Loss As A New Meaning

2024 Author: Harry Day | [email protected]. Last modified: 2023-12-17 15:43

Loss. Loss. Unpleasant words. All life is permeated with a series of losses and losses. I am losing daily. A lot of. I am wasting the time allotted to me for life, I am losing other opportunities, making a choice in favor of something specific. I lose my meanings, illusions, sometimes people. Thank God that my loss of people is rarely fatal. Yes, I lost my entire blood family - these people are no longer at all, but the loss of a relationship with someone is quite common. Someone leaves my contacts, new ones come to replace them, the cycle repeats. I have lost things, jewelry, money many times…. At one time I thought that the worst thing was the physical loss of loved ones, the loss of my life and time, all other losses are less painful, although an unsuccessful haircut also greatly upset me. Why are losses so unpleasant? And the fact that you have to go through pain. Soulful. Or physical, if we talk about bodily loss: lost health, leg, kidney …, horror. It hurts in general. Grief happens. Mourning for the lost begins. Badly. Fearfully. And pain, pain….

The losses of the last five years of my life have been very consciously lived. The process of mourning in all the stories went on in a healthy way, I was not stuck anywhere, and I came out of loss with new experience, new knowledge, more whole and alive. Over the years, I became an orphan, lost a couple of powerful illusions that collapsed unexpectedly and to smithereens, lost several important relationships and attachments. The last week was the time when I say goodbye to another myth of my life, painfully return to reality, but since I am not running from pain, suffering, reflection, I flop in all this, make the muddy water transparent, extract knowledge about myself and experience, and integrate the experience freshly gained with the experience of previous years. And that's what I found the most surprising and unexpected.

Whatever loss happens - whether my mother died, whether she lost money, for which there was the last hope, whether a significant relationship collapsed, I, of course, cry. With tears outside and inside. I am sick, I suffer, I rush, I freeze in sorrow and depression. About whom? For mom? For the money? Relationship? I feel sorry for them? So I thought so. Yes, that was not the case. I guessed about it, but my pain of the last week convinced me of the correctness of my guesses. I do not feel sorry for my mother herself - we are all mortal, my mother left at one time, she suffered, it was terrible for her to live for the last year, and I am even partly glad for her that these sufferings had stopped. Do you think I feel sorry for the green pieces of paper that I stupidly pissed off (sorry) out of carelessness? Or what I didn't buy with them? Nothing like this! Do you think I feel sorry for the crooked illusion of unhealthy relationships that ruined my life? The most painful thing in these losses, as in any other, is the loss of some idea of oneself! Any grief is always a mourning for oneself, which will never be the same again. I will never become anyone else's daughter or granddaughter. I know how to be them, it's great, but I still don't know who I am and what kind of daughter and granddaughter I am, and it hurts and scares me - I am, but the quality is different. Unfamiliar. And here it hurts, anxious, scary.

Having lost money, I have lost the idea of myself as an infallible being: I do not lose, I am not late, I don’t fail, I don’t be lazy, I don’t sleep, I am perfect. But it turned out that hell would be there: I lose, and I am lazy, and I forget, and I am late! Ordinary, in short. Like billions of others. I thought, but it turned out! Shock! And then grief according to all the laws of the genre. The last discovery about myself - I am not God. I can do something and something depends on me. But I can't do everything. What a pity. And I thought everything. And so terribly this discovery is experienced! But on the other hand, I simultaneously see and admit that billions of strangers and loved ones are not Gods either. And they are also not without limitations. We are all just people. People, alive, vulnerable, imperfect, weak, a little more wounded and a little healthier than a friend nearby or opposite. That I am now my own child and parent. The adult here is me. And from these discoveries that came after the pain, there is so much air, freedom and Life that I do not want the next losses, of course, but I am not afraid of them, as something that will destroy my life. No. Not life will destroy. The self-image will destroy. But in order for something new to be rebuilt, there must be a place for the destruction of the old. This is the road to life, through thorns to the stars.