I ponder the question: what would it take to gracefully accept your loss? Simple question, isn't it? Actually elegant in it's simplicity. No frills, no unnecessary details, or modifiers. No specifiers. Just what would it take to accept this loss (not failure) that has happened whether you wanted it it, and or caused it, gracefully. As in Grace Cathedral? Gracefully, does that mean without fighting it? Without tripping over yourself and falling over and over? Without temper tantrums? I don't even know if that is possible for me to do. Does it mean without judging myself. I am overcome with grief when I go there, to that idea, that question. I start making list of everything I've ever lost, every promise, every innocence, every illusion and belief I have had to put aside in order to learn something more about technique, to acquire new skills. It's really quite a task, an exercise in naming and acknowledging my many losses, big and small. And a sense of deserving to be loved, a conviction that I am lovable, and that I am capable of loving others, any others in a bigger way. A more vulnerable way. An unprotected scary way. Without rescuing. In a sense, letting myself of the hook of needing to fix anything and letting other people manage their passion, define their passion. I have crisis (pl?) around parenting as it shifts through the various stages. Yet I am literally surrounded by incredible beauty. From the peonies to mock orange to blooming sage and fox glove, marigolds, iris, roses. I find myself on the verge of tears so often, aware of my grief. My anger is incapable of protecting me now. I reach for it, like my beloved parents used to reach for a cigarette or a shot of gin. And then I pull back, and pick up a tissue instead. Not knowing where to turn for help, I turn inside. It's really about me, no one else (or everyone else?) So what is it about me? Why is it so difficult for me to give this up? This longing for my loss? Do I miss the temper tantrums? The adrenaline? The sense of feeling right and righteous? Is this grief a process of re-wiring my brain in a healthier way? Like the addict moving toward recovery? Do I need to just distance myself from the triggers, the known triggers? There are so many of them around, like bullies. We are all capable of being bullies, so how do we 'fess, notice when it's happening and change course? Wish for success in whatever form it may come. And to recognize it, when success comes to us (me).
There is something about the act of surrendering the desire for control, about recognizing that it isn't necessary or possible. And I feel like I do have occasional breakthroughs but that they are few and fleeting. I'm not always sure who I am at any given moment, I seem to change so quickly from one being to another. I'm not really ready to go, but I am so looking forward to it. There is a part of me that just wants to walk away from the situation, and the temptation to engage. I have enough copies of the letters to use in the book which will illustrate my point. Why do women stay in violent relationships? How do they recover? How do they make sense of the experience and the effects on their children? How do they deal with the trauma and PTSD, the flashbacks, and the residual impulses? The "death wish" and the self-hatred, self-judgement. I love my kids and I would never knowingly cause them harm or suffering. And I know they love their Dad, no matter what he does or says or thinks. Without ribbons or whistles, fame or fortune. That is built into the system. Right on the hard drive.