I know, and I knew then that all it would take to die, is simply to let go. Belief, the velocity of release, the capability of dying of my own free will is very real to me. I have stood on that ledge where that choice is offered. That choice is mine still.
I cannot say that it is my will exactly that stops me from exercising that choice. I would like to think I stay because I am a loyal friend and would not leave you, or a loving mother... but I am sure soemthing else is at work as well as these things. If it were simply left up to me, I could so easily relax into Death. Death seems so easy. Living is HELL.
To be frenetic and fragile all at once is a delicate state. I make circles and pace them out. If I did not do this I would turn to stone, I would NON exist. Matter is always in motion ( perhaps there is no true state of inertia in a physical universe??) People see me sometimes as deranged - perhaps what appears as derangement is simply the rearranging of thwe All_Too_Stillness of my life and my personality, forced by life? Those who think they like me/loveme/respect me watch me REform an entirely different human being outside the womb, and sicne I am no longer concered with what other's think, I watch their looks of horror as though I am committing some unspeakable antisocial act int he middle of peak hour downtown Sydney. My sort of derangement has no cognisance or respect for the opionion of anyone else.
The phone rings. I can't answer it. I can't say I am fine. The basics are overwhelming. Eat. Can't eat. Eating means I have to walk itno a shop and think about what to buy or what to cook - or both. ...or go to a cafe or restaurant and I can't bear to sit and eat alone. I cannot seem to shake the blame of Ina's rejectiona nd betrayal. I am ashamed I allowed him to do that to me. Ashamed I believed the best of him. Intellectually my mind knows there is nothing to be ashamed of, yet shame swallows me up....I trust so few because I can taste their pity of me. Self pity is okay and acceptable. Noone else can pity me because it is demeaning.
The so called stages of grief are a hoax. There aren't stages. Only wave after wave of intense feeling...two and three at a time.
