Wednesday, 2 September 2015
HELP! How do I find back to
I am full of admiration for people who do what I’ve been doing for just the past four months for years, people who are forced into it for the long haul, until such time as death-in-life itself resolves the problem. An ending in terror seems much preferable to me than a terror without end. And don’t tell me that one gets used to it. Of course one does, one gets used to anything, or so they say. But at what cost? Being ground to dust between the millstones of fear and anger, exhaustion and jaw-clenching determination to see it through, leaves no room for the joy of living consciously.
How do you do it? How do you retain a sense of yourself when life itself seems to be suspended?
For me, the worst is over. In place of fear of the future there is now a void, a hole where this all encompassing feeling of frantic helplessness is slowly seeping away like a trickle of water in the sand. You’ve been holding your breath, every fibre of your being has been directed towards survival; when it’s over, you stand there wondering who and what you were before. Before and After. Before and After. The Before has been lost and the After is as yet a nebulous concept.
It’s funny, but when I myself was on the edge between living and not living I was never aware of losing myself. Perhaps one only does that when one is fighting for the continued existence of another person? Perhaps one ‘knows’ that one is not going to die, at least not yet? Not now?
Whatever it is, I think that it’s easier to cope with personal catastrophe than someone else’s, a loved one’s, catastrophe.
I am selfish enough to want ‘ME’ back, in capital letters. No doubt, since that famous 'corner has been turned’ I shall be able to dig deep and resurrect remnants of myself; I don’t know what the future holds but I may not ever feel quite as overwhelmed and powerless as I did during the past four months. Acceptance may be the answer, acceptance and trusting to a sense of survival.
I may be around a bit more again. Blogging, trite as it may be to some, offers a kind of release from the daily grind and can lead out of oneself into the wider world.