Thursday, March 13, 2008

The tar pit

I find it hard to breathe today. Yesterday we talked about the past again. We can't live in the past, and yet every time I am being drawn to talk about it, I find it hard to reconcile myself with it.

It is like stirring a pot of tar. It's thick and seemingly impossible to move, but slowly, with effort and momentum, it moves. And sticks. It's a congealed mess. At the end of it, you marvel at the blackness, the stickiness, the pain of effort.

Before we began, she asked me if I knew why we were going through this. I said I hoped that if she knew the details of what went on for me and what still goes on for me, that she will offer helpful suggestions as to how I could manage them. She seemed pleased with my answer.

I felt lost when I got home last night. I sat down and burst out crying. It surprised me. Shocked me. But there I was, crying, as though my heart was broken and as though the flood of tears would never cease. I desperately wanted to go on talking. But there wasn't anyone to listen anymore. I have to wait another 7 days before I can talk again.

Sometimes I feel as though my heart would burst from such retention.


James said...

Great analogy with the tar pit. I feel like I'm stuck in one too and with every move It gets worse. The harder I fight the more I get ensnared.

Zathyn Priest said...

I used to be so stoic in concerns to crying - crying meant showing weakness and weakness meant danger. In many ways I'm still like that and hate crying in front of people. Guess it all comes from how we're raised, and we're raised has a lot to answer for. I wish I could say more to ease the hurt in your heart, because I know how deep that pain goes. Sometimes crying is the only way to express it when words just keep on failing us.