Wednesday, April 13, 2011

The Door is Bolted

I made a commitment some years back -- after 9/11, I believe -- to approach every single day from a standpoint of love. Not an easy thing to accomplish. Some days all I can manage is the faintest glimmer of an expectation that, when successful, gives depth and meaning to every step, every encounter. It's a "practice", much like yoga is a practice (and, I'm finding out, so is law). Allows us some measure of failure, allows repeated attempts at a measure of success. No surprise then that I'm struggling tremendously with this at the moment, attempting to keep the black beasts of spite/bitterness/betrayal/revulsion well back from the door.

But the betes noires claw at it ceaselessly and howl well past midnight, the bastards.

The cruelty of the world knocks me to the ground.

Be kind, to those you love
and those that you no longer love.


  1. My Daddy had an expression ,"Katie bar the door." So, bar the door . You don't need to go out there right now and you really do have everything you need inside. I just know it.

  2. This bizarre 'throw-away-world' causes so many upsets. It's about time we all hung-on, grasped what we've got, and appreciated more.

  3. Ah, this is hard. I'm here, sitting with you.

  4. I find it utterly human and understandable that you feel bitter, angry, rejected, used -- everything else would be just plain super-human and artificial and certainly not healthy in your state of coping -- it's an essential part of your personal work of grief. Do and feel whatever you need to do and feel in order to regain your balance and love of the world. Your loving resolution is wise, empathetic, very ethical and helpful, but not applicable to every state of overcoming loss, lifting boulders and crossing gorges. You have been wronged, deeply hurt and cut off -- allow yourself to be yourself, with all your shadows and dark sides and beasts; they're part of all of us and sometimes need some acknowledgement in order to stay put and in control. And: yes, love; but firstly: yourself. "Be gentle with the one who walks with grief./If it is you, be gentle with yourself."

  5. I think you're doing brilliantly.

  6. Yours is a righteous and noble practice. Just keep faking it until you make it..
    Hang on, hang in and we'll push our shoulders to the door with you.

  7. Just a paltry few words to say that I feel keenly a deep sadness for what you are going through. Some day I will tell you why, at this particular time in my life, I too find myself reeling amidst the flames of a crucible--It is too long a story for now, and irrelevant to what you are experiencing except--except that I feel we are in different rooms of the same vast chamber. I hear your cries, and I am tapping on the wall trying to say to you, "I am here." It is very scant comfort, I know, yet I will keep tapping. And in thousands of adjoining rooms, others are tapping too.

    We hear you, and your pain is also ours. We hear you. You are not alone.



  8. Yes, we hear you, T, you are not alone, as Nita Lou said. You are going through the stages of grief now. First hurt and shock and sadness, then anger.....go through it. It is healing, eventually.

  9. T., when my marriage ended, i vowed not to succumb to nastiness and pettiness. and i was almost completely successful. my only concern was that i get through the process and be able to look myself in the mirror. i think it matters; and it gave a structure to all interactions, something to focus on, instead of homicide. truly. it's like being a vegetarian for a little while; you just monitor every word directed toward the other. on your own, and among your trusted friends, do and say whatever you need in order to keep your strength up.

  10. As have most people who have survived this long I've gone through a form of this hell too.

    Among what helped me weather the evil passages was finding a form of martial arts, Bo, a form of stick fighting.

    Going to class gave a focus for my day, turned off my mind to focus on that, channeled my anger productively -- which, due to my background I couldn't help but turn upon myself self-destructively. It also helped wear me out, physically and mentally. Blankness, how passionately I longed for blankness then, how impossible it was to find it, for more than a minute or two. This was the best thing I ever did for myself.

    What I did wouldn't be for everyone -- we're all different. But all my usual healers and focuses just didn't work, so I found something radically different, and that helped enormously. Helped -- only time heals.

    Love, C.

  11. Most of life seems to be a practice of some sort...I believe the high road is never a wrong choice and am grateful when I can find my way there, but that is not always how it is. As others have said, please be gentle, please be patient with wherever you are. Your reminder that we be loving is taken to heart. xo

  12. Aunt T. I really like your last two lines; this advice is often neglected and i wonder why, because honestly it is SO MUCH MORE EFFORT to be cruel than to be kind. Even the effort it takes to frown exceeds that for a smile.
    You inspire me.


  13. love all the comments -- see what kind and wise people you have all around you? Just keep, breathing, keep talking, keep raging, keep gently reminding yourself of your ultimate goal: get through this whole and with dignity.