Tuesday, February 12, 2013

There’s something in this later winter light…


…that has the ability to shatter my soul.

I don’t know if it’s the slant of the rays, or the flicker of gold and amber, or the way it bends and refracts at the exact angle of my memories...
…but somehow, in some peculiar way, the light illuminates the deepest parts of my heart…
 
It twists and turns down the paths of my mind I had thought camouflaged  by smiles and a cheerful demeanor.

Like a pain seeking missile, it navigates the hidden recesses that I’ve carefully insulated with theory and philosophy so that tenderest, most vulnerable broken shards and shatters  of my being, are alight and raw.

That cursed late winter light creeps past the brick and mortar walls I’ve constructed so carefully and liberates fragments and slivers of raw pain and remembrance. 
 
Exposed and vulnerable, the emotion releases into the cooling evening like a cloud of sadness.

I feel surrounded by a miasma of dissappointment, rejection, and failed expectations. 

Ahhh.   The protection of self is a good thing.  It cushions the corners of ugly, sharp self-awareness. 

I pull off the road and park my truck, tears clouding my vision so I am unable to see beyond the immediacy of old wounds, ripped and bleeding.

I cry for a long time. 

And, finally,  rescued by a crumpled fast food napkin crammed into the center console, I am able to dry my tears and blow my nose.

I shake my head at the power and intensity of sadness.

I drive on.

Praying for the darkness.

So I can begin the ordered repair of professional denial management.

Or I wonder if  I am really praying for the light so  I can simply pretend that everything is happy/happy/joy/joy.

Both light and dark will help my quest for peace I suspect.

In the interim, however, I am hoping for anything but this particular slant of late winter night that has the ability to shatter my soul.
 
PS.  I know I  haven't been writing in a long time.   Sorry to be all deep and broody when I finally get back to it.  I've often given people advice that sometimes writing begins the healing.   I'm taking my own advice here by sharing these deep thoughts with you.
 
PPS.  I'll be back tomorrow with Alphabe-Thursday AND I may even attempt to paint something this week.   Go.   Me!
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20 comments:

edenhills said...

I do understand this. The dark times of winter are perfect for introspection and reflecting, but that can be painful. I hope you feel like painting this week. It and writing are both good for the soul.

Gail said...

I have reached a very deep valley this winter and it hasn't been winter at all.

Heal well and quickly.

Linda @ A La Carte said...

Somehow the dark days of winter and some stress has put me in a depression I am fighting to get out of! You are not alone my friend!
hugs, Linda

Lori Alexander said...

Oh, I hope you feel better soon, Jenny. Everyone seems to go through valleys at times in life and they sure are difficult. I cling to the Rock of my salvation during those times and He gets me through. I will pray for you. Love, Lori

"Alone again.... naturally!" said...

I can totally relate to this! Especially looking for the "happyhappyjoyjoy"! It is amazing how light can affect you in different ways. It is always so gloomy this time of year here and people's moods reflect that. Then the glorious sun comes out and all is well again. Hope you find the "sun" in your life Jenny!

Viki said...

I think sometimes you just have to give in to those feelings sometimes.
It's not pleasurable but either is denying them. Eventually you will get past them, until the next time. I just think it's life.

Janie Junebug said...

There's a certain Slant of light,
Winter Afternoons --
That oppresses, like the Heft
Of Cathedral Tunes --

Heavenly Hurt, it gives us . . .

Emily Dickinson

Love,
Janie

Naperville Now said...

go, you, always.

Sandy said...

Oh Jenny,

This is such a raw post and I wish I could give you a hug right now....I have so been there!!! Always trying the "happy happy joy joy" approach when inside I am screaming " This is not how I feel damn it!" If one more person tells me to be positive instead of negative I might just do bodily harm! Do they really think we want to be here???? I hope you find a path that is real for you most of the time...Love and Hugs, Sandy

Pat Tillett said...

It was dark, moody and full of pain. It was also some good writing...

We don't even have a winter where I live and I still hate it. The shortness of the days really does effect the way I feel. I can't even imagine living in a place where it is dark and cold for long periods of time.

Maureen said...

I'm glad you are writing again. I'm listening.

Tracy Cook said...

That is a beautiful piece of writing. I love. He way that we can and do use various words in a variety of ways to clear our minds of all the mish mash that gets lodged in the nooks and crannies of our brains. Popping to the surface at the slightest nudge.
Love your writing
Blessings
Tracy xxxxx.
((((((((()(JENNY )))))))))))

Jenny said...

I know the feeling. I've had it for two months. My psychiatrist said I have Van Gogh's disease. That made me feel even better! xo Jenny

J. Kwiatkowski-Schuler said...

It's wonderful that you wrote this. How can light so golden feel so cold? I think the balance may soon tip to a balmier, gentler light and green things will come.

Theresa said...

Well, HUGS and prayers coming your way! Adding in a HUGE Ganky smile from chilly Georgia! We appreciate the mountains so much more after having been in the valleys. I pray that your climb will be quick and painless! HUGS!

pasqueflower said...

A beautiful and deeply moving post. I, too, find myself in a state of

professional denial management

much of the time. Hugs to you.

Debra said...

Have you ever held it all in for months and then watched a chick flick sad movie and bawled for half an hour because you are crying about the movie, your own life, the entire life of the world etc ? If the light didn't get you a sad movie would surely come along
We just need to let it all out sometimes

Amy said...

Its as if your pen etched out the screamings of my heart these past few years. The pretending gets to be exhausting sometimes, doesn't it? I don't really have words of comfort for you as I am rocking that same boat, careful to not tip it over but sometimes dangerously close. But I do have a hug for you. And a smile. {{-:)-}}
By the way. The kids made something for you clear back in October that I haven't sent yet... can I get your address? The new one because happy for you, you moved!

Sue (Someones Mom) said...

I could feel what you wrote and I really hoped it helped you to write it. Sometimes we have to take off the mask and let the truth show. I am sorry for your pain.

Splendid Little Stars said...

This is a stunningly beautiful piece of writing. so sorry for your pain.
sending many, many hugs.