womanofthelight

I cannot transcend this grief. Every wave is heavier than the last . . . Ohhhhhhhhhhhhhh . . . I don't think I can live any more . . . it's too . . . painful I have no hope no hope no hope no hope

Three nights ago, I woke to my falling out of bed. Two nights ago, I woke to my leg on its way over the side of the bed. Last night, I woke with (what felt like) my arm being flung over the side of the bed, expecting me to follow. ????????????????????????

Thank you, my friend.

What do you mean, "vanish?"!!!!!!

Another night with little sleep. I want grief to carry me away from this life. I accomplish nothing. So I've decided to get rid of all my belongings. There is little point in keeping them now. I look for, but receive little comfort to lift me from this morass of sorrow; my life is pointless. I want to be in that other dimension where my brother is. Who made up that stupid lie about god not giving you more than you could bear? JunkPsych. JunkFaith. JUNKJOKE. My brother couldn't bear his illness. It k.i.l.l.e.d him. Sometimes I imagine I'm on his deathbed with him, lying down next to him, holding his head, his shoulder(s) that were so painful due to years of repetitive motion. Telling him it's just the end of his body. Not his soul. As though he were my child. PAUL. The pain is over. Near the end, he got little satisfaction from the career to which he dedicated his life--his career in music--and what a brilliant career he had. Principal bass in the orchestra; taught master classes at Julliard; played in orchestral ensembles for movie soundtracks; organized and played in a string quartet. It was the teaching at Rutgers that so demoralized him. Seeing the way the school was just hungry for money; expecting teachers to lead the kids down the garden path when they had little talent or didn't even like playing the instrument. So he quit teaching there. It hurt him to see that the musicians in the orchestra used rehearsal time to practice, instead of coming in, having devoured the score, knowing the parts, entrances and dynamics of every other instrument in the symphony. There he was, doing what he once loved so dearly, seeing it turn to dust around him.--but he did set a standard for OTHERS as he did for himself--to which those others could not, or would not aspire. And so he had contempt for them. Paul. Paul. Paul. If I'd had half the passion for anything that he did for music, maybe I wouldn't be ill. My structural deficits are so painful now, I see no reason to get out of bed. I live in a State where "pain management" means "No pain management." It offends me that lawmakers think that everyone who needs pain meds will make a leap to h.e.r.o.i.n. ?????????? So, I get to be in physical pain, as I have been for the last several years. And it's not abating. One reason I want out of this life. Not only do I want the emotional pain to stop, but the physical pain, too. I don't want to be conscious. I don't want to be alive any more. I'm trapped in a life that is NOT WHAT I WANTED. Gratitude usually ebbs the tide of dissatisfaction, but gratitude is hard to muster lately. I can't see the good, the worthwhile, the meaningful in anything--except maybe music. Okay. I'm grateful that my parents started us with exposure to all kinds of music. Dad used to carry each one of his children around the house when we were quite young--months old, I think. One of my sisters wept so violently at Tchaikovsky's 6th that he never played it for her again. Do we carry memories from past lives with us? I think so, when we're young. Thank you mom and dad. And dad, poor dad. He's going deaf! Such painful irony! We were in Whole Foods the other day and . . . it hurts me so to see him so bewildered, lost in the ambient noise, not knowing what's going on around him. I know he must feel isolated -- it k.i.l.l.s me to write it. Is this what life is about? Seeing the ones you love suffer? Out! Out! F.u.c.k.i.n.g candle! I can't see the light.

Playlist of Movie Themes : The Magnificent Seven; To K.i.l.l a Mockingbird - Elmer Bernstein The Nun's Story; Peyton Place; - Franz Waxman The Thorn Birds; Charade - Henry Mancini The Diary of Anne Frank; The Robe - Alfred Newman Love Theme from Spartacus; Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf? - Alex North Vertigo; Taxi Driver - Bernard Herrmann Quartiere; The Mission (Gabriel's Oboe) - Ennio Morricone

Mahler Symphony No. 9 , 1st Movement - Kurt Mazur & New York Philharmonic

While going through some family photos to bring to my therapy session, I started crying uncontrollably. No one I know is awake at this time of night, except perhaps someone here. My room looks like a c r a z y person lives in it. I am quite m a d right now, I guess, as deep grief will have it. "The miserable have no other remedy but only hope . . . " (Wm. Shakespeare, Measure for Measure) I hope my brother knows how much I love him . . . A piece called "Goodbye, brother" from Game Of Thrones just started in the playlist I'm listening to. I'd forgotten I placed it there. It is somehow comforting. or else I feel like, in Wings of Desire (movie, circa 1988), an angel has put its ear to my lips--my face--to hear me and relieve me of this burden tonight. Maybe it was actually . . . Paul. Is that c r a z y? There is so much I want to know--so much I must depend upon feeling to understand. Right now, this moment, I feel better. Will get a little writing done and hang up one article of clothing.

Having my wee-hours cry. You're very brave, Sober. Don't forget you have family and friends. Please call on us when you need to. I'm so sorry for your loss.

Why Can't He Be You? - Patsy Cline

Yesterday I Heard the Rain - Tony Bennett

"Tonight You Belong to Me" - Patience and Prudence

I'm so sorry you're in pain! Our culture does a number on us women. (I'm sure men get it somehow, but since I'm female, I don't feel their pain around the issue.) "Use this lipstick, this scent, wear this skirt, this b.r.a, wax all hair not on your head, whiten your teeth, color your hair, lose weight, do pilates, do yoga, . . . " The standard of beauty seems to be a Victoria's Secret model sashaying around in s.e.x.y. u.n.d.e.r.w.e.a.r!!! It's no wonder women feel diminished. It sounds to me like you're being EXTREMELY hard on yourself, especially given the stats you shared. When I was young I gained a lot of weight suddenly at puberty. I spent my adolescence on a rigid food regimen and lost the weight on 1250 calories per day, exercising 3 days a week. Even at that young age, it took me a year to lose 45 lbs. And I never believed I was good enough. Thin enough. Pretty enough -- just NOT ENOUGH. I was complaining to my late brother one day (years ago) about aging and the difficulty navigating a slowing metabolism (10% each decade). Always sardonic yet hilarious he said to me: "Ten years from now, you're going to wish you looked like you do now."

Not just water, but Smartwater. It raises the i.q., you know . . .

Space Junk - Wang Chung