I will sit with you in the silence. You can’t stop crying, but you don’t have to stop. Just feel how you feel. let yourself feel the magnitude of what is present right now. Grieve. Don’t stop if you are still grieving. Cry until your tears dry on their own. And I am here beside you.
You don’t need to say anything. I won’t ask you any questions. I will just lay beside you. What can I do to comfort you? I can just quietly rest beside you and run my fingers through your hair. Or rub your shoulders. Or breathe on your neck. Or hold your hand.
Don’t stuff away your feelings. Where do you think you could hide them without losing more of yourself? I am not afraid of how much you feel or what you feel. It’s fine to be yourself. All of yourself. Even the parts you haven’t discovered. You won’t shock or disappoint me. Please, just be yourself and relax. Enlarge the borders of your safety. Lie down in peace. Smile peacefully. Lay down your strategies, defenses, and weapons for a renewed hope in peace.
I wish I could be swallowed up by a black hole … I mean figuratively, not the literal experience which might involve a physics of horrible dimensions.
I cry a lot.
Then I eat or sleep or watch TV or read before I start to cry again.
Sometimes I just sit and stare, oscillating between debilitating pain and lethargic numbness.
I feel really alone. I can’t talk about my problems with anyone. No can do anything to help me. No one would really want to either.
People tell me to be responsible for my life.
But I feel like I did try my best, but it still ended up like this. My best effort wasn’t enough. My skills and attempts to cope with everything that’s happened aren’t good enough for survival.
I feel really tired. It’s too hard to make changes that need to happen. It’s hard enough just keeping my head above water. Which I am not doing at the moment.
Maybe drowning is a better analogy.
Maybe it isn’t.
Black hole or drowning … there is clearly disaster.
My heart hurts. I am grieving. It feels like waves of sadness will never stop bashing me down. It feels like I can’t breathe. It feels like I am waiting to drown.
I feel waves of despair.
Sometimes I just want the pain to end.
I probably should spend some time looking at the past …
Seeing what has changed since then.
Seeing what hasn’t changed since then.
Seeing the themes of my life played out over time.
And perhaps seeing solutions too.
While reading this, I was stuck by the line: “Did I pick this?”
I see there the same question I ask myself now.
I see a rejection of responsibility. I see dissatisfaction with consequences. I see pain and heartache.
I see indecision and I see lack of confidence.
I see myself.
I don’t want to celebrate with you. I don’t want to laugh and smile for you while my heart is deeply torn.
While you enjoy happiness and cheer, I cry. And cry and cry and cry and cry and cry. Then I cry some more. I will cry until I can’t breathe. My chest will hurt. I will gasp for air. I won’t be able to speak at all. My throat will burn. My face will grow hot. I won’t have any more tears but I will still gasp for air while crying. I will cry until I can’t manage anything more than stillness. Still, my heart will be broken. Everything will look dark. I will still be in tremendous pain. And I will lie in that stillness and pain, unable to change anything.
So, I don’t want to celebrate the weddings of people too young to have had a broken heart (although I console myself knowing their parents will die … or their friends will die … or their spouse will die … or their children will die – someday, their heart will be wounded at least a little). I really would rather not see newborns held by their tired, but elated parents – parents seeing the world as newness through the experiences of their infant’s daily growth.
I don’t want to celebrate your birthdays or your successes or your fun times. Because I have a broken heart. Partnering with you in your joy is too hard while I live alone in my misery. Misery that only grows with each passing month. Misery that doesn’t dissipate with tears. Misery coming from a broken heart that may never heal. Misery from pain and loneliness so potent it knocks my breath and reason away.
I have a broken heart. I might die from my broken heart. Maybe tomorrow. Maybe next month. Maybe five or ten years from now. Since the hole only seems to be growing, healing is impossible. Medicine doesn’t seem to help. Time hasn’t started to work. Sympathy seems feigned and spiteful. Advice and direction are condescending. And presence and love are very rare, but so painful when they appear.
So, I won’t celebrate with you. Seeing you is painful, dressed up in your joy.
And clearly you can’t see me, in my overwhelming sorrow. Otherwise, wouldn’t you react differently?
Isn’t what people say during times like these, “Goodbye”?
I used to cry almost every single day. And by “cry” I mean uncontrollably weep until my voice left and breathing was only possible with gasps.
But I haven’t cried much in the last few weeks.
I did cry, after watching the happy couple finally start to date in the K-drama I love Lee Tae Ri.
Seeing young, innocent, hopeful love beginning invoked my own heartache and released my tears.
I was like that once.
And it is all over.
I can never return to the one I loved or the person I was when I fell in love.
First love has ended. My innocence has truly died.
Dreams can be very revealing.
In sleep, we process our lives. So of course, in our sleep, we deal with death or loss as well. But dreams about people gone from our lives can be strange when one wakes up. I have had several dreams, where in my sleep, a person has been impacting or affecting my life. Then I wake up, only to remember that this person can never physically enter my life again.
I can dream a person is hurting me and I am very frustrated or afraid. Waking up from this dream, there is always a painful thought, “He is gone” when I remember reality. That is slightly relieving but also very sad. The sorrow comes from me obviously still needing to process my hurt and pain. Even if the person that hurt me is dead, I am still alive and I was hurt. And there was never an apology.
But sometimes, the dream is happy. I am happy with this person in my dream, but upon waking, I remember I will never see this person again. That is much sadder, because all the good memories and all the memories I wanted to create in the future are over.
But what is most painful about dreams is how reality and the dream are so different. It feels like I was lying to myself in my sleep, whether I was still afraid, angry, or hopeful. My beliefs and reality didn’t match up.
Okay, at least I have started packing a few days before my international flight. My possible permanent international flight or at least, the flight that is moving all I foreseen needing in America with me out of South Korea.
But I am baking. Cookies. Because I had the ingredients for a recipe from scratch, a cookie mix from home, and an oven. Sigh. Yeah, I am baking instead of stuffing clothes into boxes or suitcases.
And I am depressed. Not just because I lived my life with my heart unaligned to the true north of joy. Not because I let someone pick me apart and dash me to pieces. But also because I am really leaving my home. The first and only home I made on my own. No family, no roommates. Only temporary pet guests.
Everything of my life from the last two years is coming before my eyes again. So many memories. So many hopes. So many disappointments. So many dreams. So many joys.
I am American for sure. I have way too much stuff. I have so many things to recycle, throw away, or give away.
Good bye home. Hello homelessness.
What will my life include in the future?
At times like these, I don’t always want to walk forward into the new future that awaits me.