Abandonment is a wound you’ll never heal up of

Wound you’ll never heal up of

heal up of? Really? We French have problems with these suffixes, you know? We don’t have these. So… I hope you understand my wobblenglish!

I have a friend – she’s 10 years older than me.

She told me one day she had to see a therapist. Because after a break-up, she was… destroyed inside, devastated for months, for years!

She needed FOUR years of therapy to understand this :

There is NO WAY you can be healed of this “abandonment syndrome”.

Then she told me that when she was confronted with this horrible pain, she just learned to recognize it, and like “talking to the pain” :

“Welcome, you silly devil! Do your stuff, will you? Hurt me. Tear me up. Watch me cry. It’s your job. I don’t care”.

Of course, she cared, in an “as if” pridy mood, like a cow-boy in Arizona “watching the sea”… but she’s aware, now. Maybe it’s the secret : to be aware of her own disastrous pain…

Mind specialists are very found of these theories, as you know. They say you’re devastated “because it resonates with your childhood”, right? Abandonic people, as they say. “You’ll make it, you see”. Acceptance of the pain…

Well. OK. But isn’t it too easy?

Maybe my friend was wounded to the deepest and destroyed inside, not “because she felt like abandoned-by-her-mother as a baby”, but maybe because it’s just terrible to be left by a person you loved, that gave you this feeling of being special, of being alive, and who then changed his mind. Because it’s awful to be rejected like that. Because it’s very strange to see your own brain drowning in “this” loneliness when you lose your sidekick, your soulmate, the man you wanted to marry, the guy who danced with your mind. Because it’s weird to see your life broken, thrown to the ground like dustshit, then being treated with contempt…

Well, etc, right? Everybody’s been there. You don’t count (mean?) anymore. You can park. You can record the big desert you have in you now. You can agree will all theories who say you don’t “need” someone else to be happy. Yeah yeah yeah! You’re just hurt, and alone. Talk to your pain :

“Welcome, you silly devil! Do your stuff, will you? Hurt me. Tear me up. Watch me cry. It’s your job. I don’t care”.

Close your eyes. You’ll never, ever heal. Grab these simple theories (or not). But acceptance is the way. “Shattered by experience and memory”…

 

Thanks for reading!

 

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Aujourd’hui c’est gris / Today it’s grey

In English, to be sad is to feel blue, which is a bit strange. Blue is the blue sky ! In France, we say : “Je vois la vie en gris aujourd’hui” – I see my life in grey today.

This morning the sky was grey, a still blanketlid of grey. My mood was grey : I smiled and said “Aujourd’hui c’est gris !”, today’s grey. So I chose grey clothes and I’m writing this with my cat Bidou on my knees, listening to…

On YouTube I searched “Hindemith Langsam” (try !) but I picked, at the end, the Apollo of Stravinsky. It’s, say, velvet grey, elegant, a standing up melancholia.

When you feel blue, you can fight it with orange and yellow colors, and listen to Cuban happy trumpetting shit, OR you can sit in front of the window, near the rain, watching the grey, listening to some Satie. It depends on how you’re made, inside.

If today I had to compose a piano piece, I’d call it “I miss you, Swanny”; it would be Satiesque – with a veil, behind, like these clouds under.

Lever : Choose your weapon ! When you’re in a blue mood, what’s effective ? To sing a fake happiness on tropical dances, or try to hold your shit to slowly stand up ?

 

#sky