Loss
I unfolded my heart today and what was written there was ‘loss’.
The pressure feels on today as this is my first Substack I’m sending out after letting everyone know I’d started writing here. You’ve all just arrived (thank you!) and I wanted to write you something uplifting and heart-warming to brighten up your Sunday morning.
And yet, when I unfold my heart, I do not choose what is revealed to me. There are light and shadows to be found there, always. Today, a shadow.
My head said ‘don’t send that, they’ll all unsubscribe’. But I’m here to honour my heart over my head - that’s the whole point of this Substack.
I’m at an age where I will not turn away from shadows any more. I bring them out and turn them curiously under the light. Hold them tenderly. Heal them. Tuck them away with permission to revisit me whenever they need to.
I trust this writing will be needed by at least one of you today.
Nic x
I do not pause for grief.
There is so much loss I would be swallowed.
The loss of my mother unexpectedly, too many years and conversations stolen from us.
The loss of ‘I love yous’ from her lips, never ever said.
The loss of my father who does not remember the man he used to be.
The loss of my grandma who lived 10 streets away and yet went unvisited be me.
Guilt here, instead of grief.
The loss of my parents’ marriage, blown apart by betrayal when I was a child, leaving me a single-parented, and removing the male presence from my life.
And then a lifetime of ensuring not a single day has passed without one.
The loss of so many cats and dogs, chickens and fish.
The loss of four years of our lives sucked into darkness as our family lost a piano-player and a dancer, and ultimately, the children tried to lose themselves, over and over.
The loss of the innocence of a young one we know, stripped away against her will by two men one sunny afternoon at the pool.
And again by another man, and again by another one.
The loss of close friends, ghosted as their their mid-life traumas became too much to share with me.
The loss of my chance to find someone to love me as I want to be loved.
(I have taken care of that one myself and it has changed everything between us).
The loss of my waistline and glowy skin.
The loss of my eyesight and the frustration at the loss of independence and the ability to drive.
So much loss and yet no grief.
A moving one foot in front of the other as if it isn't happening.
Keep calm, carry on.
I want to feel the sadness.
I want to feel the streaks of tears down my face.
I want to feel a gaping empty void that cannot be filled.
And I cannot.
I fear there is something wrong with me, that I am callous and cold, inhuman.
Where is the weeping, the wailing, the gnashing of teeth, the days under the duvet.
They will all catch up with me at once and I’ll simply be unable to breathe.
I'm sitting in the garden, watching the leaves fall from the trees.
All loss. No grief.
Samhain is nearly here - the time when the veil thins between what is alive and what and who has been lost.
I’ll light a fire, write all these onto strips of paper, say my prayers, let the suffering deepen me and then let them burn.
I unfolded my heart today and what was written there was ‘loss’.
No words, Nic. Just reaching out my hand 💜
Much ❤️