Sad Songs
A day of sad songs and feeling lonely.
Missing my daughter. Missing friends. Missing times gone by. Missing being part of a whole.
My heart feels heavy today. Moments of tears that leave me in shuddering cries of sorrow.
Could things have been done differently? Could I have changed things? Could I have been stronger?
I look back on the decades lost. One to illness. Another to a narcissist who broke me down into a shadow of myself.
I eventually came back stronger—the cracks filled with gold. Kintsugi from good friends, family and good times, but it took a long time to climb back out of that deep grasping Nothing.
Yet on days like today, I feel the fragility, a thinness. I feel drawn and stretched as if I am tangled in the reins of Artax as the Swamp of Sadness pulls him down.
When no one is around the veneer of confidence I have built around me slips away like Peter Pan’s shadow. The armour of jokes, fast talk and silly stories have no purchase on the empty space. The thoughts that always speed through my head at a mile a minute leading to strange conversational tangents can form a devastating feedback loop of self-doubt and sorrow at times like these.
Thankfully, the music changes as I write. As it always does. Writing, drawing, creating. All things that show the way back to the light.
Take a breath. Hold it. Feel the center. Feel the world around me.
Know that I am not alone. Know that you reading this are not alone. Not even in those quiet moments.
“I am he as you are he as you are me and we are all together” - I Am The Walrus
There are people out there thinking of you, me and everyone. People who would miss us if we were not here as we miss those who are no longer with us.
I smile as James Taylor comes on and sings “You’ve Got A Friend.”
“When you're down and troubled
And you need some lovin' care
And nothin', nothin' is goin' right
Close your eyes and think of me
And soon I will be there
To brighten up even your darkest night”
So true.
A moment of serendipity that lights the way forward.
I think of her. Hoping to see her soon. Hope is sometimes all we have and it can be just enough to keep us going.
As always, thank you for reading. Take care and I will see you on the flip side.
Goo goo g'joob!
I hear you Phil! Your words resonate deeply and often at times I feel so desperately alone with grief and life . Not as often thankfully as it used to be , but still when it hits , it hits hard , immobilising me . It always does pass though , even when I think it won’t , it does ! Life shifts and moves again .. 💜
I absolutely love your references to James Taylor and I am The Walrus and just to say I always feel very me when I’m around you , you are a lovely person .. go gently with yourself my friend xx
An honest and strong post with hopefully an element of catharsis. The melancholy of a nonadjustable past is the natural canvas of us in the middle of life, and it's ok to feel. I always think we process emotion like a river - let the emotion be observed but let it pass on too. We so often dam moments because we believe we need punishment, however severe or light. We could only have made the decisions we did at the time with no aid of hindsight.
Your point about short circuiting the catherine wheel of introspection is an important one I think. Being an Olympic-standard emotional ruminant myself, one that thieved days from myself through my 20s and 30s, I read a book that changed everything, one that spoke about stepping away from that malfunctioning toolbox that was trying to fix itself and constantly failing - the mind, and instead creating a playbook of mindful practices that evaporated unhelpful dolour when the time came for my mood to change. It's here if you fancy a read, and contains some useful devices that have helped me for a long time. https://shorturl.at/fijKM
It's been a pleasure to connect with you on various platforms. Please never lose sight of the good you do and the gentle power of a creative soul. I know it comes at a cost as we watch other stainless steel characters seem to repel raindrops, but I bet they don't really, the weather there is just less apparent. Thank you again for writing this, and of teaching me the word 'kintsugi'. I shall use that in a story.