Every loss of mine has robbed me of a critical essence of mine. That part of me has gone with the loss and never come back. I have managed to live, but not whole. Its a shot-through-with-holes kind of life. I look around and find people around me struggling through the same deprecation of self. I am not the only one struggling.
I remember that when my losses were recent, I would stare at others and wonder if they knew how I was bleeding and lacerated inside. I would wonder about how they would react if they knew. I would think - maybe there are others who are equally adept at hiding their losses and wounds, and would take solace in the grim silent companionship that provided. I am not the only person in the world who had had losses, I would tell myself, and reassure myself, the world with its thousands of people has coped with losses, and has continued to smile. I would cope too, I would tell myself - it just needs more time. Time being a great healer and all that.
But time really isn't a healer. It hasn't healed, and I doubt it has healed others. We have just become better with time in faking our wholeness- made easier by the fact that our bodies show no scars of our losses. Our body appears whole, shiny and well fed.
Eyes give the game away at times. Eyes that lingers at new born babies, father and daughter walking together, young lovers, friends smiling at each other coffee, and then look away, unable to deal with the images of the previous self that it conjures up. Yes, I have caught memories of losses in eyes, mine and of others.
There are days that I am unable to live with the diminished self I have become. And it is those days that I yell, I criticize, I lash out, I rant and then after having gone through every coping mechanism, just hide myself in a room and ululate.
I remember that when my losses were recent, I would stare at others and wonder if they knew how I was bleeding and lacerated inside. I would wonder about how they would react if they knew. I would think - maybe there are others who are equally adept at hiding their losses and wounds, and would take solace in the grim silent companionship that provided. I am not the only person in the world who had had losses, I would tell myself, and reassure myself, the world with its thousands of people has coped with losses, and has continued to smile. I would cope too, I would tell myself - it just needs more time. Time being a great healer and all that.
But time really isn't a healer. It hasn't healed, and I doubt it has healed others. We have just become better with time in faking our wholeness- made easier by the fact that our bodies show no scars of our losses. Our body appears whole, shiny and well fed.
Eyes give the game away at times. Eyes that lingers at new born babies, father and daughter walking together, young lovers, friends smiling at each other coffee, and then look away, unable to deal with the images of the previous self that it conjures up. Yes, I have caught memories of losses in eyes, mine and of others.
There are days that I am unable to live with the diminished self I have become. And it is those days that I yell, I criticize, I lash out, I rant and then after having gone through every coping mechanism, just hide myself in a room and ululate.
