Wednesday, April 26, 2017

Every Day

Every day, every day of my life I wake up and wonder why I'm still here.
Every day I get out of bed because there's no use staying in it, because even if I don't know why I'm still here, it is obvious that I am and if I am still here, I might as well do the things that need doing and so I do and the first business of the day- brushing my teeth and getting dressed- seems harder than anything I'll have to do for the rest of the day or maybe ever.

This is how it is.

I wonder why it is I do this. Why I wake up feeling like this every day.
Is it chemicals? Is it my life? Is it a curse that was put upon me at an early age, being fatherless, being abused, being worried all the damn time about everything that a child should never have to worry about? Did the worry and the fear dig a rut in my brain so deep that it takes all of my every day energy to pull out of it and then every night when I am asleep, I fall back into it?

I don't know.

I just know I get up and I get dressed and I keep on living and I keep on doing. I look around me and I see that I love just about everything in my vision from the red impatiens in a pot to the chickens scratching around the bird feeder to the green of the magnolia tree to the floorboards of my house to the way the light falls and hides and skitters and shines on the impatiens, on the red bird at the feeder, on the squirrels running across the yard and into the branches, their tails flicking as if they were crazy in love with life.

How can I hold all these things in one mind? The fear and the dread and the worry and the sorrow and yet, at the same time, the love and appreciation for it all?

It's a conundrum. It's a mystery.

It's just the way things are and by now I know that at some point in the day, for a moment at least, maybe many moments, I'll be free of most of the thoughts that chain me to sadness and will tomorrow too and we're going to need clean clothes and the chickens need clean water and there's so much to do and it surely helps if I do it and so I do.

14 comments:

  1. I'm sure I've said this before, but I truly think one of the secrets to happiness (or at least coping!) is being able to enjoy little things -- like the sun on the impatiens or hanging out the laundry. That's definitely the key to my own life. You expressed it beautifully here! And I, for one, am so thankful that you do what you do every day. (Including writing your blog!)

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    1. I agree, Steve, and I do so appreciate the little things. Which, if we are honest, are the truly important things.

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  2. Why are you still here? Oh, so many reasons. I will endeavor to articulate just one of the million of them, which is that so many of us beat a path to your virtual door daily, knowing we will find truth, life, love, and yes, your sorrow too, your anxiety and dread, but then so many of us share that too, for different reasons, in different ways, and when you speak of it so honestly, and so beautifully, too, it helps us know that we are in this together, and we can reach out a hand to one another, and we can survive it. I am sure you know how much your family desires your presence in their midst, even as you work to pull yourself out of the daily rut you describe. It's a form of PTSD, I think, a perpetual state of vigilance learned in childhood that is so exhausting to you now. But we need you dear Mary. We love you so much. And I, for one, am glad and grateful that you are still here. I hope this day gets easier. And tomorrow, too. Hugs and hugs.

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    1. I know I'm not the only one and frankly, I think that far more of us feel this in one form or another than we would believe. Thank you so much, SO much for your loving words, for your understanding, for your care, for your hand reaching out which I always feel as real as can be.

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    2. What she said... and much more eloquently than I could have... Virtual Hugs... Dawn... The Bohemian

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  3. ^^^^ I couldn't have said it any better!

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  4. This post made me cry. Because I wake up every morning feeling the same way. Lately, dying looks like a beautiful release. From that dread that holds my chest so tight that drawing a deep breath takes all my energy. But I can't kill myself because I can't leave that legacy with my kids. Lately, this place I am in is so dark that I can't even put it into words on my own blog because it just comes across as seeking attention. And so I write it here. So at least one person hears it and knows.
    Fuck, Mary. What did we do to deserve this?

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    1. Birdie, i understand every word you say here. I'm glad you said it. And Mary, see what I mean about you making a space for us to be?

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    2. We didn't do anything to deserve this. If I know anything, I know that. And I do know. And I do hear you. And it's okay to be honest with our words. In fact, I think it's one of the most important things we can do.
      And Angella, I do see. Thank you.

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  5. I too am walking this path. And Angella got it SO right about PTSD. My daughter had our first grandchild 3 days ago and this should be the most amazing time of my life, and there is SO much beauty & love in my life, but I sit here today barely able to raise my hands to type these words because of tears that won't stop, it is all too hard, too much. My son, who died almost 3 years ago, was born in the same hospital & it brought back so many memories. My husband & I are still struggling. A therapist recently told us that the trauma from that event has caused us to have PTSD, I didn't even realize that was what all of this was, but since reading up on it, it makes perfect sense. This eternal heartbreak & sadness of losing Ben, the terror of what you endured & the loss of your childhood innocence, all the traumatic events in everyone's lives, will never go away. We have to find our ways to cope & function and as you write so beautifully, remember all the love and appreciate the beauty when we can. May peace come to us all that suffer.

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    1. Yes, none of it ever goes away. At least not in my experience. But yes- we do go on, we learn to cope, we appreciate that which is good and loving and light-filled. Congratulations on your new grandbaby and of course this is the most wonderful thing in the world and yet, if we have been scarred, the most profound experiences, no matter how wonderful, can smother us.
      I wish YOU peace and I hope with all of my heart that you can experience the joy of this new wonder and miracle in your life.
      It is okay to be happy. May we learn that.

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    2. Thank you, Mary. Yes, smothered is exactly what I have felt like today and just totally inadequate to the task of living. Hopefully tomorrow will be better. "It is okay to be happy"...I will strive to remember this.

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  6. I concur with Angella about coming here and feeling safe to hear you and write your truth. My cat is trying to stop me from wtiting right now with his little bobbing head. What inspires me about you is that you keep going. I have a bad spell and I get back into bed. I'll remember your words. I love you!

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Tell me, sweeties. Tell me what you think.