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Arden Raine is an ex-theatrical making sense of life through many lenses.
Showing posts with label I am sorry for your loses. Show all posts
Showing posts with label I am sorry for your loses. Show all posts

Monday, April 21, 2014

Balancing Acts

I have been busy fighting of bee hordes trying to bore into our home's pointing and bitchy wasps nesting in our patio furniture so spring must be truly here.

So how am I doing? Friends have been checking in on me and I feel loved. Very loved.

But I also feel like I am being kid-gloved too. As if I am fragile or precious.

To be fair in the past I have been brittle after emotional devastation. So my good friends wonder, rightly, which jack-in-the-box they might be having to deal with.

It was running me down a bit. I felt a tremendous need to show everyone I was right as Raine. And not because I am doing better, which today I thankfully am, but because I didn't want to see the hesitation in their responses. As if I need to prove I am not going to go all "crazy" again.

I wanted to show everyone that this isn't like 2006 and my big PTSD battle. That this is grieving not depression. That I am having a hard but manageable transition. And all of that is 100% true. But I selfishly worry that I am being watched for signs of mental breakdown. Judged as broken. When truthfully my friends and family aren't engaged in those judgements at all. They love me and want to know where I am.

Then today I was told that my processes written here were helping friends with their own pregnancy loss.

I am gob smacked! I am humbled beyond words. And my choices of words became very important to me. My need to cut away the niceties and the concerns about what someone might be thinking were gone.

I need to say to that family- I love you and I am so very sorry.

And you don't have to grieve alone. Unless you need the privacy. Respect what you are feeling and be honest about what you need. We who love you can handle it.

I tend to be a dolt sometimes. Its takes a clue by four or seven for me to get it. And I was keeping to myself lately and I was feeling like I needed to be 'better' by now. "We who love you can handle it!"- my clue by four of the day.

The one overwhelming thing I have learned this year is how many of us suffer quietly and alone. We soldier through thinking we have to shield others from our pains and losses and the rawness of our living.

Fuck that! We need less concern about seeming to be okay, when we obviously are not and more safe places to express pain and loss and confusion without gut checking to make sure we seem put together and reasonable to others. Lately I've been gut checking and it's not even needed.

I love you. All the parts that make up being you right this minute. Let's love together and laugh together and cry together and whist respecting each other's boundaries support each other. You don't ever need to hold back for me.

And P.S. I really don't hold truck with astrology (probably because there's math involved) but this Grand Cross, retrograde, hey you kids get off my damn lawn crap needs to end. So much loss and heartbreak in the first quarter of the year.

2014 was to be my year of balance. Then a much wiser man than I reminded me balance is active and moves through space. It's not a static point like holding one's breath but motion forward like a tight rope walker. Constant readjustment in the moment that allows us to move forward without falling off the dang rope.

Absolutely this is my year of balance! And today I learned that my big top routine can and is making a difference for others. That notion shook my rope more than I'd ever imagined. I am humbled and honored to share my life with you this way. I never dreamed I might be benefiting others.

When you're reaching up trying to pull your head above water that other hand you reach downward to help someone else is more important sometimes than your first breath of air. My friend Jenni taught me that and much more. I simply followed her example.

Who's hands are you holding on to today? What difference are you making? Do you know how powerful the day to day living of your life can be? You might be very surprised by the answers you find.

Monday, September 23, 2013

Fearing the Reaping

Like a ghoul I sit
Perched upon a pile of other's pain
Picking at bits of grief
Attempting to swallow
Small chunks of their loss
Trying to help them heal

All the while I stare blinded
At my own all too soon reaping
Yet I push my losses away
Unfit refuse to forage

Like a ghoul I sit
Bent necked trailing my own sorrow
Like sputum behind me
A slime trail to lead me back to my own Rotting heart
Lost in the woods
Buried in a box
Tied with yew and rue and tears

How like a monster
Does it seem
That I care a thousand times
More about a stranger and his son
My friend
As they dance goodbye in solitudes
Or to grieve more deeply
Over an unknown to me life cast off
And those left behind
Reeling in aftershock

Than the I care
About the impending death of
My own mother

How can I remain calm
Why cannot I summon
Any more than basest
Pity

To be fair she's been
Dying in slow motion
My whole life
Soul and heart
Then mind and body
Long terrible fate

How will I face the guilt
My relief will cause
When her journey ends
I see it more as a passing
No tossing off chains of
Her suffering
And freedom for her 
At last to heal
Finally whole but incorporeal

But none for me
Not reconciliation
No soft words
No room for missteps

Because you see
My archenemy
A fat evil slug is
Waiting for the moment
We face each other

My monster under the bed
My soul breaker
My reason to know the
Bitter taste of hate
And fear
And loathing so deep
Death was a kinder
Family
Than he

That is what I fear and
I am ashamed
Not the reaping of
The womb that spat me out
But the moment I must face her
First born spawn

Like a ghoul I sit
Crouched low
Not sure if I should spring
Or flee

I hold so much rage
I feel so much blood lust
I am numb with the
Anticipation of my
Actions in that moment
When my monster and
I meet again

I don't fear the reaping
I fear that the monster inside
Will want revenge
So I lock it up too
In the box In the woods
Tied with yew and rue and tears

And try to ignore the breadcrumbs

Instead like a ghoul I sit