1/4 Yesterday @ChildlessWeek was Comments that hurt, based around lockdown experiences.
I contributed a piece entitled Resonance and yesterday resonance struck. I just stopped, there was tears, well more like a 20 minute sob for the accumulation of grief,
2/4 of feelings of shame and of loneliness. I just felt disconnected and had had enough of lockdown. Great timing as we enter a local lockdown...
In the end I wrote and played new songs on my guitar. It helped, as did chips at the seaside.
3/4 Alongside me the whole time was my brilliant wife and our snoozing paws.
These are difficult times for us all, I had forgotten that in a haze of work and exercise, as if everything was normal, as if everything has ever been normal. Take care all.
"A moment of calm, the evening light casting no shadows, just an illusion all is ok."
Elsewhere I wrote the above. As we walked and talked, the pebbles crunching and shifting under our feet, I lifted off a mask, my fear I'll never run a marathon again,
2/ as I currently fatigue easily when I try doing more exercise - an effect not only of not being with my grief for many years and pushing on, but also from the virus, I am pretty sure I have had it.
As well as the sense of my actions not being enough, that all I am doing seems
3/ just a drop in the ocean when there is a government hell bent on only protecting their interests and not supporting a thriving society. It reminded me so much of when we were trying, all I did, all we did, and only heartbreak followed. It was never enough.
1/ "On his hands and knees he waits. He imagines soft voices and smiles. The slam of a car boot startles him; his eyes burst open, wide, light pours in, his body assesses for signs of an attack. The gate swings open, four small wheels roll along the path; a deafening war cry."
2/ It is @ChildlessWeek in September & I have contributed to it over the past couple of years. By sharing my experiences I have found connection, I have been heard & found a sense of belonging. The process of creating stories & art, has been helpful in my healing & acceptance.
3/ I recommend submitting your experiences, they can be anonymous - the more our voices are heard, the less invisible we become, not only to others, but also ourselves.
The above is an extract from Dancing under rainbows - the agony of not being able to have a child,
Arnside Knott is a local hill, a place we have walked together, with friends, with family. I place I have run alone, and with friends. It is layered in memories of my, of our, childlessness journey and grief. It is part of the way of the dead.
2/ It is where we walked one Catmas day. It is where we have mourned. It is where I have exhausted myself running. Running away from my grief, running to process it and running to remember our lost children. Last week we returned and took a different route,
3/ following our curiosity we stumbled upon a deer at the top, and a walled garden on our return. I didn't feel haunted by my past and removed. I felt connected to my wife, to us, and the beautiful nature around us. It is a new step with my acceptance of a childless life.
1/4 I am aware I have been away from here for a lot of this year, the ongoing pandemic certainly took me elsewhere. That elsewhere strongly resonated with my childless grief, the isolation, the disconnection, the loss, the high alert.
2/4 During the grief often it was all I could do to just function and get through the days. During the pandemic, on the whole, I have been able to recognise and be with my feelings and do things that helped me.
3/4 Which mostly involved being in nature, paying closer attention to my local area, noticing the wildflowers, the insects, the birds especially their songs. Over the next few weeks I will share some of the photos I have taken and any thoughts and feelings that resonate.
Somedays it is beautiful, days full of exploration, of curiosity. The sun is out and it warms my battered heart, offering hope of healing, of a life that will be just as alive as if we had kids.
2/6 On other-days I plunge into an internal void, where my childless sadness grapple-hooks past tortures. Even so the sun is out, it just burns my skin, as I forget to care for myself. For I repeat past stories that scream I am not worth it.
3/6 More often than not, somedays and other-days are the same-day. As I reflect on my yesterdays I find myself wanting to tell myself new stories. Stories based in now, not conjured from the tricks of the past. In this moment I matter,