The Sunday Scribbling prompt this week was “disconnected”
I have thought a lot about how tragedy disconnects us from everyone.
Even though we may move through the world and there may be lots of people around, we are still set apart. We move through the day, doing the routine necessary things and it looks on the outside like we are still a part of the living, but we are not. We are just moving. We put one foot in front of the other. We answer questions. We put food in our mouths and chew and swallow. We smile and nod politely. We get up in the morning and we lay down to go to sleep at night. We can even function at work.
But inside we are disconnected from those around us. Even the ones who love us are on the outside. We are trapped in a mind-numbing, heart shut down, don’t think, can’t cry any more, it doesn’t do any good anyway, get over it already – can’t – won’t, scared, will I ever be human again, prison. No parole, no early release, and we didn’t even do the crime. We still have to do the time. We are disconnected as we grieve and each of us moves through it at our own pace. Sometimes we connect for a bit and then it hits again and we remember the walls around us. Little things happen or are said and they peel a layer of skin off and the pain comes back fresh and sharp.
The journey back is slow and we have to do it alone until we have healed enough to be able to stand the re-connection without it choking, slicing, aching, burning us to charred bits. We curl into ourselves with the pain and slowly we find ways to come back.
When we are on the outside we can only do what we can do, what we are allowed to do. We can watch, love, pray, give, hug, worry. We can’t walk the path for them. We can’t connect for them. We can’t shorten the trip one single step.
We can only let them know that we love them and that we are there and that we will not disappear and be ready when they can start to connect again.
Very well said.
I’ll second that.
I’ve gone through periods where I’ve felt disconnected like this. Know what helps, more than anything else? Being outside. Turning off the TV, getting offline. Being among trees and green and the possibility of sweet discovery around every bend in the trail and behind every pricker bush.
That’s just me. I know that. But if more of us did it, I do wonder how our world would change…
i am trying desperately to come out of a period of disconnectedness.. i am glad you made your way to my blog so i could find you here,,,
Jeeves – thanks!
Paige – as always, thank you!
Susan – I agree, you have to keep moving!
Paisley – sending a hug. I hope you find your way but give yourself a break too. It seems like we would treat someone we have just met who is in pain with more compassion and understanding than we will give ourselves. I’m glad we have found each others’ blogs too 🙂
Your post rings true to me. I have been on both sides.
Time is the great gift with mourning. Time and being with what is.
Every word is so true. This is a great website. I like that each article is short and the connections with education are ones I share. I enjoyed reading and stayed through several of the posts.
Incidentally I had to smile when I saw 2cents Worth and The Thinking Stick on your blog roll. Jeff Utech was a computer consultant in my son’s (Sense on Common Sense) school in Shanghai and is now in Bangkok. He is a family friend. It is indeed a small world.
Come back again soon.
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Such truth here. Well said!
You got it down perfectly, what grieving’s like, the process. And you got down just as perfectly something anyone on the outside needs to know, that support’s all you can give for as long as it takes.