. "An entirely new existence which requires great care and nurturing and time...." [/QUOTE]
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The calm after the storm...feels kind of blah
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