ELL....
A very deep and dark place...
I almost feel like I could say something profound, it's right on the tip of my mind, but it hasn't made it's way to my fingers. I would like to say I'm healed, all good, in a good place emotionally. If I said that it would be the lie of the century. I've never found myself to be so emotionally low and the feeling of complete hopelessness is the mainstay of my pallet. I could paint only a monochrome storm if I had canvas in front of me.
I do try to "cheer myself up" but it's only a temporary stay as I can NOT fix what is causing the trouble inside me. I can't bring the dead back to life, I can't go back and undo the mistakes I made, I can't cure addictions, and I can't even find the words to explain myself. What once was my sanctuary now feels like a prison.
I have kept a written journal since 1996...the day my precious Sundance died...I had to get that hurt out of me, put it someplace else so I wrote down the emotions, the sorrow, the sadness and the disbelief. Now I have soooo much sorrow in me I can't even write it out. It simple lays there and rots. My paper is blank my journal untouched. The feelings follow me around like a cloud of bad omens.
I try to fix it all up in my mind, I imagine how life could be, if only, but then I have to come back to the real world and deal with "there is no butter in the fridge, and I have just toasted the perfect small everything bagel." Ordinary things fall through the cracks and the motivation to do something about it turns to silly putty.
I purged some things...one day I saw some clutter. I can't deal with clutter in my surroundings, my van is a complete mess and I have to address that...but my house is normally clutter free. The cluttered and muddled thinking has spread to my van, my laundry room, and my house. Suddenly I saw the clutter and it had to go! So I went on a cleaning spree. I tossed out, I tucked in closets, I dusted under the bed, I collected filed the paid bill stubs...I toss out my old PC Tower that I have dragged around since 2003...
I even moved my sweet Casey's sleeping bed out of the bedroom. It has lay empty for 16 months, the smudges he left with his dirty paws still right where he left them. I however only made it to the laundry room with it and then I broke down and wept like a child who was lost in the woods, I put the vacuum away, I hung the duster up, stashed the dust pan by the trash can and called it done.
How can I toss that out? It's like tossing him out. I just can't do that. Dealing with grief the past four years has taken a huge toll on me. I am no longer the same person, I don't get that same excitement that I once did from the activities I enjoy doing...I find it very hard to get OUT of my own way.
I can't go into depth of what is at the root of my sadness, I do know what it is I just cant share it with the world right now. I can only continue to WANT things to change, things I have no control over.
I understand so many things now that I never understood before, it has not made me happier only it has put me in a place of bitter acceptance. I feel any wisdom I had is irrelevant, I am yearning for just an ounce of hope.
Death by fire or death by ice is just as dead in the end.
"he is running a 100 miles an hour in the wrong direction"
Casting Clowns.
I do try to "cheer myself up" but it's only a temporary stay as I can NOT fix what is causing the trouble inside me. I can't bring the dead back to life, I can't go back and undo the mistakes I made, I can't cure addictions, and I can't even find the words to explain myself. What once was my sanctuary now feels like a prison.
I have kept a written journal since 1996...the day my precious Sundance died...I had to get that hurt out of me, put it someplace else so I wrote down the emotions, the sorrow, the sadness and the disbelief. Now I have soooo much sorrow in me I can't even write it out. It simple lays there and rots. My paper is blank my journal untouched. The feelings follow me around like a cloud of bad omens.
I even moved my sweet Casey's sleeping bed out of the bedroom. It has lay empty for 16 months, the smudges he left with his dirty paws still right where he left them. I however only made it to the laundry room with it and then I broke down and wept like a child who was lost in the woods, I put the vacuum away, I hung the duster up, stashed the dust pan by the trash can and called it done.
How can I toss that out? It's like tossing him out. I just can't do that. Dealing with grief the past four years has taken a huge toll on me. I am no longer the same person, I don't get that same excitement that I once did from the activities I enjoy doing...I find it very hard to get OUT of my own way.
I understand so many things now that I never understood before, it has not made me happier only it has put me in a place of bitter acceptance. I feel any wisdom I had is irrelevant, I am yearning for just an ounce of hope.
Death by fire or death by ice is just as dead in the end.
"he is running a 100 miles an hour in the wrong direction"
Casting Clowns.
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