Reading this on another site gave me pause as late at night in the dark when trying to sleep a great sorrow descends, and I feel like an empty cave. Years were lost between me and my little brother.
We had a disagreement that caused a rift, the sorrow reawakened as we begin to tentatively get to know each other again. The same sorrow felt when the rift first happened, a sorrow so deep it felt like an open bleeding wound.
“It hurts so bad,” I said to my therapist at the time.
“Don’t feel it,” he said.
I pay for this? His advice did not take away the pain. And that same pain revisits. It was easier when not trying to spend time with Stevie again, the door kept shut. But is that living? Not loving because it hurts too much?
And my harsh self kicks my butt over and over for allowing a rift in the first place. Maybe it’s time to let go of what could have been, and be here now with what is. Not to disavow a feeling, just not allow it to consume me.
That hollow sorrow remains for many reason, not all having to do with blaming myself. There was no way at that time to do better. Just living took everything in me, not much left for the nuances of close relationships.
And that is still true. Though effort is put forth to understand others, understanding my own feelings and actions takes time alone and is confusing enough. The sorrow running so deeply in me has to do with what was lost, gone forever.
Perhaps it is simply that we each must struggle on our paths alone, with help sometimes, but every road is singular, and figured out by the one walking it.