I've spent the last two days at the house, cleaning and sorting and tidying up. By the time I sorted out the stuff I got out of the house on Weds, I was left with a third of a plastic wheelie box of bits and pieces, some of which were damaged but had sentimental value, so I kept them. Most of what I got out was irreparably damaged. Over 80% went in the bin. Such is life. Today, I cleaned up the back yard. I put everything away. I moved all the rubbish to the back of the house for the skips, when they ever turn up (I'm still waiting on the insurance company... sigh). Then I mowed. It looks neat now. And tomorrow and Sunday, weather permitting, I'll go in and weed the side and back beds and neaten them up too. And sort through the small garden shed. Everything that is rubbish or I'm not going to ever use again will go. I don't want to carry this load any longer. I want to unburden myself and let it all go. I have a small shed down the back - 3 metres by 2 metres. It's not half full but will be by the time I get everything I've saved into it. My life condensed into approximately 2x1 metres. And I still have to sort through all that again, because most of it was put in there when I was still attached to it, still horribly emotional about 'saving' it. So I put it there for when I could think again. I'm not there yet. I'm still reeling in shock. But the time will come when I can go into the shed and look and sort without the attachment. Without the dreadful pain of loss. Not today. Not tomorrow. Not Sunday. Probably not next week. But one day, I will be able to do that.
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Yesterday was... gruelling. Devastating. Another blow to an already shattered heart. I went early to my home, knowing that I would have a little time to grieve before I had to face what was inside the boarded up shell. I walked around my house, thinking of the 16 months I had spent here - thinking of all the amazing things I'd done, the people I'd met, the life I'd created.
This was to be my final resting place, my home. The first home I'd ever had that I could call mine. All my own. This was the place that I chose, that chose me. This was the dwelling of my heart. I felt safe in this place - for the first time in MY WHOLE LIFE, I felt safe. This was my home. Was... And now I was cast again on the tides of fortune and chance. Blown like a leafy metaphor by the breath of circumstance. I was adrift, lost. I no longer have a home. I no longer know what is going to happen to me. I'm scared and I'm so filled with grief it chokes me. But what choice do I have but to keep walking, to keep going, to put down one foot after the other in this journey we call life. Today I'm so numb I can't feel. So I won't. The feelings will return and I will handle them. Life will throw more crap at me and I will handle it. But still, in all the darkness, there is a glimmer of hope. It comes with the friendships I have made and the love they generate. It comes with the distance in time between my self now and my self that was. It comes with the purr of my Tigger monster cat. It comes with each hug, each blessing, each gift I receive. It comes. A poem by my incredible son, Rob Marsh - http://wide-eyedandhopefullywild.tumblr.com/ I have something to say to you, dear one
listen to me, it is the rustle of leaves and the bright yellow sound of sunlight tapping on white paint, it is the laughter of babes! it is the great beast with countless arms and eyes who is everywhere and nowhere, whose breath raises, mountain, and falls, valley! “it” is pouring sweet ambrosia into the heart of man! Let open the chest and let your heart pour out into the street! pull back three eyelids and stare into the sun! white light! white light! radiant light! pure! cast off the one you think you are! burn it and scatter it! forget it! remember it and toss it to the winds! tend to the flame in the centre of the chest! feed it ego, it’s thirst is never sated! it is waves! it is motion! it is alive! ram! whose love is the cycles of trees! ram! whose mind is glacial melt! ram! whose breath is pollen and insect song! ram! whose gaze is nuclear fire! sri ram! jai ram! jai jai ram! ram! whose becoming is light, light, glorious light! ram! whose dying breath is stillness! ram! sweet ram! union! let the lines grow soft! I am dance of shadows on ceiling! I am the formation of mountains! I am rushing, thunderous rumble of game set afoot! I am purifying heat of wisdom heart opening to hold all in perfect Love! I am invisible hand, stretches out, touches other! I am ancient, no time, ever now! I am dreaming self! I am he who knocks on inside of chest! I am generation, creation! I am thought, that starts a thousand tales! I am here, now, in living room, in Love! I am joyous laughter of self-recognition! I am drama, mask, cast and stage! Praise be that I am! Joy that I am! Glory that I am! Here, inside! Union! Let the lines grow soft! Let chest open and fold all forms into lover's embrace! Let knowing cease! No clinging! No need! Union! Let the lines grow soft! Here! Now! In Love! I am! You are! We are! Here! Now! In Love!" It's early Monday morning, cold and frosty and I can't stop crying. The tears are leaking out, I feel so alone and so lost and so scared. So fucking scared.
My best friend is dying. He's in so much pain and I cry for him too, for what is coming and because I can't be there with him. It adds to my pain because I know there are worse things in the world than what I am going through right now. So much worse. I sit here in this house and I don't know what will happen to me; where I will go, what I will do. I'm drifting, lost, aimless, rudderless. I feel I have no connection to anything anymore. No purpose. Nothing. I've been voided. What's the point? In anything? Except I look at my friend, at his struggle to stay here, to stay alive and I understand the point. It's simply to be here. Be Here BE HERE Be-ing However 'here' is. Wherever 'here' is. Whatever 'here' is. Just to 'be'. My friend is fighting for that. I realise I'm already there. I have a choice - the alternative to being here is NOT being here. Not being. And I, underneath all the fear and pain and hurt and grief and loss and anger... I still want to be here. So wherever I go, whichever shore I shall wash up on like some sea wracked flotsam, I will be. And if I don't like it there, I'll go 'be' somewhere else, until my day to not 'be' comes. I'm simply 'be-ing'. A simple being. Be Here xoxoxox One month since the fire gutted my home and me.
One month of pain and grief and loss and fear and anger. The anger is still with me and I am purging it gently. I'm sad today. Sad because in the first week after the fire, offers of help and assistance poured in. But I needed nothing then except emotional support. At that stage there was nothing anyone could do other than comfort me. I still need emotional support and now I'm starting to need other support as well, even though my hands are still tied by the insurance company and my future is still a blank void in which I can make no plans yet. But the offers of help and assistance have all but dried up. My GFM campaign has ground to a halt. There's only so much you can ask of the same people over and over again. And I really don't want to hassle my friends all the time. People have gone back to their lives and forgotten about me. Forgotten that a month ago I lost thirty years of mine. And I get that, I really do. I understand completely. And I'm sure that a lot of people mean well at first but then when it comes to the crunch fade back into the woodwork. And that's OK, too. You do what you can. I get that. But I'm still here in this nightmare I call living. I haven't forgotten. I haven't gone back to my old life. I haven't stepped away from anything because I can't. I'm still sorting through the ruins, still marking time, still waiting. Everything, for me, is on hold. I have lots of acquaintances who know lots of people. Most of those people can afford a cup of coffee. If 500 people donated $5 to my campaign, I'd be halfway to my goal. 500 people. That's not many when you think of the population of Australia alone - 24 MILLION. 24 million people. Just imagine - if each person donated $1 - how much would that be? Even if half of the population of Australia donated 20 cents each that would be 12 million x .20........... More than enough to buy a caravan LOL. I'm not asking for much. If you can't donate money, then I get that too. Completely and utterly get that. But there are other ways you can help me. Sharing my campaign would help. I know some of you do that frequently and I thank you with all my heart. But I need more people to help me share it. Few people contact me anymore. Few friends talk to me on Facebook. Comments on my wall are few and far between. And yes I know I've not wanted to talk to people much but that's my way of dealing with absolute trauma and grief. It doesn't take much to ask someone how they are travelling. But I guess most people really don't want to hear the answer to that. It's as though I should have 'gotten better' by now. I should be 'over it'. I should be 'strong'. Well I'm fucking not. And I don't see this as an 'opportunity' or a 'fresh start' or a 'new beginning'... I just lost EVERYTHING that made me who I am today and I am STILL GRIEVING! I still need emotional support. I need hugs. I need people to tell me they love me. I need people to remind me that I exist. Because right now I'm not sure I do. |