A Willow Deeply Scarred, Somebody's Broken Heart, And A Washed-Out Dream, They Follow The Pattern Of The Wind, Ya' See
--"Man In The Mirror", Michael Jackson
I came home today from my cruise to the news that two good friends of mine were in the midst of some fairly serious bouts of heartache. I may not have many talents, but I think I've always fared pretty well when it came to being able to listen to and console people I know who have lost love recently. Of course, I took it upon myself to offer the best advice I could and to let them know that my door, my phone, my e-mail was always open to them, but I found myself ineffective in "curing" whatever ails them. After all, how does one explain loss such as this? How can one explain to someone else, someone who had the stars once, why those stars burn out.
You can't.
I've burned some bridges in my time. I've also been the victim of cruel fate more than once. The one feeling that's remained constant through it all is the feeling that there is no pain greater than the one one is going through at that precise moment. It burns like a branding iron straight through your skin and one walks around the whole day with the sensation that it will never cease hurting, never cease scarring you to the bone. It's the kind of pain that I wouldn't wish on a dog I didn't like. The pain is so all-consuming that I don't even know any other kind of pain that quite compares to it.
I read somewhere that going through a break-up or a divorce is as stressful and as physiologically damaging as losing someone to death. It's that bad. Most people go around telling people in this situation that the pain will subsist in time, that it won't hurt as bad tomorrow as it does today. Most people attempt to look at the situation from having survived it and seek to give comfort to the people still in the eye of the storm by showing them that "if I can survive it, so can you." It's all well and good to provide that brand of assistance, but I don't think it's as comforting as giving them the straight truth.
What I've always believed and the advice I think people come to me for is the advice of someone who still remembers what it's like to lose someone great. That advice is that you never really forget the hurt, you never really forget the tears. It's stupid to think that a person can wake up one day devoid of sorrow for a relationship that obviously was important to them. Utterly stupid. There's a reason that person invested so much time and energy into spending time working at the relationship. There's a reason why that person cared so much. Nobody tries to have a bad relationship. Nobody wants that. The reason people stay in any relationship, bad or good, is that at one point they saw the fire that kept them warm and they would do anything to keep that fire going as long as possible. When one is without that kind of love, especially immediately after, one will do almost anything to get it back. And when one finds out that is nigh impossible, one experiences anguish on a scale heretofore unimaginable.
That is something that is not forgotten.
The best advice I've ever given someone is that, yeah, you'll remember the tears and, yeah, you'll remember the sorry, but you'll always remember the laughter more. It's just like the scene between Sara and Aunt Olivia:
There really is no cure to sadness over a lost love. There is no magic elixir I can offer these two friends and make it all better for them. I can only do what I do, offer up myself as a willing ear to hear them out, a willing shoulder to cry on, and a willing voice to let them know that it only gets worse before it gets better. I hate seeing good friends crying to themselves over a problem that truly has no solution, but it's my belief that a good cry only makes a person more beautiful, more special. It takes a special heart to let someone in enough to cry over them when they are no longer there.
Some of us forget how rare that is and how lucky we are to even have that once. People forget that it's the tears that let other people know how love really is supposed to be.
who am I, to be blind? pretending not to see their needs
It's the tears that let other people know how truly prepared we are to have love once again.
Feel better, both of you.
Yours Swimmingly,
mojo shivers
I came home today from my cruise to the news that two good friends of mine were in the midst of some fairly serious bouts of heartache. I may not have many talents, but I think I've always fared pretty well when it came to being able to listen to and console people I know who have lost love recently. Of course, I took it upon myself to offer the best advice I could and to let them know that my door, my phone, my e-mail was always open to them, but I found myself ineffective in "curing" whatever ails them. After all, how does one explain loss such as this? How can one explain to someone else, someone who had the stars once, why those stars burn out.You can't.
I've burned some bridges in my time. I've also been the victim of cruel fate more than once. The one feeling that's remained constant through it all is the feeling that there is no pain greater than the one one is going through at that precise moment. It burns like a branding iron straight through your skin and one walks around the whole day with the sensation that it will never cease hurting, never cease scarring you to the bone. It's the kind of pain that I wouldn't wish on a dog I didn't like. The pain is so all-consuming that I don't even know any other kind of pain that quite compares to it.
I read somewhere that going through a break-up or a divorce is as stressful and as physiologically damaging as losing someone to death. It's that bad. Most people go around telling people in this situation that the pain will subsist in time, that it won't hurt as bad tomorrow as it does today. Most people attempt to look at the situation from having survived it and seek to give comfort to the people still in the eye of the storm by showing them that "if I can survive it, so can you." It's all well and good to provide that brand of assistance, but I don't think it's as comforting as giving them the straight truth.
What I've always believed and the advice I think people come to me for is the advice of someone who still remembers what it's like to lose someone great. That advice is that you never really forget the hurt, you never really forget the tears. It's stupid to think that a person can wake up one day devoid of sorrow for a relationship that obviously was important to them. Utterly stupid. There's a reason that person invested so much time and energy into spending time working at the relationship. There's a reason why that person cared so much. Nobody tries to have a bad relationship. Nobody wants that. The reason people stay in any relationship, bad or good, is that at one point they saw the fire that kept them warm and they would do anything to keep that fire going as long as possible. When one is without that kind of love, especially immediately after, one will do almost anything to get it back. And when one finds out that is nigh impossible, one experiences anguish on a scale heretofore unimaginable.
That is something that is not forgotten.
The best advice I've ever given someone is that, yeah, you'll remember the tears and, yeah, you'll remember the sorry, but you'll always remember the laughter more. It's just like the scene between Sara and Aunt Olivia:
Sara - I'd almost rather not be in love if it means being in tears all the time.
Aunt Olivia - Yeah, but you know what? You'll always remember the love more than the tears.
Sara - Really?
There really is no cure to sadness over a lost love. There is no magic elixir I can offer these two friends and make it all better for them. I can only do what I do, offer up myself as a willing ear to hear them out, a willing shoulder to cry on, and a willing voice to let them know that it only gets worse before it gets better. I hate seeing good friends crying to themselves over a problem that truly has no solution, but it's my belief that a good cry only makes a person more beautiful, more special. It takes a special heart to let someone in enough to cry over them when they are no longer there.
Some of us forget how rare that is and how lucky we are to even have that once. People forget that it's the tears that let other people know how love really is supposed to be.
who am I, to be blind? pretending not to see their needs
It's the tears that let other people know how truly prepared we are to have love once again.
Feel better, both of you.
Yours Swimmingly,
mojo shivers
posted by mojo shivers @ 12:52 AM
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