Thursday, September 6, 2012

All Things Must Pass Away

I've been down today, so far down that my eyes feel like maybe they're holding about a quart of extra saltwater apiece. You know that feeling? How if someone just asks how you're doing, hey! how you doin'? your eyes start leaking out that extra water and they ache and they feel sort of hot and very, very heavy.
It's an unpleasant feeling to say the least.
And I know why I'm feeling this way to a degree and I do not care to talk about it but I was wondering why on earth I have taken one small thing and made it into a sort of a death the way I have. I mean, sure, I'm a drama queen but it feels like I'm mourning today, grieving and I just figured out that I am.

And they say, and I have found this to be true, that every death brings back every other death you've mourned although mostly when they say that, they're talking about real deaths of real actual humans. I think to a degree, though, it works about the same for other sorts of deaths or at least losses. Losses that we all go through and grieve, starting perhaps with that first big one- the loss of the perfect environment which we knew in our mother's wombs and which we must abandon at birth. From there we can go on to the loss and death of such things as our innocence, our trust, our old dead drunk daddies, our ability to see magic in the everyday surroundings of our worlds, our virginities, our self-respect (we can lose that one over and over and over again right up until our real deaths as far as I can see from my vantage point and experience), a good many hopes and dreams and expectations and then before you know it, you've lost your own face as it morphs into some old person's and your strong muscles and your pretty skin and your ability to remember why you walked all the way across the house to the bedroom and you stand there and think why did I come in here? and you feel old and stupid and forget it when your kids say, "Do you remember when this happened?" and you have to admit that no, not one tiny bit do you remember when that happened and so- did it really? Yes, but so what?

It all adds up.

Some days it adds up to so much heaviness that your eyes fill up with saltwater and feel hot and achy and you don't want to talk to anyone and you feel like life is nothing BUT death and loss or at least that's how it feels to me today. You look around and people are living amazing lives and doing amazing things- people your very own age!- and you, well, you're thinking, maybe I'll fold the laundry. You're thinking, those flowers have been dead for a week. I should throw 'em out. You're thinking I'm never going to be cute again. 
You're thinking maybe I should shave my legs and then you're thinking what's the fucking point? 

Well, I don't know, don't ask me. Maybe it's just to be here, to bear witness to firespike blooming, to the first sasanqua petals fluttering to the ground, to the way the light falls on a certain day at a certain moment in time.

That seems like it's setting the bar pretty low, though. Doesn't it?

Yeah. Feels like grief today. Feels like I'm mourning it all including the real human people whom I have loved and who have gone on already and the ones I've yet to lose, too. Feels like I'm mourning the loss of every stage of my life that I thought would last forever and certainly did not.

Which, in some cases, is a very, very good thing.

I need to remember that too.

Probably most of all that's what I need to remember.

Well, that and my debit card pin number. If I should ever decide to leave Lloyd and go buy anything again I would definitely need that and some day I'll lose that too, you can bet on it.

Maybe by then I'll be too wack to know or care. I hope so.

Yours truly...Ms. Moon


  1. I think you and I are on the same wavelength today, Ms. Moon. Hoping that this feeling passes, for both of us.

  2. Oh My God, I could bore you to tears with all the times I feel this way. When I hear great song and remember I'm not a singer anymore. I get dropped by riders I used to beat in races....on and on. You are describing the funk I have been living in since my stroke two years ago (who's counting? ME!).
    It really got the best of a few months ago, but a couple little victories saved me (and my wife and kids).
    Hang in there Moon Baby! I love your writing and even though we never see each other, I am so thankful you are in my blog life. I hope that matters.

  3. I'm sending you a whole lot of support and love. Your feelings are so human. What is extraordinary is your ability to share the truth in the moment. Sweet Jo

  4. sob sob. been feeling that way myself lately.especially about an hour ago.

  5. God. If I could have expressed it, this is what I would have said. Thank you for saying it with such teeth. And for making me feel less crazy and heartbroken and alone.

  6. Sorry I meant to say thanks for putting how I have been feeling, into words. Get better Sister Moon.

  7. Ahh what's wrong? :( I will email you tomorrow. I hope you are sleeping.

  8. I would like to give you a long and soft hug, with your permission, of course.

  9. Holy shit, Ms. Moon. You put words to a feeling that's been floating around my head all summer, and the ache in my heart this week. I don't know why we have to see everything through this lens. Or how other people avoid it, leading happy, productive and interesting lives way into their older years. I feel like some people get lucky with the aging, and others of us feel the whole thing, in every bone, pore and cell. Our emotions and thoughts and aches and pains and sorrows are just cranked all the way up, that's just the way it is.

    I'd give you a tissue and hug you if I could, and I'd thank you for saying what I can't find the words for. There is so much sadness happening around me to those I know and love, it's just too much some days. I don't want to know all this, I just don't, but there it is.

    You make me feel that if I could find the words to write the sadness weighing down my heart, that it would be ok. And that's your gift to us. You show us how easy it can be to bare your soul and tell the truth. Thank you so much. I wish your eyes weren't so full of saltwater. I can't remember how many times I've teared up today. 5? 6? Too many.

    And at the end of my day, I watched Gabby Giffords struggle to walk across the stage and say the pledge of alegience with that big smile on her face and I just cried a bucket. I'm glad I ended my day here, with you and my Bill Clinton length comment.

  10. Solitary Diner- Thank you for visiting. I hope you return. I'm grateful for your comment. It is good to know we are not alone.

    Brother Wrecking Ball- You have SO much to grieve. I know you do. But if we can't look back and see and honor what we've lost, how can we look ahead? We're going to be all right. I'm proud to think of myself as your friend. I truly am. You are a force and don't forget it.

    Sweet Jo- Thanks, sugar.

    Kristin- Sometimes when we're so sad we don't realize that we're just plain old sad for all of it. I think it's okay to realize that, admit it and to just be sad.

    Nicol- You sweetie.

    Angella- Baby- you are grieving, too. I know it. So much. So much to bear. You are NOT alone.

    SJ- I'm fine. Just...stuff. Life stuff. Nothing big.

    White Coat Dreamer- You got it. With thanks.

    Mel- On some days, it's just ALL too much to bear, isn't it? I love long comments. They make me feel touched and understood. So thank-you. And we're going to be okay. We are strong human beings. Like I said the other day- stronger than we know. We go on.

  11. yeah, I get it, even if I don't know the specifics.

    You're awesome. You're enough. You're like the rest of us: human and worthy of taking up space even if you aren't perfect. Thank god you and the rest of us aren't perfect.

    Fuck all the assholes and the rest of them too. We're all Team Mary Moon.

  12. I love Sara's comment.

    It's time for Mexico, is what I'm thinking.

  13. Death gets me reeling most of the time. I am not personally afraid for myself but for those others who I love and don't want to lose. I understand your thoughts. I wonder too much about how many days I have left and then don't appreciate the one that I am in. Analysis paralysis does that to me.

  14. Sending you love. The night before last I was walking and weeping, thinking that it was a terrible idea to have a boat dock. By the time the sun rises here tomorrow, your day will have already begun. I hope it's a good one.

  15. I have probably mentioned this before but it hit me so hard when I heard it.

    Do you remember the movie The Green Mile? John Coffee says this.

    "Because I want it over and done. I do. I'm tired, boss. Tired of bein' on the road, lonely as a sparrow in the rain...I'm tired of all the pain I feel and hear in the world everyday. There's too much of it. It's like pieces of glass in my head all the time. Can you understand?"

    There *are* people out there that seem like their lives are together. I know a lot of people like that. And then I look at myself and feel so pathetic. Why is everyone else 'getting it' and I struggle to answer the phone when it rings without feeling overwhelmed.

    The last time I saw my grief counselor she told me that there are some people that walk around on this earth that were never detached from Spirit. She believes our umbilical cords are still attached. It made so much sense to me when she said that because I feel SO deeply. Yes, I grieve so badly that some days I don't know how I can go on. But that same spirit also loves and feels so much deeply than most. My joy is deeper than most people feel. My compassion goes far deeper than most people I know.

    Yes, the bad times are really fucking terrible but when that dead weight lifts I am glad to be so sensitive. When you write you are so open and people are drawn to your openness and honesty and you draw other people who are still attached to Spirit.

    I feel sad that you are grieving today but I am so grateful that you are out there being honest because you help me get through.


  16. Yay for the firespike!

    I think the secret to satisfaction in life is EXACTLY the firespike -- and the trees and spiders and laundry and all the other little things that make up every day. Finding pleasure in those little things is the key to sustaining happiness and energy. And no, I don't think it's setting the bar low at all. We're programmed to find satisfaction in the small daily tasks and features of our surroundings. All this hooha about having more ambition and loftier goals is a creation of our culture, and it sets us up for disappointment. I don't mean to advocate being a slacker, but seriously, finding pleasure in the small things adds up to one big dose of pleasure.

    Easier said than done sometimes, I suppose, but that's my philosophy.

  17. Sometimes I think life is about loss - coping and enduring it. I guess it makes us grow, but it is the most difficult part of life. My father is 95 and has lost almost everyone he ever loved. They say that the one thing people over 100 have in common is not their diet, genetics or exercise. It's their ability to accept loss and keep on moving. I wish I could bottle what my father has and take a dose of it everyday. Hope your blue feelings subsides soon.

  18. Ms. Moon, you said everything I have been feeling especially this morning. Some days I just don't want to get out of bed. If not for my kids, I probably wouldn't. Yesterday I thought of you. I started feeling depressed and said to myself, the black dog is creeping in I think. And this morning it is there and I cannot shake it today. Anyway, I hope you feel better soon. Some days we just gotta walk through the dark to get to the light on the other side. I'm just glad you keep coming here to write. It always brings me comfort to read your blog.


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