Being Under vs. Living on the Surface
Dark and Light:
Each time I survive a bout of the deepest most debilitating grief, I look back on it as having gone under, like underwater, to the bottom of the ocean... to the Mariana Trench where everything is crazy and dark and different. Our usual senses don't work 'down there'. When I am 'under', all I can feel is the sense of being cut off, the lack of oxygen, the absence of sound and light, the cold vastness around me. I feel like the noises I make and the words I write are just little bubbles going up to the glossy line between under and above. People seem to send messages back to me and I start to respond... but if I don't send messages up, and tell you where I am, I sink deeper and deeper.
Somehow with one thing and another, all the little things of life, plus YOU, plus my dogs and house, family and friends and work, I find my way back to the surface where I can see and breathe and make small talk and take pleasure even, in the little things floating by on the water's surface. When I'm under, those things are unthinkably surficial and unimportant. Can't relate. Don't care. When I'm back above, I see all these little things: sandwiches, trees, barns, and everything seems precious and amazing. Things of This Life. My Life.
How can it be so different -- from one day to the next!? It's hard to explain but oh good, I don't have to. You know.
Interesting: I wrote a couple of those lines with "We" and "You" as the subjects and then edited and changed them to "I" because of the Sacred Art of Listening Book I'm reading. She says to speak only for yourself... and in doing so you hold and appreciate the emotional weight of the words. It really does make a difference!
There are so many enlightening moments that come with sorrow. En-light-ening.... of course! Naturally it feels best AFTER the worst of the sorrow has lifted. Next time it would really nice, haha, if I could say to myself as I go down down down: "You will return to the light. You will have a deeper understanding of grief. You will have more to offer the world another day. Just let yourself feel the dark depths and know that love surrounds you, wherever you are. If you feel closer to Andy in a dark place now and then, it's ok. Let it be. He knew the darkness too." Note to self!
Each time I survive a bout of the deepest most debilitating grief, I look back on it as having gone under, like underwater, to the bottom of the ocean... to the Mariana Trench where everything is crazy and dark and different. Our usual senses don't work 'down there'. When I am 'under', all I can feel is the sense of being cut off, the lack of oxygen, the absence of sound and light, the cold vastness around me. I feel like the noises I make and the words I write are just little bubbles going up to the glossy line between under and above. People seem to send messages back to me and I start to respond... but if I don't send messages up, and tell you where I am, I sink deeper and deeper.
Somehow with one thing and another, all the little things of life, plus YOU, plus my dogs and house, family and friends and work, I find my way back to the surface where I can see and breathe and make small talk and take pleasure even, in the little things floating by on the water's surface. When I'm under, those things are unthinkably surficial and unimportant. Can't relate. Don't care. When I'm back above, I see all these little things: sandwiches, trees, barns, and everything seems precious and amazing. Things of This Life. My Life.
How can it be so different -- from one day to the next!? It's hard to explain but oh good, I don't have to. You know.
Interesting: I wrote a couple of those lines with "We" and "You" as the subjects and then edited and changed them to "I" because of the Sacred Art of Listening Book I'm reading. She says to speak only for yourself... and in doing so you hold and appreciate the emotional weight of the words. It really does make a difference!
There are so many enlightening moments that come with sorrow. En-light-ening.... of course! Naturally it feels best AFTER the worst of the sorrow has lifted. Next time it would really nice, haha, if I could say to myself as I go down down down: "You will return to the light. You will have a deeper understanding of grief. You will have more to offer the world another day. Just let yourself feel the dark depths and know that love surrounds you, wherever you are. If you feel closer to Andy in a dark place now and then, it's ok. Let it be. He knew the darkness too." Note to self!
Replies
Dearest Sarah, the beautiful thing about you (through your words) is that you face the worst bravely and openly, and you keep on going. Your words touch me, as always. The last few sentences strike me especially. I too had a son who saw darkness as well as light. Who often went under and had to face his own demons. And he was extraordinarily courageous. The darkness I feel now is another way to be close to him. Thank you for reminding me of that too. I love who you are. How lucky Andy was to have had such a mother.
Beautiful, Sarah, and so true. I learned early on after Michael died that whenever I sank to the lowest pits of darkness, that I would come back up to the light. Over time, I spent less time in the dark and more in the light. These days, it is more light and the time in the dark is less intense. Thus is our journey. Thank you.