Where does one begin?
Let's start with today, the here and now
Playing on the reward systems in order to regain some form of order in life. Being able to pick up clothes from the bed and tidying up (points rewarded to self), being able to clean dishes (points rewarded to self), opening the curtains,windows, letting in sunlight and the sea breeze air (points again rewarded to self), being able to write this now (major bonus points).
It is amazing how life easily losses meaning and the little things that once were not valued (easy routines and part of daily life) present themselves as very meaning and rewarding. It is even more amazing that the bigger things one wished to achieve, become muted become like mount Kilimanjaro (too high to climb and too complex to achieve)
Infantilisation is the word, I will give it; learning how to grow back into life.
Flash back six-eight months, never did I imagine that life would be flipped upside down yet again.
Some existentialist would yell, shit happens get on with love and value life more now. Ah, if only it was that easy.
Never did I imagine, I would live without yet again and so soon. So I have learnt and adapted to a surrealist life again. Lets be honest when life stopped, so did mine. So woke again today, yet another morning of learning to live without.
As I type, birds are chirping, traffic is moving along, the windy is blowing through the curtains .. it is all noise of and for the living. There is a disconnect and discontent for all life's representatives for these reps do not motivate me enough or shake my inner core to jolt me back into the land of the living; rather I jilted and cheated by life and its meaning and purpose. So as just I become a rebel without a cause against life meaningless functions
The surrealist in me dreams of going for long lovely walks by the sea, or going to the park to layout and soak sun. Only these things which once matter, do not touch my inner core or radiant easily through me. Nowadays the sun touches only the surface or my skins and does not in deep enough, for there is nothing within to embrace. It's radiance has become too bright, that sunglasses have become an every second accessory to block of the rays which symbolise nothing at the moment.
Then the exaggerated surrealist in me dreams of all the nice sporty activities which will churn me back into social contact, and into being with otherness, amongst the living. Easy right??? I wish so, or possibly do not wish so. For a reconnection with all things living, might just mean yet another loss, of what is already lost- the inner pain remains one symbolic thing to hold to for as long as possible; even though unbearable at times.
Caught in between two worlds, the here and now and in the middle or somewhere, anywhere but here; possibly in the here and now, and not completely here. The here and now has become a world of what could be but it is so hard and unattainable, even baby steps are hard. Now the surreal world is exciting its where everything is actualised, and it's a dreamlike state of what can be and all the possibilities in the world; it is the escape. In the end, the two worlds collide and nothing happens, everything standstill for a long time. It is the train crush of emotions, emotive action, or none emotive actions.
Within all this toxic complexity or trying to live but not fully living, there is battle of wanting to revert back to the - I used to be, and visualisation of self, of how I used to be and what I used to achieve. Next steps in frustration of I need it now, I need me to be again and now. Then follows the anger and annoyance with self. The tune playing, is like a child who wants and needs, all the time, but can't get it and may never be able to get the one and only thing that is now gone.
Then one starts to wonder why life has indeed moved on, whilst one is stood-still-I turns into a spectator of life and its muses . The tune of self-pity plays repeatedly of the same chorus of why can't I, I should be able to; repeatedly on a high inner volume for so long it becomes annoying. Next guilt steps in, as one wonders, "friends" have either moved on, don't care enough for some have disappeared completely without a word; one yearns for reconnection that is meaningful and fully understanding. One understands, off course it is because they just don't know to be, with a soul that's half living. So the living becomes an isolated daily activity; with the t-shirt statement, "of truly being alone in this world." It is possible to be alone even if surrounded by many including loved ones, for this journey was not meant to be interpreted in the same way by everyone. So as people can't travel the journey with you, you start to wonder what is the point of engaging and reconnecting for it seems so much of an effort- selfishness, childlike anger steps in; for it all feels its not mutually beneficial or reciprocal relationships.
So for the sake of living and engaging, "bills have to be paid at least right??" one engages and connects with the world in a falsified manner; social etiquette fine tuned and to it's best tune.
Work I am informed the professional world of the living, forms a structure and order for engaging in some way. For without work, there would be no other form of engagement. As it stands now the world has lost meaning and it's meaningfulness. So the body and mind have stood still as the world continues to move on. Stunted and trapped by something unique that even a pacifier could not ease the soul.
My dear friends, I am told this is on some level what grief, bereavement is all about. Stage number 6-8 or something; month six, day ??? but who is counting right? Inertly each day matters, as its living flipped upside down, as doing becomes meaningless and other temporary skillful means to pacify through the navigation of life whilst minimising the yearning and painful soul.
All the intelligence is knocked out of you, and the need to achieve becomes complex that one needs an aid to be guided back into life. It is the living without ....
It all boils down to living without for how can the world that once made sense, make sense at all now. So through the frustrations of wanting to embrace and engage life again now and today; the kicking screaming,, annoyance because I cant do everything so easily as I used- all become a norm to now, today way of living. I am told over and over again it's take time. I am told to take it easy on myself and not be too hard on myself.
Life should be easy to live and just fully function again right?? It is the living without
I lost my soul, my precious to a cruel, deadly and terminal disease (I watched my soul, my half die a little each day until it was time). It is the living without .....
I learnt to accept that death was inevitable and someday all of us will soon perish, including I. When death knocks on your door when you least expect, even before you planned to welcome it; it knocks your soul to the core and shakes the earth like an earthquake until you too filled as though you have been swallowed by the earth and deep into the ground (the only difference is that one is still part of the 'living').
It is like a dream, for how can one even say it out loud. How can one ever dream that in their life time, a soul younger than them before it's even matured into adulthood would ever been snatched away too quickly from life, within a short space of time?
It is the living without, the knowing....
It the living and know that graduation, wedding, children, grandchildren will never happen; not for her. It is the realisation and knowing that, I will not be stood in a swanky room, seeing her in a her own graduation gown, her first work outfit- a fancy suit, neither seeing her shining in her magical sparkled and glamorous wedding dress. It is the living without and knowing, the realising that life has gone and death has happened
It is the living without and learning again to do without my half and my soul, my little angel, my little not so title younger sister.
Is it the living without you....
Love you forever more plus infinity xoxo
By CFM_27/06/15
