I wrote this when I was still at the farm, not even a month had gone by yet..
Pain, Grief, Fear, Agony, Rage. These simple words are supposed to describe the emotions of a human being. The overwhelming intensity of feeling that one does even know how to express it. These four and five letter words are supposed to tell you how I feel. How I view the world. How it affects me. And I wonder how can these simple silly words capture the moment to moment emotions that I feel. I can’t find an answer. Yet I keep writing, because maybe one day, if I’m a good enough writer, others will understand, will feel and see as I might.
I smile. With pain to a favourite memory that will never be created better because she is gone. I cry. With a pain so intense that I cannot do anything but feel the tears course down my face, raw with salted grief. I laugh. Pain tightens my heart even as I try to lift my spirit. She always laughed. She sang silly songs she’d make up just because. My laugh is hollow compared to hers. Empty and mocking. I buy some cookies I like. Pain rushes in as I remember…their her favorite. Every good thing in my life, is now accented with pain. She had something to do, say or simply enjoy the things in my life. I go through my day, doing what needs to be done. And every time a quiet moment sneaks up, a memory surfaces and the pain touches for a second. And a far off voice tallys the pain as it steadily climbs in amount. I sigh tiredly, there is nothing I can do. I tell myself, don’t focus on the pain. Don’t let it touch your thoughts. For than it will affect your actions. So I accept the pain, and wonder how much more will come. How much more I can feel without being dead inside.
My body hurts, my mind hurts, my heart hurts. My Soul hurts and there is nothing I can do about it. Never again will I know something other than pain.
Today: I wish I could say I feel different now, over two years later. But I don’t. Actually with my recent back problems I’m probably in more pain. I’ve developed a way to “deal” with the emotional pain. It goes into ‘cannot feel this’ section of my brain. Later it becomes a deep ache in my head or often my chest, then when I notice the physical I’ll wonder what it is and when I take a deep look I remember and let it be. So it just sits there for a while until it eventually goes away. It’s not the healthiest way to deal I know. But right now it’s all I can do. Sigh…that line “How much more I can feel without being dead inside” it haunts me now. The answer I can say now two years later is more than I could ever fear. Ever dream up in my worst nightmare. Ever believe if someone had told me just how much more I could take and feel. See it still hasn’t stopped. I never could make myself completely turn off, I couldn’t be the very lie I despise the rest of the world for and just stop feeling. Gods know how I wanted to. The closest I ever get is when the PTSD kicks in and I dissociate from whatever is going on. But I’m not in denial. I know it’s there and what it is. When the physical pain wears down the barrier that keeps the emotional pain at bay I am overwhelmed with pain. I’m left with no choice but to go into the very heart of the pain (I guess the other option is massive amounts of drugs that I have never taken). For alcohol or any basic pain medication won’t touch it. By diving into the bottomless sea of physical and emotional pain I find peace for a while. The process leaves one wrung out and used in every manageable way. The next day I could eat a moose, sleep for a year and not feel ever again and it still wouldn’t be enough. But that process is what saves my ass in the first place. So I shouldn’t complain but it’s rather hard to explain how I get to such a state. I happened upon this purely by accident. In my life I have had times where there was NOTHING I could do (or felt that I make happen at that moment). In respect of others I had to just lie there and wait for morning. No bathtubs to ease the physical pain, not books to forget the emotion pain (or light to read them by) no phone or computer to distract me from my state. Just lie there silently (or sit depending on where and when). That quiet silent battle is quite possibly the hardest one any of us might ever face in life. And I’m a veteran of many wars.