“I feel like I’m floating in limbo…”
What’s happening in your world these days, I wonder? Are you reading any of these? Somehow, I don’t think so – I think the door to what we had is firmly shut in your world, waiting to be re-opened at a later stage when you’re in a stronger place perhaps. I still can’t accept that I will never find out what happened to you. Will I ever? Who knows. But right now, although the pain of loss is pretty much gone, there is a dull ache there. There’s a gap where understanding and real closure should be, and a doubt that I will ever reach that depth with anyone else.
Life has become a little subdued in recent weeks, after all the mad weirdness and agony of the previous months. I’ve had another two sessions with my lovely shaman, but at the last one she told me that there was nothing further she could do for me – that her guides had told her I have to do it for myself. So that was the end of that, other than suggesting I read a book called the Artist’s Way and call her if I get stuck. I can’t say the idea of the book has any appeal, so I haven’t bothered looking for it yet. I wonder how soon I can ring her to say I’m stuck!
I’ve given up the Naturopathy course I was doing too, when it clashed with one of Cian’s energy workshops, and now that the workshops have finished for the moment, I feel like I’m floating in limbo. Cian will be starting a year long training course in the autumn, but that’s months away and, to be honest, I’m not getting a huge sense that I want to do it anyway. It feels as if there’s something else out there that I should be doing, though I’ve no idea what that might be.
To make matters worse, I’ve been trying to book a holiday – just a week away somewhere quiet in the Scottish islands where I can really be on my own, away from the city, work and my family responsibilities. And do you think that’s coming together for me either? Every time I find a cottage that’s perfect, it’s either completely booked up right through the summer or it’s too expensive.
Limbo, a gap – yes, they’re perfect descriptions of how it feels right now. I know it’s probably part of an old pattern I’m needing to break, having to be in control all the time, always needing to know what’s going to happen next so that I can plan for it and be prepared. It’s not that I don’t like surprises. It’s more that it’s really hard to live a life where you don’t know what’s going to happen next. And especially when you’re trying to pull yourself together emotionally. Having something to look forward to is such an important part of being able to move on and, right now, I don’t know what the future holds, other than a repeat of the same, mundane, things that it offers right now.
God, that sounds so ungrateful! I have a wonderful, healthy, daughter and a regular job that challenges me and provides me with the company of some good people. But there’s something missing – something which seemed to have been temporarily filled by your love and also by the more recent discoveries of a deeper reality.
As I’m writing, I’m remembering recently reading a piece by Jung on what he called the transcendent function, which emerges when the ego is able to hold the tension between two conflicting choices. I don’t think he was talking about a situation like this, although I do feel an inner pressure to make a decision of some kind just so that it has been made. Maybe if I can hold the gap – find some way of tolerating the sense of limbo rather than rushing to fill it with one of the existing options – that another, unexpected, option which I haven’t yet seen will open up for me.
Now I’m starting to feel better. Much better, actually! I guess that’s what I need to do. Mark, I think maybe that’s why I still write to you – it helps to clear my head. It wouldn’t work half so well with a diary, though. There’s something about thinking you’re at the other end that allows my energy to flow more freely in these words than they would if I thought they were just ending up in a dead-end.
Hey, isn’t that something you’ve always done for me? Remember just after we first met, all those years ago, and I had to return home? Remember how long our letters were – twenty, even thirty, pages? And they were full of everything that we felt, dreamed and experienced. An English Professor friend of my parents at the time saw me scribbling away at a letter one day, around the time I was trying to choose my subjects for University, and he suggested I take English. I did take it, too. Although I was deeply disillusioned by it. All we did was learn to criticize other people’s writing rather than doing our own creative writing. In fact, it completely put me off ever wanting to be a writer, which was the reverse of what he had intended, I’m sure. It hasn’t stopped me writing for myself, though. Maybe you wish it had (I’m laughing now).
How on earth did I end up on that little detour? It still fascinates me how a few short months that happened decades ago has continued to shape our lives so far into the future. Life is so strange. How many years did I spend with people in school, whose names I have long forgotten? How many other, casual, friends have I made on holidays over the years? And yet two short months of knowing you has caused a ripple through my life that still hasn’t run its course.
And on that philosophical note, I’ll say goodbye and return to floating in my limbo world of not knowing where I’m going next…
(The Blog Novel of the Letters unfolds here regularly. If you’d like to be alerted as they are published, please just ‘follow’ my blog)