ESSAYS
My Losing YearAUCKLAND, NEW ZEALAND 03 December 2009 |
|
This time last year, I lost the ability to swallow.
Shards of truth lodged in my throat like dry peanut husks waiting to choke me. I couldn't swallow them down. The truth tasted like bile and I could not bear its taste.
I lost my substance. My weight fell from my bones leaving me unprotected and insubstantial in the face of the prevailing wind. My clothes didn't fit anymore; they hung off my hips like I was a child playing dress up in an adult's closet. I felt naked. My skin stretched along long bones that didn't feel strong enough to carry me.
I lost my love. My storybook love had its happy ending stolen. New characters had made their way into the pages and red roses had been switched for poisoned apples. The threads that bound my love and I together were sliced apart with razor skill.
I had known the end was coming. I knew it in my bones, like animals sense an impending earthquake. I knew it but I ignored it, even though the sliver of truth was embedded in my raw and bloody throat.
I was terrified of losing my heart. I held on with rope-like fingers, twisting and clutching until I had nothing left to hold. I could feel my love slipping through the knots and the more I grasped, the looser my grip became.
I took to bargaining. I offered myself. I humiliated myself.
I lost my advantage. Where once I had been young and pretty and assured in my own skin, I did not recognise the face looking back at me from the looking glass. I could not see my own beauty in the mirror. I saw only my rival.
A rival who came with a hungry eye and a mouth full of flattery. I did not have such things to offer anymore. My tongue held only bitterness; all the honeyed words having long ago dripped off it.
I fashioned my lips into a hard line like a scar. I would not open my lips for him. I would not speak lest I spit out my teeth which had lost their bite, their sharpness; the very same teeth I dreamed of each night falling from my mouth like tarnished pearls.
I lost my love forever as the New Year rang in. My beloved's phone now held messages that had not been sent by me. My beloved's heart no longer beat for me. My beloved's eye was focused on a different shape, a silhouette that did not belong to me.
I choked it down.
I lost my way. The path, which I had carefully navigated, had reached an end. I wished for a guiding light. I wanted a compass on which I could rely. I wanted time to reverse or speed up or stop. I wished for the pain to disappear.
The loss of my love led to the death of hope. It weighed on me like a rock on my chest. How could I possibly love again when what I had given was not enough? Who could possibly love me again when I had failed to hold onto something precious and rare?
I had thought that I was strong enough.
Smart enough.
Passionate enough.
Kind enough.
But in the end, I just wasn't good enough.
When he left, he took with him every future Christmas. Every milestone birthday.
I lost his daughter. She was never truly mine, I had only borrowed her. But when my love left, she had to follow too. Now I must think twice when I see an outfit she would like in a store. I am not invited to her school plays or sports days. The end of us was the end of my hitching myself to his daughter's star.
I lost my dream of having my own child. I always knew it was only ever a dream, but the seed of it I had protected like a fragile bloom. I had nourished and tended it with my sentimental imagination.
Now it is no garden, but grief, that I tend to.
The truth bruised me. Memory slipped down my throat, burning all the way.
We started our love affair with words. I gave him all my best words. The loving ones, the sweet ones that I had saved up and borrowed from poets long dead. He gave me his words in exchange. I believed them. I swallowed the whispered promises that he spilled into my ear and onto my pillow. I did not realise that he was simply an actor looking for a stage on which he could practice his lines.
I did not have enough applause inside me to sustain us.
I lost a decade. My hands built a life that had no foundation. All the construction was faulty. Ten years was swept away with a speed and ease that left me bereft.
I was stripped.
Bare.
I was naked in the knowledge that my love was not enough. My words were not enough.
And now I only have these:
I wish I had never met him.
I want him to know that my voice breaks as I say these words. They crack and splinter against my tongue. My throat tightens and wraps itself around the spell-breaking sounds as if to try and prevent them falling from my mouth.
But slowly I am learning to eat the truth and spit out its deadly bones.
I have taught myself not to choke. I have taught myself these words:
"I have lost all those things.
I have lost them.
But in the wreckage, I have found myself and I am enough."
|
||
Related Posts |
Oh, Z.
I hate that you’ve written this piece. Because you’re so much more than enough, and you shouldn’t ever have to put your fingers to work writing something like this.
Speaking personally, meeting you, hanging out with you, and becoming your friend has been one of the best and brightest points of 2009, and you’ve helped me make it through what has been a shitty, shitty year.
2010, brew. 2010 for the win. And T-Pac for life!
I’m with Simon on this, as you should know, Z.
It’s been a terrible year for me as well. I knew it would be, because the writing was on the wall last December, but I knew I had to somehow get through it, and you helped me more than I can say, and continue to do so. I can only hope to be so helpful to you one day.
2010, as Simon says. Yes, Z. Yes.
I’m going to form the third point in this triangle (though I’m sure Lenore will come along eventually and make us a square) and echo Simon and Duke’s statements. There’s a certain weekend spent in Los Angeles this past September that stands as the high point to an otherwise rough and horrid year. It’s Mt. Everest among an otherwise flat and inhospitable wasteland, and you’re right there at the top of it.
You come back my way, you’ve got a big hug and a yummy homecooked meal waiting for you.
Aw you guys.
Thank you all for being such sweethearts. I really don’t know what I would have done without you. You have all helped me pick myself up and square my shoulders and brush myself off and for that I will always be so very grateful.
You’re the best.
and yes, 2010..Hey Ho Let’s Go!
My lovely Zara
Every line you write is breathtakingly beautiful.
Every line you write is pure poetry.
Every line you write reveals such depth and dignity.
As a human being, you touch my soul so strongly; as your mama, you touch my heart.
Thanks Mama. You’re one out of the box yourself.
I love you!
Ow, ow, ow this hurt to read. So much feeling. You are, as your platonic loves above said, more than enough. I loved the part about you giving him all your best words. And the fact you lost the relationship with his daughter too, that just really pained me.
Have you planned something amazing for New Year’s Eve? Bid a bad year farewell & welcome 2010 at the same time? You should. Overhyped ritual, yes, but the ceremony of it could help. x
Hey Megan,
That’s a great idea - I haven’t really thought about New Years Eve, but you are right - a farewell to a shit year is a very good idea. Thank you for the suggestion!
My heart breaks for you, Zara.
I hope that in writing this piece you’ve gained some insight into the strength inside of you. It sucks that shitty things happen to wonderful people like you. In the short time I’ve known you, you’ve inspired me in so many ways.
“The greatest danger, that of losing one’s own self, may pass off quietly as if it were nothing; every other loss, that of an arm, a leg, five dollars, a wife, etc., is sure to be noticed.” - Soren Kierkegaard
I’m glad that you have found yourself, and I asure you that if you were to lose yourself it would be anything but quiet. We’d definitely notice and stop you!
Love and Hugs
Simone, you are such a treasure.
That’s a great quote and one that resonates strongly with me.
Thank you for reading and for being so kind with your encouragement. It means a great deal to me. And 2010 will be a happy and wonderful year for you too…
This was so difficult to read, Zara. I’m so sorry that something so terrible happened to you. You’re so brave to write about it, too.
Thank you David. You are kind to say that. I’ll tell you what - your stories have really helped bring a smile to my face this year and you’ve given me some of the best laughs I’d had in ages, so I thank you for being a part of my healing process!
Zara:
In my own way, I can totally relate to what you’re going through. Stay strong, my dear. And yes indeed, know that you are enough. More than enough.
Rich,
Thank you so much. I feel much stronger and I know that it has so much to do with the incredible support and love that comes from this site and its wonderful writers like you.
Dear Zara, I hurt to the bone after reading this. I’m sorry you had to experience the pain and loss, especially that you felt such a separation from your funny, talented, brilliant self. Someone once told me that people need mirrors for their pain. It makes them feel less alone, and it can be healing. I say people also need mirrors for their beauty. I’m holding up something for you to see……
Ronlyn,
I am so glad you are here at TNB. Your comments mean so much to me and they always hit just the right spot. I shine a mirror right back at you and at all the writers on this site who show me what real beauty looks like. Thank you for being here.
Big hugs from the Deep South!
And South Pacific ones for you! xx
Oh Zara, such a beautifully raw and open story. The great thing is that you have clarity: “I did not have enough applause inside me to sustain us.” That line tells everything we need to know. Sadly, a lot of relationships are sustained by the continual applause of one person for the person who needs to be on stage. Now you know what to avoid!
I’m sending you good wishes and strength and power!
Thank you Jessica!
You are so very right - I do know what to avoid next time!
Thanks for the good wishes and strength and power - I’m am so lucky to be surrounded by such good and amazing people like you.
Thank you for writing this. I’m going through a little something, too. The love who left b/c he didn’t want children, just had a child. It guts me. I don’t expect life to be fair, but does it have to be so cruel sometimes?
2010: forging new destinies.
Oh Ducky, I’m so sorry. That must hurt like shit.
I wish life wasn’t so unfair. I’m sending you a big hug.
and yes - 2010. Here’s to new and exciting destinies!
Life goes on. Thanks for the hug. I’m squeezing you back. We’re gonna have the most kickass destinies of all.
Why do I feel like there are tears all over my computer?
Oh Nick! Now you’ve made me cry!!!
I hope I haven’t wrecked your keyboard…
xx
You need a good cry. Get them all out. Pour a river if you have to. Look, you and I, we’re both not dumb. You needed to dust off 2009 with a piece like this. So cry it out. The big blue bruised world is like that. It needs a few more tears now and then. But then when you’re done, stop crying. Destroy this post if you have to. Save all the emails from who commented and have a toast and send one big thank you to the symphony of tears who shared your moment of realizing the betrayal that love often is. But that’s it. You are stronger than further tears and misery. There are new moments to be had. In all of the sadness and turmoil, there are still flowers, good beating hearts, dirt that smells rich, air that’s crisp, coffee that’s fresh, and a wondrous horizon of friends. The hard part is realizing it’s all there when the world seems only spinning in an upside-down top. After all, we’re all just alone with our friends. And so few they are. Much love. - Nick
Nick,
Bless your heart -because it is an extraordinary one.
x
Oh, Zara. Lovely, lovely Zara. You see? We *are* related. (Although this particular tie that binds, I’d prefer didn’t - for both of our sakes.)
It’s not *you* who wasn’t good enough. I hope you know that now. ‘Cause it would brake my heart into a thousand shattered bits if you didn’t.
I love you.
Let’s run away together, ‘k? TNBLE-Fiji. Bring it.
And by brake my heart, I guess I do kind of mean ‘arrest/stop’ but mostly I meant ‘break’.
Hard to proof before coffee.
Kimberly - you are so great. I would love to run away with you, but does it have to be Fiji?
And thanks for the kind words, I’m starting to feel like I am good enough and at the risk of sounding like a broken record -a lot of that has to do with you wonderful folks at TNB. I am so blessed to have such good friends and family. xxx
Zara, You did NOT give him all your best words… you have written them here.
Robin,
This just made me smile. A lot.
Thank you so much!
Zara,
Your words cut me inside like a razor.
You are powerful.
Soft.
Music.
Strength.
Talent.
Substance.
Beauty.
A friend to many.
My friend.
And I am so lucky to call you my friend, Irene.
You are wonderful.
You have been such a tremendous support to me this year with your words and encouragement.
Thank you
Thank you
Thank you.
I don’t think I know *anyone* who is more well-spoken of and adored than you. Which makes this an entirely lousy read on all fronts. But already, in at least one way, some of this shit is behind rather than in front of you. I hope it provides some measure of relief that you’re strong enough to face it.
Fuck… I don’t know what to say. We’re all nuts about you.
I agree with Brin.
Dear Brin and Nick.
You have just made me cry.
And yes, it is behind me I think. I feel like this piece was the full stop at the end of the book and I feel ready to move on now.
Again, a lot of that strength and fortitude has come from the support and love I receive from you guys at TNB on a daily basis.
I hope you know that I am nuts about all of you too.
Thank you so much.
My heart goes out to you, Zara.
You are lovely and adored.
You are a such a sweetheart. You’ve bedazzled my heart, Megan DiLullo.
I teared up reading this because how could ANYONE on earth
treat you in such a way - make my Zara feel this way.
You’re more than enough - you’re everything - I’m glad you know this -
I think you know this - from this heart stabbing piece of writing - I think I see that you know this.
I’ve been there - so been there - and the best thing I ever did was make
something great out of it by writing (for me, songs) - and I eventually became grateful for it.
It’s all we can do, when that’s all that’s left to do, and look what you’ve done.
I feel so grateful that you write as you do and I get to know you all the way over here.
xoxo
Oh Steph.
Wonderful you.
You really make a girl feel special!
I’m sorry that you ever had to feel that way but I am glad you turned it into something great. I cannot wait to hear your music in person. Having said that, you give me music every day just by being you. xxx
step by step
you walk on
a little stronger
wiser
humble
honest
than you ever were
before
I wouldn’t pretend
to offer a platitude or
poem in reply to
this sort of
struggle
but I honor your honesty
& pray you feel the love
and acceptance you have
in this place
& I hope
in some small way it
fills the empty spaces
But really Brin said it best
I don’t know what to say
& sometimes there is
nothing to say
& there are no answers
& all we can do is walk on
I am honoured and humbled by the response I get from you.
You always say the most perfect things that still and quiet my heart and I get such peace from your poems, 11.
I am the lucky one.
Thank you from the bottom of my heart.
Thank you,
saying that
made my day
just to know
that
Wow, Zara. I’m so sorry. Allow me to echo the sentiment from earlier, about rituals: doing something special, something memorable, using the upcoming holiday to both mark a bad year and at the same time firmly set it aside . . .
I did that this past October. Last year, around the holidays, around Halloween, in fact . . . well, I was in a bad situation. Not in one in which I’d invested a decade, but a solid couple years at distance and then several months in extraordinarily close quarters. Somewhere around there I lost my way, and somewhere around there I had to make a very deliberate choice for myself. Some would call it selfish; many have. But now a year later, I’m back home, in Manhattan, and my situation is not ideal but is mine, in every way.
Regardless, a truth: you are enough. I don’t know you well yet, but you’re articulate, witty, and full of the sort of joie de vivre one so rarely truly encounters (at least from what I can tell of you. Even your comments seem to have some exuberance to them). Plus, you’re way pretty.
Will,
I think you are right and there needs to be a closure of some sort at the year end to set it aside once and for all. Funnily enough, this piece now feels like a proper end for me.
I’m sorry that you also found yourself in a bad situation but I am very glad to hear that you have reclaimed yourself. You give me hope!
And thank you for your very kind comments -I am so incredibly lucky to have such generous and lovely comments left for me, and I am very grateful for your words. x
Heartbreaking, Zara, and it makes good sense–your capacity to experience pain so deeply–considering the intensity of the caring/thoughtfulness you bring to your friendships, which is something so evident in your posts/comments.
What a lovely thing to say, Kristen.
Friendship is such a precious thing, I hope I always appreciate it and never take it for granted. Thanks for reading!
Obviously, I concur with Steph and Simon and Duke and everyone else.
But you may be interested to know that in 2009, you were under the influence of a particularly powerful and difficult transit…Pluto Square Pluto.
As Robert Hand explains:
“This transit signifies a period of general regeneration, which may not be entirely pleasant. Most of us are attached to the past whether or not it is good for us. And this transit will root out those elements of the past that are not good for you, even those aspects you have forgotten about…Many things may be destroyed at this time, and the destruction will be ruthless if you defend them with rigidity…You should simply allow the things of the past to fade and allow the future to be born on their ruins. If you can do this, the potential for positive change with Pluto is great.”
Echoes of your last paragraph.
The point is, 2010 will be a much better year for you. It’s in the stars.
G
PS
I get to do my Pluto Square in 2010. Ugh.
Oh no! Yours is next year??? Bloody Pluto.
Robert Hand is absolutely right about defending with rigidity. I held on for far too long and in the end there was absolutely nothing left to hold on to. But again, it is somewhat transforming - the phoenix from the ashes and all that. Sometimes we need to destroy the old to transform into something richer and more beautiful.
But while 2009 has been a particularly difficult year in many ways, it has also been quite amazing in terms of creating new friendships that I feel so humbled by. I don’t know whether I would have fully appreciated them if I had not experienced the heartbreak and destruction of my relationship. It’s sometimes hard to see the positive in amongst the wreckage, but if you look -it is always there.
Once again, let me risk sounding like a scratched record and say how very much I appreciate your friendship Greg. The love I have been given from this site and its writers and readers has helped heal my heart like some kind of magic band aid.
Zara: Right back ‘atcha. : )
Gulp, I hope I make the cut!
I meant that to Greg and his upcoming Pluto madness.
That could be another of our TV shows…The Pluto Cut. That can be the game show Zara’s been asking for.
Oh ‘The Pluto Cut’!
I love it! What a great idea for a show.
It can feature the TNB Bowie tribute band ‘Pussy Stardust.’
Ha!!! Of course you will make the cut! It’s only the BAD things that don’t make the cut, and you my darling are goodness personified!
Aw, Zara, I just love this ending. I, too, have found myself this year. I was right there with you at the breakup point (why were so many of us destined for breakup last December) and I’m so glad to see this post here now. I’ve been thinking a lot about my own breakup recently (thanks to it happening on my birthday/christmas eve). One of the worst parts of the breakup is losing the other people you loved in connection with that person. It’s really the worst, in my opinion.
Anyway, I’m so glad that you’re stronger. And, even thought I find myself wanting to say “I wish I’d never met him,” I know it’s not the truth. If it hadn’t been for the heartbreak he caused me, I wouldn’t have found myself in the aftermath. I’ve never had to do that before and even though it hurt, I’m grateful for it now.
My best to you in future love affairs. Mwah!
I was thinking about you when I wrote this, wondering how you were feeling now! It is a horrible thing to lose all that was connected with that person, I agree.
You are probably right in that it does no good wishing you had never met that person. I guess I should rephrase and say I wish it hadn’t gone to shit and that we could have salvaged some of the good stuff. But it’s so hard to do. I wish it were easier. I am grateful for the things he brought into my life, like his daughter, but it makes it so much harder when you have to let it all go.
And you know that I wish you every success in future love affairs too! A big mwah back at you lovely girl. xx
I’ve only “known” you for a short time, Zara, but of course I concur with everyone else here who’ve known you for much longer. You are a wonderful person who has a whole wonderful life in front of her, even if in the past year it may not always have seemed like it. I’m not a fan of trite phrases and thoughts, but time does provide a chance to heal and a clearer perspective.
Maybe sometime down the road you might even see things about him differently? Even though it hurts to lose that love, are the ten years really lost? Surely you must have shared many happy times and memories that have enriched your life, even if now you have turned the page and moved on?
Feel free to delete my comment and slap me across the Intertubes if you disagree.
Richrob,
I would never slap you across the intertubes!
What you say is very wise and I hope that one day I will feel that way. At the moment I am still too hurt to see things reasonably I guess, but I would like to think that that will change. Yes, we did share happy times and he brought many things that did enrich my life but at the end of it it’s hard not to focus on the shit!
It’s better to have loved and lost than never have loved at all. Or so they say. Whoever ‘they’ are. But ‘they’re’ probably right. As are you.
I thank you for giving me some perspective. It helps!
The art of losing isn’t hard to master, eh? Not quite. Oh, Zara. What a year. I wish you the absolute best imaginable year of self-discovery, magic, love and art in 2010.
Thank you Mary. I wish I had mastered it a little better, but practice makes perfect. One day I will reach a Zen-like state of acceptance!
I wish you a year of good dentistry and lots of love in 2010!
We should all make little bonfires on New Year’s eve and burn all that was 2009, and then dance in its ashes.
I wish there was something anyone could say to make any of the pain lessen. I only know you through reading your posts over the last year or so, but you seem like such a genuinely sweet and nice and wonderful person that I wish you never had to feel any of that horribleness (which I’m pretty sure isn’t a word, but will have to suffice).
Good luck for a wonderful 2010.
John, thank you so much for your lovely words. They mean a lot and believe me, they go a long way to help lessen the pain. Thank you!
Oh, Zara. How can I go away from TNB for a few days and come “home” to something like this? I wish I could just wrap my arms around you. I know what a big and giving heart you have, and the immense gifts this man’s daughter must have gained from having you in her life for those years. I know how much you must have loved her and given her everything inside you as though she was your own girl. It is heartbreaking not only that you have lost each other, but that so many girls grow up with fathers who don’t know how to truly love and value women, and, as you say here, only see us as the source of applause. I fear this poor girl, who may not even realize yet in her child’s heart how much you gave her and how much she misses you, will probably grow up thinking it is always on her to clap for a man, with a chain of broken (not by herself but by her father) bonds in her wake with all the strong, loving women who tried to nurture her, but whom her father kept wrenching from her grasp with his own selfishness. I hope for her that she will someday grow up to be as strong and beautiful and kind and lucid as you are, and will not believe her only means of survival is to become selfish and narcissistic like the man who raised her. I hope, too, that age and years will bring this man some kind of awakening and wisdom–not (god forbid!) so that you and he could reunite, but so that he will learn how to give and receive real love before it’s too late.
Girl, it goes without saying that it is not and will never be too late for you. As you say here, and as everyone at TNB already knows, everything you need is already inside you and you are already more than whole.
You are one of the most honest writers on this site, and that is saying a great deal, because there is a lot of honesty and Truth telling here. Your willingness to be vulnerable and open and truthful is humbling and riveting and incredibly beautiful.
Gina,
You are amazing.
I have said it before, but you are such an inspiration to me. You make it easy to be brave and strong and truthful and I am so grateful for your support.
I too, hope he finds what it is he is looking for and can open himself up to love, true love, for even though he has faults (just as I do - in spades) I hope he can find the kind of love that makes him content and happy and enriched.
I will always be grateful to him for allowing me to forge a relationship with his daughter as that was something I cherished and will always do so.
Oh life. It leads us on such a merry dance sometimes. I wonder at it and marvel at it even though it sometimes hurts.
Thank you for being such a wonderful support.
I love the picture, by the way! Been meaning to tell you since you changed it! You look just gorgeous, and so fresh and happy.
To 2010 and all its new beginnings!
Oh, Zara. I relate with this in a strange way. And mostly I understand what it is like to come back to yourself after being torn down. Hard one to write, I bet - but you couldn’t have written it were you not already on the other side. Bravo. *I* think you’re amazing, for whatever that’s worth.
It’s worth a lot, Erika. Thank you x
Zara,
This is a sumptuous piece– written in a way that recalls classicism– like an old Corvette driven by a suit of armor. Lovely, brave work that transcends the confessional and arouses our empathy. Rock the New Zealand version of the Casbah…
What a great comment, Matthew. An old corvette driven by a suit of armour. I Love that.
Thank you so much. And speaking of sumptious - I look forward to your next post. They’re always a treat.
Zara, I fell for a man who sounds rather similar to your one. Disasters for the heart, aren’t they? I don’t know you, but, even still, I do know this - you are far too good for him and all his shenanigans. I bet you one day you will walk down the street with the love of your life on your arm, and run in to this other man. No doubt he’ll still be alone. You certainly deserve better - best of lucky for a spectacularly happy 2010.
And I meant best of luck
Best of lucky sounds great!
I’m so glad to see you here -I was hoping to see your name!
I’m sorry that you too, had to experience a broken heart. It’s not much fun.
I thank you for your good wishes and your kind words. Your comments mean a lot to me, thank you so much.
You are enough, Zara. More than enough in fact. You are beautiful and perfect and, goodness, you’re incredibly talented.
I wish I had some sage advice to give. Words of wisdom. But I haven’t kissed a boy in over five years and am quite lost. But I do know this: you deserve so much more.
Marni, you sweetheart.
Those stupid boys don’t know what they’re missing. They should be so lucky to get to kiss you.
Thank you for your words. You are so kind and you know how I adore your writing, so your comments mean so much to me..
Zara!! I read your piece and tears welled. I can feel your raw pain and identify with it from long ago, when my heart was broken, more than once.
I went into the garden to pick some raspberries and thought about you a lot. (There were heaps and my arms are so scratched) I agree, 2010 has to be a better year for you. You will be stronger and wiser. Maybe you can call in and share some berries with us when you are here in Chch
You are precious and are so so so good enough.
Darling Ruth
Thank you so much for reading and commenting. I am a lucky girl to have such wonderful family members as you.
I would LOVE to call in and share some raspberries and maybe some Peonie tips too..
Much much love to you xxx
Oh Zara. I’m so sorry and yet confident that because you were able to put this into words you are on your way to healing. You laid your heart on the page and it was if we could all scoop it up and care for it as we read. And empathize, because who among us can’t relate in some way? Your wonderful, open nature will get you through this. xo
Rachel,
Thank you so much for your comment. You have no idea how much strength I get from this site and from comments like yours. It makes me feel so much alone and I can’t tell you how good that feels. I look forward to meeting you when I’m next in L.A! xx
This is so powerful Zara. Every word so precise… so RIGHT. I’m so sorry about your loss, but so pleased for your gain. I only know you through your pieces here, and I was moved to tears.
You rock!
Dana,
Bless you! YOU rock!
As I said to Rachel above - I derive so much strength from comments like yours and I am so lucky to be part of a community of such good people. Thank you so much!
I am new here & I don’t really know how I stumbled across your piece…but I’m glad that I have.
Never has anyone so completely been able to describe, in words, how I feel. I have struggled for some time to utter one single thing that resembles anything other than an inhuman wailing…I didn’t believe I would ever find the words.
I don’t know you, but I am glad that you wrote this, because even though I once had the ability to write (not quite like you…actually, nothing near as wonderful and insightful as you), I have somehow lost my voice.
Thank you for being my voice. I hope one day for my own to return.
Please allow me to chime in along with your friends, and wish you a really spectacular 2010!
Hi Toni,
May I say how glad I am that you came by this piece. I am so humbled by your words and I thank you for expressing them so well.
I am sorry that you have found yourself without a voice, I thought I had lost mine, but it’s slowly returning - as yours will too.
I send you lots of love and good wishes and I hope to read your words one day soon too!
Thank you again.. xx
And by the way, Zara, you are far, far more beautiful than your rival. In every single way.
Paula x
Paula, you are amazing. xxx