Some thoughts

While I try to keep some happy posts in here to show that it’s not all bad and that I’m not focusing on just the pain, sometimes I just have to say whats really going on. And it’s not happy, it’s not pretty, it’s not easy to hear (or read in this case) and there are no quick fixes and “it will be better soon” to smooth it over. Sometimes it sucks. Sometimes there ARE NO WORDS. This seems to be one of those times for me.

See the daily struggle of “where will I sleep” and “how will I get my next meal” and “will I make enough money this month” is a great way to distract ones self from the inner pain. But Now that I’ve got a place to live, a car and a job (I must doing something right) the pain can start to bug me and tell me it’s not forgotten me… The pain consists of memories that I can’t quite handle, thoughts I’d rather not dwell on, a grief so great there is no measuring it and a void that is the black hole in my mind where all the good things end up, leaving me in silence with a pain I don’t know what to do with. And I’ll call people at four in the morning because they said they want me too when I feel like this. And I say, “I’m sad, so distraughtingly sad, and I don’t know how to “be” let lone do with such intense emotions. They don’t know to say either. I love them for listening, for picking up the phone and not telling me that I just need to get over it.  Even though they’ve no words, no wisdom of what the fuck I’m supposed to do now, they help because they’ll listen to my grief ridden words of nonsense and babble. And I love those friends and family who will answer the phone at such odious hours.

The last couple of days all  I do is sleep. It’s like my soul is given up and just wants sleep the pain away. If I could actually cry I would bawl myself into a senseless exhaustion every night, but all that happens is tears, hot bitter tears run down my face as if it’s raining grief and for hours I lay awake in an agony of grief. I’ve a feeling I wouldn’t notice a knife in the chest for the amount of pain that already resides there. I’m buried alive with grief and nothing can dig me out. My brother’s faces come to mind. Gods I miss them. Their wonder beautiful faces. I cannot be there with them and ease their pain and that bites. I can only hope that know I love them and I want to be with there them and will again when I can. But the phone calls and text of “when you coming back?” cut a little deeper each time. I hope they can one day understand on some level that I had to go and that I partly had to go for them.  And that it’s because of them I’m still here and fight with the demons inside my head to stay and be true to this life.

It’s hard, I’m not sure people quite understand that word actually come to think of it, but it’s HARD to be here, in life when it’s been cruel and twisted, when everyone I ever needed let me down. When I’ve been betrayed in ways I’m not sure I knew were possible. Even before she was taken away life wasn’t easy and light. People suck and some of those people like little kids who can’t do anything about it. Mom was that light in the darkness that already existed for me. To have her taken away from me and my wonderful family who needed her so, by someone who I thought was a friend, who was part of the family, someone who I thought loved me. Betrayal doesn’t seem to encompass what I’m trying to say. So life in any context is HARD. Most people have no words, no tangible thoughts that actually have depth to them of the one “incident” let lone the entirety of the situation.

Since I’ve been working on this for 3 days I guess I’ll post it and write more later.


2 thoughts on “Some thoughts

  1. That it’s honest down to the bad editing that probably has Seth grinding his teeth and writers shaking their heads at my futile attempt to put thoughts into words. That it’s close enough to the truth of what is dwelling inside my head that a few family members have requested that I move back to the farm or closer to them in fear of me “doing something stupid” ~ of which I I am not contemplating and I wish that there was some way that they could understand that my writing isn’t a cry for help but for a whisper for their ear or in this case ‘eyes’ to hear me for what I am ~ despairingly human, damaged and broken in about every-way possible but trying to survive and LIVE a truth that would honor Mom’s spirit in life.

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