It’s Not Just

It’s not just that you’re gone
So completely withdrawn
Turned off and moved on

It’s not just that it’s done
That its course has been run
And my presence you shun

It’s not just that this hole
Almost swallows me whole
Pain consuming my soul

It’s not just that I’ve died
And want only to hide
In the tears I have cried

All these things and much more
Rendered lost and unsure
I battle to endure

Suck it Up and Keep Moving

Since you’ve been gone, there have been some hard lessons to learn.

And one thing I have realised, is that the old adage about time healing wounds is a complete crock of crap. The more time that passes, the more that it hurts. Maybe it’s just me? I’ve always been out of step with the rest of society. So perhaps I’m the exception who proves the rule? Perhaps I live in some kind of parallel universe where the mirror image is true? Whatever. All I know is that each day gets harder, not easier.

There are so many things I want to tell you. So many things left to say. So many adventures left to share. Except no. Not any more. I’ve been cut adrift and the waters are growing increasingly choppy. It’s hard, lonely and scary out here.

Ironically, if I could talk to you, I know you would understand exactly what I am saying. Because you get me. Like no one else ever did. And no one else ever will.

Are you hurting too? It’s not that I want you to hurt – far from it. But I can’t bear that it’s only me who is in such great pain. Are you unhappy too? It’s not that I want you to be miserable – not at all. But it tortures me that this misery is all one sided. And I will never know those answers, will I. Which is part of what keeps me paralysed in this despair.

To be honest, I’m struggling to suck it up. And I haven’t got to the keep moving forward part. I don’t actually know how to do it. But I know I have to try.

I guess, as Merle Haggard sang:
‘I’ve got to keep goin’
Traveling down this lonesome road
And I’ll be rollin’ with the flow
Goin’ where the lonely go.’

Stay gold.

The Science of Tears

Since you’ve been gone, I’ve been doing a lot of crying.

And then I got to thinking about tears.

Apparently, there are three categories of tears. According to Wikipedia, these are:

1 – Basal tears. In healthy mammalian eyes, the cornea is continually kept wet and nourished by basal tears. They lubricate the eye, and help to keep it clear of dust.

2 – Reflex tears. The second type of tears results from irritation of the eye by foreign particles, or from the presence of irritant substances. It can also occur with bright light and hot or peppery stimuli to the tongue and mouth. It is also linked with vomiting, coughing and yawning. These reflex tears attempt to wash out irritants that may have come into contact with the eye.

3 – Psychic tears. The third category, in general, referred to as crying or weeping, is increased tearing due to strong emotional stress, pleasure, anger, suffering, mourning, or physical pain. Interestingly, these tears are also very closely linked to the limbic system, because this system is involved in the production of basic emotional drives, such as anger and fear. Or to put it plainly – survival. I’m no neuroscientist, but I think one reason we cry psychic tears when we are in emotional pain is that we feel like we are dying inside, and therefore, our limbic system kicks in and starts shouting that our survival is in doubt. It’s fascinating, isn’t it. Way beyond my ken, I’m afraid. But a very small corner of my understanding really does get basic principle of how the limbic system works. And mine has certainly had good reason to be in overdrive.

Tears are good for you. The first two categories of tears serve to help to maintain healthy eyes. Some people have trouble producing tears and end up having to buy them over the counter in small expensive bottles. I don’t seem to have that problem. In fact, I can produce so many, I could probably bottle them myself, stick a fancy label on them, and make a fortune. But maybe that project is for another day.

As for the third category, I wonder whether these tears are also designed to help to cleanse us from the pain we are experiencing, whether that be emotional or physical. Apparently, emotional tears contain hormones that act as a natural painkiller, which goes some way to explaining why people can feel better after a good cry.

I wish I could feel better. I’m not sure I’m getting enough of those feel better hormones. Oh yes, I think I have all sorts of other hormones in super abundance. Hormones I could really do with settling down and leaving me alone. But the ones that might help? I think they might be having some sort of holiday, because nothing’s helping. Nothing. There is only wretchedness. And while I can look to the future and see all sorts of things to keep me busy, make me smile and even offer short term happiness – everything is blanketed in a thick layer of grief. And tears.

Stay gold.

Broken

Since you’ve been gone, there have been a lot of empty hours.

It’s funny how a person can be busy – have lots to think about and be occupied by – but still have time to spend every minute of every day feeling lonely and lost. It’s like a massive contradiction, an oxymoron of epic proportions. And if you ask me, it’s kinda unfair. There should be some kind of respite, right? There should be something to do, or somewhere to go, that will mean the pain will stop for a while. But there’s just nowhere to hide.

I miss you with everything that makes me the person I am. The good person and the bad person. I miss you with every beat of my heart and every breath that I take. I miss you in my private moments, and in the midst of my public life. One day, perhaps in a hundred years or so, I’ll stop missing you. But in the meantime…

My feelings are broken
And it hurts
Just like I always knew it would
The shards are in splinters in a place just out of reach
So that I can’t pick them up
And nurse them back to health
They just lay there
Taunting me with their jagged edges
And jaded misery

My feelings are broken
And it hurts
Just like I always knew it would
And each breath that I take is like glass mixed with pins in my throat
So that living is painful
And each step a mountain
Hard to master
Making the oxygen harder to come by
A waking misery

My feelings are broken
And it hurts
Just like I always knew it would
There’s a huge leaden weight inside my chest that pulls me down
Laying burden upon burden
Keeping me pinned under
Stifling all hope
Reminding me that the fault is all mine
A constant misery