Feeling fragmented

10 07 2012

I haven’t written much lately. I’ve been feeling fragmented for a couple of weeks. I’m not overly emotional, not shattered, not broken – just not.quite.together. My energies are not consolidated, my body mind and spirit are at odds, I’m not cohesive or tuned. I can feel it. It comes when I take on too many things and my mind, heart, soul and body get out of synch. I need a break – time to unwind, slow down, de-clutter my mind and relax my body.

Feeling fragmented

A couple of weeks ago, I changed my name. It was a big decision and it was (and is) great, but it brought with it some grief I hadn’t anticipated. I’ve said goodbye to part of myself, part of my history and part of my old identity. My old name had a certain power to it and has not died easily.

Amongst the name change there was also the grief at not sharing that good news with Beth – it has been nearly seven months since she suddenly passed away and each month a deeper layer and level of grief washes through me. Unannounced. I like to think I’m an intelligent adult but when grief barges in uninvited, it brings great wracking sobs and I lose all sense of adulthood and feel lost and small and naked.

I know that death is final. I understand that she’s not coming back. I know there are no deals I can do or promises I can make that will change things. I know I’ll adjust and in time, her loss won’t seem as painful even though she’ll always be missed. It seems that only now am I beginning to start to realise it, only now, after seven months is that ‘knowledge’ starting to sink in. My heart betrays my logical mind though and continues to long to see her again, no matter how much I ‘know’. I know this feeling is temporary and I know there’s still a long way to go.

I think I need to sit in the ocean air for a while, gather my pieces together and breathe them back to life. To watch and listen to the rhythm of the waves, remember the pull of the deep, and how the shore line always adapts by continually changing, growing, reshaping, replenishing. It was there before me and will be there after me. There’s a comfort in sitting with an old soul and I’m overdue a visit.




12 responses

11 07 2012

I’ve felt this way several times in the past too. Sometimes it was just that I had taken on too many responsibilities, and it was easily overcome by releasing some of those responsibilities to others. More recently though, it was a life changing event that takes time and effort to recover from. The ocean is a great comfort to me also.

Allow yourself to gradually go through a transition time, in order to find the peace and energy you need to live fully in the moment with joy.

11 07 2012
Connie Howard

I just took a week to do exactly that. Went to sit, in solitude, on the shoreline, and let the surf baptize me. It was cathartic, intense, and fortifying. It is, in my opinion, a respectful and intelligent way to come to terms with our grief and gather ourselves up again. It has changed nothing, and yet it has.

11 07 2012

Sounds perfect. ๐Ÿ™‚

11 07 2012
Cee Neuner

The rhythms of the ocean sounds wonderful!!! Be gentle with yourself you are doing wonderful!!

11 07 2012

Thanks Cee ๐Ÿ™‚

11 07 2012

oh the blessings of the oean, the shoreline, that intersection of water and earth, so very restorative, a good choice for you right now, as you walk or sit you might like to sense how you are the very life of the water, the earth, let it sparkle and shift as you sense yourself there, where Beth is too, where nothing is separate, fragmented, but All is present and whole.

11 07 2012

Lovely. Thanks Christine.

12 07 2012

My thoughts are with you. Take care Louise.

12 07 2012
Heart To Harp

Grief.Is.Hard. Period. And it has its own timetable, its own schedule of appearances and disappearances, that obeys no logic that I’ve found. Drink deep of the blessings of Mother Ocean…..

13 07 2012

This is so beautiful.
It seems I have a long standing habit of pushing myself and when I start feeling the stress I back away, take a deep breath and see how once again I put too much on my plate. I’m addicted to busyness because my upbringing taught me that staying busy meant I had the right to be here and I was being a productive citizen of the earth.
I’m slowly learning, through mindfulness, to quit scheduling myself, or at least to give up the attachment to completing my schedule.
It feels like the attachment is what causes the grief.
Thank you for your lovely message.

13 07 2012

Yes, busyness is such a trap. Thanks for stopping by Brenda ๐Ÿ™‚

19 07 2012

I’m sorry to read about the loss of Beth and your pain… You are right in that the pain holds back and then suddenly shows up and this will continue for a while; the mourning process they call it… and healing varies for us all. I send you loving light and warmth and healing hugs. I won’t pretend to know the answers or claim to know an end point, it is different for us all… The good thing is that you can and do articulate it and that is a blessing… Be blessed Louise!

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