We would rather be ruined than changed;
We would rather die in our dread
Than climb the cross of the moment
And let our illusions die.
~W.H. Auden
As I sit in the graveyard of my illusions, I am left with merging emotions, crashing upon each other, overlapping – sorrow and freedom, sadness and joy, feeling left out and being spared, all swaying within like ghosts.
Memories of happier times try to overpower awareness of reality’s raw experiences; a game of pretend almost arises, like an abused woman who refuses to see the man who beat her, by focusing on the good times.
Hope plans a future that isn’t to be, sorrow knowing you can never go home.
Being sprung free and yearning for the cage.
Celebrating while crying.
Unable to firmly grasp one without feeling the loss of the other.
It feels like I am dying while alive, grieving for my own self.
Having one foot in the grave of my old life, while learning to walk in my new.
The hardest part is to let me die, to be strong and keep killing the illusion, the dysfunctional relationships, letting them go on without me.
I wish I could say I am tough and this is easy to feel the sorrow and pain as another section of my life dies…and I am left in the space of empty.
The wise say that without change we would have no butterflies.
But the time between caterpillar and butterfly is you are neither, suspended in time…
You don’t fit with the caterpillars anymore, and you still have no wings to fly.
In a cocoon I live, one life not finished and new one not fully begun.
Suspended in soup of transition.
Crying for the caterpillar and cheering for the Butterfly!
I M Perfect lady 