Drop in the Ocean

I heard once that grief was like the ocean.  It's deep, dark and bigger than us all.  When I think of grief, the first thing that comes to mind is death.  The loss of someone from this world forever, taken from their loved ones, never to be seen again.  This loss is terrible, the emptiness vast as the hollow ache in your heart takes root.  But for a lot of people, death is easier to get over than other types of grief.  There is nothing you can do to change it.  You have no choice. You either move on or perish with them.

But there are so many types of grief.  The loss of someone you love is hard.  It's even harder when they leave by choice.  How many holes can riddle a heart before it is broken beyond repair?  How many pieces can be given away before there's nothing left to give?  For some, a loss like that is something they leave in their past.  They accept it and move on.  I'm not that strong.  When I give someone a piece of my heart, be it family, lover or friend, it is a gift.  It's not something I take back, so when they're gone so is that part of me, leaving me with an emptiness in its place. 

Everyone becomes someone else around different people. There is one person, or a group of people, who inspire you to bring out a different side.  A facet, if you will.   Sometimes you're studious, carefully taking notes; flirtatious, just because it's fun. Other times you may be serious because you have responsibilities or goofy and childlike because you just don't care what the world thinks. What amazes and at times astounds and confuses me is that I can't always seem to find that person without the one who inspires it. Lately I've found that I miss being happy and carefree. Even when I had things to worry about, people counting on me, I found that I could look at the world as warm, caring and full of wonder. I had a childlike curiosity that bubbled to the surface in a giggle -- though not as annoying as that sounds. But now, I can't seem to find it. So I find myself missing that one person who always made it possible.  One of my biggest faults is that when that person goes, something in me dies. That facet hides itself away and only an echo remains, just waiting to be awoken.  The one who brought out the side of me that embraced and enjoyed life down to the last drop is gone.   Once, the girl who could look at the stars with wonder, find the one that I was looking for and forget that I could see no other in the vast sky beyond, refused to be silenced.  Now I can't find her voice.

That's the personal loss that comes when someone leaves.  At least for me.  But what about the rest?   There were nights after I lost the boy I dated in college, after I left him because I knew we were toxic for each other, that I would crawl up onto my roof and cry for hours.  Horrible, heart-wrenching sobs that would rock my entire body until I had to curl up around myself just to keep the pieces from shattering into the night and blowing away on the slightest breeze.  I was afraid I would never stop crying, that the pain would never dissapate. 

People always say that the pain and garbage, the aching that comes with loss and heart ache is part of the healing process.  Part of letting go.  People are wrong.  It's just pain and garbage.  The healing happens when you decide to get up and start living your life again.

It's hard.  Believe me.  But it is possible.  Life is worth living.  Even on your darkest days you have to remember that there is a reason to get up.  Grief may be an ocean, dark and deep and bigger than us all.  You just have to learn to swim. 

I wrote this poem when I was nineteen, about that same boy.  After days of drowning, I finally surfaced.  And one day I put pen to paper and I started to write.  Something I hadn't been able to do in weeks.  After three days of writing and editing, the words that appeared to me on that page promised that I would be okay. 

Smile at the Shoreline...

 

I’m a stranger to Sleep,

an aquaintance to Nightmare.

My sanctuary’s left me

for a land dark and bare.

Struggling for light,

sweet relief’s yet to come.

I still know the pain

but I only feel numb.

It’s a silent emptiness

that’s consuming my soul.

My life continues as before

but I have yet to feel whole.

I’m a shadow on the outside

looking into my world.

I’m not quite connected

to the tears of the girl.

You’ve stolen my heart,

you’ve stolen my life force.

Now I’m left to stumble

down this uneven course.

You pushed and you prodded

using guilt as your pole.

You kept breaking my strength,

leaving in your wake, gaping holes.

You need to feel guilty.

You deserve the heavy load.

Now you can feel what I’ve felt

Struggling down rocky roads.

Carry that burden

while fighting alone in the dark.

Then you’ll know how I felt

while you were breaking my heart.

Feel the bite of the ache,

the sting of the hurt.

Feel the pain press upon you

as the hellfire burns.

My mind’s chained to you,

held fast, not unlocked.

Your heart holds the key,

but that path I’ve blocked.

It’s a terrifying prison,

for I long to be free.

I only fear if you come close

you’ll end up chained to me.

So I carry these irons

through the dark waters near shore,

the shackles that bind me

to the pain, on the floor.

Do you feel how I feel?

Have you caught a glimpse of it yet?

Have you felt the yearning,

seen the light you can’t get?

Have you crashed through the ocean

unable to breathe?

I don’t reach for you.

I’m reaching for me.

You are the black waters,

the guilt and pain crashing down.

As the sharp sorrow surrounds me,

you take my breath, I start to drown.

But though I’m thrashed by the waves,

I’ll reach the surface yet.

Though I may be pummled by waters,

my strength Dark won’t get.

I’ll live again, breathe in the pain.

I’ll smile, stronger than before.

And while your memory may haunt me,

I’m standing solid on the shore.

 

This is probably the best poem I’ve ever written. It’s one of love, sorrow and heartbreak, but most of all, it’s one of strength. And while I may not be feeling that particular way anymore, it’s always a good reminder that things have been worse, and I’ve gotten through it. The old saying is true.
"What doesn’t kill you can only make you stronger." This is my reminder that I’m strong enough to make it. And stubborn enough too. :)