Journals of Lord Malinov

the poetry of madness

sting

There is much pain in growth, but it is an endurable, almost wonderful kind of pain, the dizzy discomfort of an unfocussed new perspective, the burn of shifted habits, the pull against old motions, the sting of newly exercised muscles.  Sometimes the pain overwhelms the joys, but with each additional step in the right direction, the pain fizzles to a low murmur.  The war against anxiety is perpetual, like pushing back the ocean, never finished, only successful in general measures.  Once the truth of calmness is felt, however, it is an addictive feeling.  Until the feeling is forgotten in the mad bustle of life on the run.

The only time a man should be in a hurry is when a tiger is coming up the stairs.

The last few days have been filled with preparations.  The boys came over last night and Tess will be joining us later today.  The house has been wholly transformed, in ways I never imagined possible.  A few alterations to the way we use the space has opened everything, brand new vistas to stage our drama.  The boys are happy to be here.  The time will be short.  There is so much I want to teach them.

I have many regrets and as I grow stronger, some of them deepen.  I don't regret them as mistakes, although I take responsibility for my decisions and actions, but until a few months ago, I was horribly crippled by the vice-grip of my anxieties.  I can question my past by discounting my anxiety - I should have done this or that - or explain my past in terms of anxiety - of course, I acted madly, I was being tortured by anxiety devils.  Neither is very satisfying, for as wonderful as things could have been absent my anxiety, it took me the whole of 43 years to even start making inroads against my oppressor.  It would be rather foolish to discount my accomplishments by insisting they should have come sooner.  Yeah, if it's so easy why didn't you do it.  Maybe I didn't want to.  Yeah, maybe because you couldn't.  I know you couldn't.  (Stop bickering with yourself)

I have a deep reservoir of love for a woman who doesn't deserve my affection.  What do I do with that?  Fond memories are bound to recur in the course of time, memories completely removed from the recent insanity.  Reasonably, I understand the flow of time and the distant places it has taken us to, but in the wake of such memories, I don't find myself thinking much.  I miss the girl, in ways, at times. 

And having children together - a flock of younguns - I will never be free of her.  Funny how it works.  Funny.

I am unhappy in my lack of interpersonal skills in certain regards.  After conversations with Cats, I am determined to approach the problem with a desire to learn the solution.  We'll see how it goes.

Carrying on, a wayward son,

Malinov

posted by: Malinov at 08:58 | link | comments (4) |

Comments:

#1  05 July 2005 - 15:46

 

You're a big baby; toughen up and stop your whining. Last time I checked, this place was still called "Earth" and not "Heaven". Life is what you make out of it, no one is promised anything out of life.

Mo'nonymous

#2  05 July 2005 - 21:05

 

no, wait, I have my receipt here somewhere. It definitely makes warranties and representations.

M

Malinov

#3  06 July 2005 - 07:14

 

warning: those in the cry baby camp can stop reading now. this comment will be way too touchy feely for you.

"I have a deep reservoir of love for a woman who doesn't deserve my affection. What do I do with that?" Let go of whether she deserves it or not. That's a meaningless point as far as you're concerned and is just a measure of your own anger.

Concede that you still haven't completely finished working through the end of that relationship. You've got to get down in the muck and work through the loss, grief, pain, anger and all that good stuff before you can really normalize how you feel about this person (and, incidentally, before you can be fully present for your current love, imho). If you think you've already done that, from what you say here, i'd say not enough. not deeply enough.

howard

#4  08 July 2005 - 11:15

 

you said it yourself,and the fact that you have children, should help you realize that longing for the lost will haunt you, until you forgive and again except the unending nature of love. Itis forged within and can not be unmade
Yor heart is chained to it, and thus must bear the weight. I know i love one who's chalice of crystal which held our mutual affections was shattered by my foolish and ignorant folly. Thus tainting the love. once shatered it can not be put back together. but the fellings i have remain as does my sorrow. D.

TinCre3489

Comments: