Love lost, read and found
There is something eating me and I am sick of running from what it could be. There’s a silent scream inside my stomach and a dread feeling melancholy!
What is left of the living when death takes so much and so randomly?
I just want to be able to cope, without in the process, the fear of losing ‘me’.
I am strong enough I feel, for the battle with ‘loss’ and to prevent it overwhelming me, but a fight with ‘rage’ is a long drawn out thing an it’s on-going and it’s affect is demoralising and all too consuming .
Rage! I feel it chasing me! Breathing down my neck! Pushing! Pushing away at me! Like a demon inside it bullies me, torments me and even sickens me. Like a cancer eating away my morale. But why is it here dwelling in me?
The battle with loss is not an immediate thing, the way that grief sometimes might be. I guess differing circumstances will mean everyone will be impacted slightly differently when they face it. But it’s not only dealing with what you are facing, that is the testing part, it’s facing what you have to give up!
We have such a capacity to take on many things in our lives and indeed to somehow adapt. But the key to success in all of these things is to find moderation and a balancing act. No one manages more than one thing without giving up a just a little of something else instead. As a parent this feeling is quickly magnified and before you know it, instinctively you give up some of the things that you knew. A dedicated parent unselfishly puts their family first, and everything else goes wherever it fits!
Well that was the ‘me’ before Katherine died at least. Naturally since her passing I was wrapped up in grief. My breathing is often rapid, shallow and short. No matter how many long deep and slow breaths I take, I can’t seem to iron out the knot in my chest. When the grief threatened to swallow me I started to run. I ran to escape the emotional furnace of home and to help me draw air and to expand lungs. It was a stress busting thing! But I also tried to run from constant grief by keeping myself busy and meeting up with old family and friends. Mostly those on the outer fringes of my inner circle where the air was less stifling and the doom clouds more distant. But there is only so much running you can do, before you decide to turn around and fight! But you can’t run from or fight, what is only inside of you.
You never see change coming, but it comes just the same!
Rage is worse still, because it creeps up on you unannounced and climbs inside without you even knowing until you no longer recognise ‘you’!
Rage is a terrible thing. I try to fight its poison but it’s me against me! But how did this battle get there in the first place? It is easy enough to explain but to justify it is harder to accept. I guess the feeling comes of turmoil. Recent frustrations in life have me juggling a lot. My wife had to die and I was not given time to be able to think, process or even reflect. The room to privately grieve was a luxury missing from me.
Instead all that was needed from mum, our daughters now asked of me.
I put them first as much as I can in most of all things. But the burden is heavy and I carry a lot, but when you can’t carry everything, you prioritise what to put down.
It is hard to put down anything you love or have an interest in. The things that we love are the things that make us what we are, so it is with resentment that we leave them behind.
My girls are so very young and so very different in age. At 5, 10 and 15 years of age their needs are very different and so very many. There is no one fit for all!
I have to tend to them all, and drop all I intend, and whatever’s on their mind gazumps what was on mine! Then routine demands more than one has to give, and the hours it takes, I find no time to forgive. What I must put on hold, serves me back only ‘conflict’!
This is how it starts, how it starts bubbling! Rage is brewing in the guise of just stress!
As a parent we are all used to this.
As a widowed parent, things have got harder still. Now I feel like I am constantly drowning. My girls take all that I’ve got. If I was properly set I might manage but I am still scrambling in the adjustment of losing Kath from my home and though I am able to smile, laugh and play, there is chaos inside my mind and in my day to day living too. Chaos is now the order of the day where ‘Order’ once reigned.
I wonder at times if I am just another single frustrated lone parent now, who for a while in my life, just happened to get lucky! I don’t begrudge my girls for one minute. They had the most precious thing taken away. The love and presence of a mother at home and in their lives is nothing I can fix, no matter how much I stand up and fight. Sometimes in putting everything down so that I can carry them all, I feel like I might suffocate and die, until all that there is left of me is nothing, but them.
This feeling doesn’t come without a price! For me in this way, my anger manifests itself and without meaning to, I lash out. Sometimes I think, people might feel uncomfortable in my presence and the air around me must feel heavy, but in those instances it’s me who can’t breathe. You never realise there’s a wild animal inside of you, until you feel like it’s trapped in a cage.
It is easy to occasionally lash out without meaning to, when you keep too much pent up inside. But there is only so much you can carry inside until you have to let some of it out. The stressful part is trying not to let it spill out into your life and in turn hurt others, but suppressing it all is what makes rage, and it is rage that causes it to spill over in the form of lashing out. If it’s burning inside, it will come out as steam and those in close proximity are bound to get burnt.
Rage comes lacking consent. It is there because you didn’t willingly give up on being you. There are things that make us what we are and in turn happy and exercising them makes us able to run. Losing these things can make us malfunction and in turn lose sight of ‘who’ we once were, and this can help us breed rage. This same rage takes us further still from ‘ourselves’ until we no longer recognise or relate to what we once were and makes the rage even more. I feel like I am just a stone’s throw from who I once was. I can see glimpses of it but it’s still out of reach. A tantalising teasing mocking reminder of ‘me’! Rage this way, is self-sustaining!
The worst thing is hearing my-self when I snap. It leaves a loathing bad taste of venom only loosely sweetened with sugar to dress up the anger inside. When I catch a glimpse of what I can sound like it is horrible and miles away from all I am or once was, and the revelation only adds to the rage in ever perpetuating ways.
This feeling can escalate too, until someone eventually confronts, or asks you to check yourself, and then you find you have the impossible left to do. Because when you finally look inwards you see all the horrors you were running from all along, and the only place left is to go if you dare, is to let emotions finally over power you until you have cried out every last bit of poison grief you have left, and then accept to move forward with just the remaining scars.
I can’t cry openly. Or on shoulders that would hold me. No, there is always a silent scream hiding in me.