Posts Tagged ‘heartache’

It Gets Better…and Then It Gets Worse

Monday, December 3rd, 2012

I had about three even-keeled days.

Okay, probably just two, but still. They were a welcome relief. I actually called some people and arranged some interviews and stuff I’m supposed to be doing but haven’t been doing. Oh, I clearly haven’t explained myself well over the last few months either. In addition to the food writing, I also do the Arts and Entertainment for Maui Now. Since there is no real “assignment” ever – it’s kind of the Seinfeld of jobs. You have to invent things to talk about. – I decided to try to interview the big names when they come to our little rock.

This is hit or miss, as mentioned, but it’s fun when it hits.

And – believe it or not – the big names are easier to gain access to than the local talent. There are some real divas on this little rock.

So anyway, I was doing okay. My false hope propels me and all that.

But then last night?

Totally devastated again as if it was a brand new wound.


I have been working diligently on the new (anonymous) blog, so I won’t be torturing you with too much of my heartache and woe, but I ran across this quote again today and it makes even more sense now than it did a couple weeks ago:

“We think that the point is to pass the test or overcome the problem, but the truth is that things don’t really get solved. They come together and they fall apart. Then they come together again and fall apart again. It’s just like that. The healing comes from letting there be room for all of this to happen: room for grief, for relief, for misery, for joy.”

~Pema Chodron

She’s right – obviously – but that doesn’t mean it’s easy.

In fact, the hardest part of Buddhism, let alone life, is accepting the fact that we’re not in control of anything and the more we attach ourselves or try to control, the more we suffer.

Still, there are days I take this REALLY personally.

It’s so unfathomable and there is no template for what this means or why it has happened or how to even understand it.

As a dear friend of mine wrote last night, “He is a paradox. I have never heard of someone who so clearly loved someone else just cut them out of their life. I understand how unbearable this must be.”

My dad perhaps put it best, “I’ve never heard of anything like this…and I’ve been alive a long time.”

Although my mind knows what Pema Chodron has written is true, my heart is taking this personally. Like if I was a better person or more lovable or worthwhile, he wouldn’t or couldn’t have done this to me. Or he would have at least sent a text cutting me loose and changed his Facebook and removed the “in a relationship”” and my false hope (which is all but lost at this point.)

Between you and me, it has truly made me feel deeply insignificant and even worthless: like I’m not even enough to say goodbye to.

As I’ve said before: super unfun times

I’ll try to channel all this angst and pain into my new blog moving forward and hopefully come up with something entertaining soon.

Again, I am sorry to have talked about this so much, but having a year and a half long relationship totally vanish into thin air (without so much as a spat or other fathomable precursor) has arguably been the most painful experience of my life.

If your own loved one is still around, give them a hug just for showing up.

Apparently it’s harder for some of us than I would have guessed.


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Be still my broken heart

Thursday, July 24th, 2008

It’s 4:12 a.m. where I live, and I should be giving my dog her heart medication. However, I got up and couldn’t find her…anywhere. I scoured the whole house and then went back inside to get a flashlight and after ten minues of searching, my flashlight caught the reflection of her open eyes on the hill in the back yard. From the looks of things, she went out to do #2 and had a heart attack and died. It strikes me that she’s kind of like Elvis, dying on the toilet, only without the fried peanut butter and banana sandwich. She actually ate on her own tonight, and I finally allowed myself some real genuine hope that the nightmare of the last 96 hours could end happily. My beef with god has just gotten that much bigger.

Why does it seem all my pets die with their mouths open? And I can’t get them to close after they’re gone? Pixie didn’t look as tortured as Jerry – my cat who died a year and a half ago of skin cancer – but finding her that way will haunt me. My brain simply doesn’t know what to do with all this pain.

Meanwhile, I’ve been thinking a lot about Neil Young today, probably because I have never felt more helpless in my whole life than I have the last few days. I keep hearing his sad singing:

“Leave us

Helpless, helpless, helpless

Baby can you hear me now?

The chains are locked

and tied across the door,

Baby, sing with me somehow.Blue, blue windows behind the stars,

Yellow moon on the rise,

Big birds flying across the sky,

Throwing shadows on our eyes.

Leave us

Helpless, helpless, helpless.”




Have you ever listened to Lou Reed’s Magic and Loss? It’s an album about death and how to cope with it. I have the CD out in the other room. Tomorrow (or today I suppose it really is) is probably a good day to play it. I first heard the album with Lukas, someone else who’s gone now too.

Life’s like a mayonnaise soda

And life’s like space without room

And life’s like bacon and ice cream

That’s what life’s like without you

Life’s like forever becoming

But life’s forever dealing in hurt

Now life’s like death without living

That’s what life’s like without you

Life’s like Sanskrit read to a pony

I see you in my mind’s eye strangling on your tongue

What good is knowing such devotion

I’ve been around – I know what makes things run

What good is seeing eye chocolate

What good’s a computerized nose

And what good was cancer in April

Why no good – no good at all

What good’s a war without killing

What good is rain that falls up

What good’s a disease that won’t hurt you

Why no good, I guess, no good at all

What good are these thoughts that I’m thinking

It must be better not to be thinking at all

A styrofoam lover with emotions of concrete

No not much, not much at all

What’s good is life without living

What good’s this lion that barks

You loved a life others throw away nightly

It’s not fair, not fair at all

What’s good ?

Not much at all

What’s good ?

Life’s good -

But not fair at all

What a terrible few days this has been. I’m simply stunned – and so terribly heartbroken – by it all. Life is good, but not fair at all.

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