And That’s How It Is

I’ve been so stuck in the past – as though it’s vital I get back there, as though that’s the only part of my life that mattered, as though now is a wasteland unworthy of notice when it is actually rich, and actually all there is. The past is gone – just like Steven Tyler sang in Dream On

all those years ago when, ironically, he was just becoming an adult.

I think the pain makes me feel alive, the longing gives me a sense of purpose, like: ‘Don’t forget how things were!’ – but it’s a lot of revisionist history because so much of my early life sucked-ass.

I was battling panic disorder, undiagnosed major depression, and PTSD – before PTSD was a word, and then only by soldiers who had witnessed untold horrors qualified.

Well, sorry, but trauma is trauma & fucks you up for life. Trauma literally changes your brain. My brain is different from non-traumatized brains, so stop telling me to have a better attitude! It doesn’t work like that! (“That’s not how this works! That’s not how any of this works!“)

It’s also accepting, or trying to accept, that my beautiful boy, the light of my life, has grown up and not only doesn’t need or want my counsel, or my – anything – but he’s a man, and wants to be seen as he sees himself. I cannot divorce my connection to him as my boy, so therein lies the rub. So, that’s present pain.

I’m older. That’s present pain. There’s nothing I can do about it. That’s present pain. I’m lonely for connection more than just my significant other. That’s present pain. I can’t seem to hold a job. That’s present pain. My family is dying off. That’s past and present pain. I miss old connections. That’s past and present pain.

We’re living in bizarro world with dangerous politics and a megalomaniac president. That’s present pain, panic, anxiety, and PTSD!

Those are my fears writ large. The President is basically Michael Rapunzel, the head of the commune/cult, and the President’s sycophants, like Rapunzel’s, can’t see his horror, or they revel in their chance at power and gain riding on his coat tails.

I’ve been down this road and now I’m living through it again. It’s harder because I know the outcome. It’s all about oppression and control, not co-operation or decentralization of power. The President, like Rapunzel, is mentally ill, and no one is stopping him.

I can look at the present pain in my life and do what I can to minimize it. I know it’s also a flux issue. My feelings, needs, and desires change – sometimes on a daily basis  – but there are times I’m truly joyful instead of longing for it.

There are days I’m connected to life and loneliness vanishes.

There are times my son calls or texts and I feel better for our connection rather than inadequate or stupid.

I’ve even been kind and accepting of my aging at times instead of railing against it – but anything I’ve ever let go of has claw-marks all over it.

And string hanging off those claws.

And glue holding the string on.

And then duct tape when the glue starts to peel…




© seekingsearchingmeaning (aka Hermionejh) and Abstractly Distracted’s Blog, 2010 – current


Author: Hermionejh

Laughter is my drug.

5 thoughts on “And That’s How It Is”

  1. Sometimes holding on is just too easy even when its the very thing that is killing us. And letting go hurts like hell but its’the only way to survive when you are drowning and the baggage you are holding on to, just makes you drown faster.

    When I finally understood and began to accept that I have lost all regular connection to my son, I railed against fate, reality, whatever you want to call it. For 2 years I went home at the end of the week, locked myself up in my house, banged my head on the wall and cried my eyes out until I could neither breathe nor summon the energy to do anything other than lay on the ground, lifeless and feeling utterly useless. I lost family, I lost friends and at that point in time, dying would have been easier than living.

    But everything passes and that did too. Like the nightmares of distant past, I learned once again, to let the past go, let it become out of focus, and I had to relearn to breathe, to accept, to just be where I am, looking forward, not backward.

    Through all of these, childhood sexual abuse, early marriage, forced abortions, forced pregnancy, suicide attempts, a divorce that turned my life upside down, losing my boy, losing all connection to blood relatives, boyfriends that came & went with promises of love that didn’t sustain… life went on… things changed. And that’s the only thing that I can count on anymore. Change. Nothing lasts forever, thank God for that. Not my health, not my beauty, not my family, not the pain, the anguish, the loss of will to even breathe for another day. Everything changes and sometimes for the better, sometimes for the worse.

    Keep breathing through it all…. you will still have us on the other side when you get out of your seemingly endless tunnel. There’s more of us then you know. There will be more of us as long as this world remains the way it is. But we’ll get through this… one person at a time, one breath at a time.

    1. Arman, you incredibly beautiful and insightful soul! I am so, so grateful to be connected with you & honor your story, your journey, YOU!
      I often think of you, and the little I know of what you’ve endured – what so many – too many – of us endure.
      I know it’s just life. It’s not personal from the big picture perspective, I guess, but it’s no good way to run a universe.
      Yeah, the fire tests the gold, and you have that in abundance – while I know it’s ongoing, not a finished piece until we’re dead – and then, I hope, we’re free. We can look back, maybe? – depending on how it all works – and not only be relieved it’s over, but see how the whole puzzle fit.
      I still think it’s no way to run a universe. I still have deep sorrow for all our suffering and nearly unendurable challenges.
      I also understand that deep compassion and kindness are possible because of the opposite. Yin & Yang. Here we are, and I don’t know what or if I’m supposed to be doing something specific, or just trying to heal, but I’m so grateful you’re in the world while I am, and if I’m ever any comfort to you, then I’m doubly grateful. xoxo Jerri

      1. Oh Jerri… you are a huge comfort to me and to many others. I think the fact that we went through, that we deal with what we have been through, just makes us that much more stronger but also empathetic towards the suffering that others endure. I wouldn’t change that for anything. I know we are better human beings for it. Yes, the sensitivity can be painful but I wouldn’t trade it for ignorance or blatant disregard. I would rather be me, as I am, in all the pain and all the glory. I think that’s acceptance and a certain amount of wisdom gained. lol.

        May the sunnier days last longer.

        Big hugs, xoxo.

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