words will not dance with me today

Life this week has felt dull, empty of its usual vibrancy, as one day – shaded into muted grey by my perspective – stutters into another. “It’s not what you look at that matters, it’s what you see” says the cover of the journal in front of me: yes indeed.

I have been ill, and flooded with nightmares, and have slept little. I wake from yet another nightmare, sweating and nauseous, and turn to try and find more rest, only to see images from the previous dream flitting relentlessly across my consciousness, stubbornly resisting my mind’s attempts to push them aside. Strange glimpses make me shudder to think of even now, and I find myself withdrawing from the memories in horror – images of my children’s bodies as they lie dead or dying; of quitting my job in a moment of hurt and fury, and then realising I won’t be able to pay bills, don’t want to leave the workplace I so love, and can’t undo the damage I have done; of loved ones lost and painfully out of reach.

Words, which usually flow so freely, are hard to find. I stretch out for them across blankness that I can’t make sense of, an unstable clumsiness that refuses to find its usual grace.


6 thoughts on “words will not dance with me today

  1. Laur, as you said the other day, sometimes the support is all around in the first few days of crisis, then fades away as everyone thinks either that they have given their support or that you have enough from elsewhere, or that you will have moved on by now. You sound like you’re past the initial frenzy and into a depression mode, which is so hard to see ones way out of. Any time you need to talk, or cry, I’m far away but not too far to talk.
    Love you

  2. Aww sweets. Sorry to hear that things are so hard. My phone is currently a bit out of commission – will call soon as I have a contract again.

  3. It’s hard to ‘like’ this post, but know that we are here for you… and it feels to me like those days are inevitable, sometimes without reason, at other times completely justified..

  4. I feel sad for you Laurel. And I dont want to utter platitudes. So Im just going to say I am thinking about you, which is true, and I have been thinking about you ever since the terrifying event. I hope you can slowly come fo terms with what has happened and Im sending hugs and love for what they are worth; I feel helpless.

  5. It is strange to catch up on your posts by reading the most current first – and feel the progression of your fear and pain and uncertain healing in reverse … and all I can do it offer my love a virtual hug. XO ♥

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