Saturday, 12 January 2019

Waves become wings

I whine a lot, I know that. I have said before that I worry a bit about how this whining goes down with the people following along at home. So I have been thinking this evening about whether it's a really a good idea to be writing at the moment. Obviously, I made the decision that it's better than not writing, better for me, I mean.

Writing, not as a substitute for therapy, not as a plea for help, not as a specific and directed communication. Writing as thought, writing as my dear D.W. Harding characterised it: the putting of experience into words. Writing as articulation, as naming the parts and putting them into functional relations with each other.

I don't know what I'm going to find to say but it starts with this: I am very, very low. Rotten things are happening. And I am so, so miserable. I've been in some bad places (I mean, just last week I lost my favourite t-shirt) but I don't remember ever feeling this much negative emotion. (This Mortal Coil probably isn't helping, but fuck it.) Reaching out an arm to the shelf, taking down the key reference works from the library of memories of crises, what's happening now doesn't belong with any of the stories of past bad times. The difference is that I am stronger. In the past I have felt irreparably broken, unable to help myself or imagine help. But now, I don't feel shattered, personally compromised or destroyed in that way. Nor in any other way. It's a different sort of pain.

The image that comes to mind is of myself, a whole person, a valuable one with a lot of good things inside to give, pinned and bound and weighted down, seen only from a distance and obscured by heavy ropes and cords. And this is a horrible feeling, in its own way worse than feeling unfixably broken. It's why I've been sitting here in the dark, writing, fighting off sleepiness, as burning tears fill and refill my eyes. I have to hear myself say something, hear myself give this experience a form and a name.   

7 comments:

ernmalleyscat said...

Being aware of it at the time sounds healthy and hopefully you can get close enough to loosen a few ropes.

Anonymous said...

As a long term reader of your blog, I’d like to say thank you for all you write. For a few years I have had to stand by as someone I love slowly makes a train wreck of their life. Your account of your struggles and pains and gains has given me much solace( even though I do feel that I’ve been peering through your uncurtained window)

lucy tartan said...

Thank you both.

Unknown said...

Solidarity mate, it's a bad place to be.

Anonymous said...

I care more than you could imagine.

jc said...

Anonymous #1, that puts how I feel excellently. And the image of ropes sounds miserable but also clearsighted and hopeful: here is to future patient unknottings.

kate said...

I'm sorry things are so rough.

Sometimes, when things are crap, I get We're Going on a Bear Hunt stuck in my head, stupid sing song reading aloud voice and all. We can't go under it, we can't go over it, we'll have to go through it. I'm sorry you're wading through it, I'm cheering you on.