"The problem is that you are so weak," he spits at me.
Except he doesn't spit. The words are deemed undeserving of accompaniment.
They are served up dry, like little bundles of kindling.
For starting fires.
I want to argue. I want to agree.
Spineless. Toothless. Everything less.
Less than less.
A negative.
A cipher.
A void where a woman once stood.
The inverse of muscles and bone and brain.
Passion and thought in reverse.
Inwards and inwards.
Coiling back into myself.
Away from tinder and flint and spark.
Uncertain as to whether I have always been like this or if I became this way by increments.
If I have been this way since birth.
Or if it was her death that loosened my joints and slumped my shoulders.
But she isn't to be bandied about as an excuse.
And so I simply sit. Devoid of agreement or argument.
Hands open. Weakly.
I see strength in simply sitting. Devoid of agreement when it is not agreeable or argument when it is not worth your energy.
ReplyDeleteHands open. Peacefully.
Thank you Mama Bear. I had not really looked at it that way before.
DeleteA comment like that now would make me hands open, face buried in them crying, a comment like that before would have made my old spunky self hands open and back hand the person who spit it out....its just not the same, but im ok with that, we are still standing...hugs xoxoxo
ReplyDeleteOh Nan. You're right. We are still standing We're not the same but that isn't necessarily something to feel bad about. I'm ok with it too x
DeleteOh, God, Catherine, this place. You capture it. I had a lump in my throat and felt shaky too. I get this. I do. Love to you.
ReplyDeleteSorry that you know this place too Angie. Love to you xo
DeleteIt makes me angry someone said that to you, Catherine. Even if you yourself sometimes feel as if your strength is ebbing, to call someone weak is extremely unkind. Cruel even. And to say that to someone is just not useful, but rather a way to posture, to tell themselves that they are "better than." I have to wonder why the need to feel "better than" is there.
ReplyDeleteAnd you know, every single one of us has times when we need to be propped up, supported, maybe even carried, by other people. Then, there are times when we gather the strength to do this for others. I know you do. It also takes a lot of strength to go on without our babies. How can our shoulders not be a bit slumped? This is such a heavy weight to bear.
But bear it we do. How dare someone criticize how we do it? Our children will never be an excuse. But they are our reason, just like living children would be or are. Our babies lived, they died, we are deeply affected. That's the way it is for us, and if someone thinks we are using the deaths of our babies as an excuse for anything, well, they can go to hell. Meanwhile, I am doing my best to survive every day, as are you, as is everyone here.
It hurts my heart that you are not being appreciated for the wonderful person you are, and I want to give a what's what to whoever is being mean to you. I wish I could invite you over for tea and talk. Instead, I'm sending you so much love through the ether. xo
Wish I could conjure you here to the UK for a cup of tea too.
DeleteI can see this person's point of view. I truly can. But you're right. Sometimes I am weak but at other times, I hope, that I'm strong. That I am helping someone else stand upright for a bit?
WHO said this to you? That makes me beyond angry...
ReplyDeleteWhat some people don't realize is that it takes STRENGTH sometimes to actually be "weak;" to let that vulnerability be known/seen. And if someone sees it, they should STFU and just...simply sit
Cava
Family. Who else? Sigh. Here's to simply sitting. Underrated.
DeleteThis
ReplyDeletemakes
no sense
to me.
*****
All I see, when I see
Catherine W ~
is strength
of compassion, by which hearts warm themselves, in plenty
of tenacity, which did not and has not quit
{even pierced-through, and bleeding}
of mind, perceiving what hides
of word, drawing truth to sight
of heart, loving
so deep a love
which will not
would not
could not
~ never ~
ever let go.
*****
If you are weak, I want to learn it, better and better.
Cathy in Missouri
P.S. Last weekend I saw a rattlesnake, fat and baleful - spiraled, angry - behind a slim glass. That noise his tail made [no words tell it, fully] is what I feel. Someone dares talk this way to you...
Cathy, you always see the best, you are so kind.
DeleteI like your description of the snake. If I could have rattled during this argument, I would have.
For me, this conversation sounded like
ReplyDeleteme: I'm not strong enough for you.
him: You're not strong enough for yourself.
But when you write about it, I can see the beauty and grace, and the subtleties that you can touch only in this place. Soft belly exposed.
It's interesting isn't it? What people say and what they actually mean and the discrepancies between the two? There is something about writing that lets the soft places see the light, I agree x
DeleteOh Cath, it is amazing how hurtful words can be. I really, really hope you don't believe that you are weak.
ReplyDeleteI do and I don't. Not as strong as I would like to be but stronger than I thought I was? And weak and strong as in the eye of the beholder anyway I suppose.
DeleteI keep coming back to this post. As Angie says, your words take me right to that place, beautifully and terribly. In my better moments, I think that feeling weak, and *being* weak are different things, but very easy to confuse. Perhaps especially when we're tired. And laid open. And healing. And pouring so much into taking care of others. And having to be responsible adults.
ReplyDeleteSending love.
Hmm, yes. Feeling and being are two different things and I think that I do tend to get them confused. Probably as tend to find my feelings utterly overwhelming! And tired. I'm very tired and trying very hard to fulfil the role of responsible adult, one that I am ill-suited to!
DeleteSuch beautiful comments on a beautiful post.
ReplyDeleteI'm with brianna, I hope you don't really think you're weak. You're just not.
Thank you B. I can see both sides of this argument. I think what upset me most is that this person obviously has not the slightest idea of what I am all about. Sigh.
DeleteAnyone who can wake up every day after their child has died and make an effort to find peace and answers and a nook somewhere in this world to just be okay, is strong.
ReplyDeleteand whoever said that to you must not get how strong you really are.
In fact, to me it sounds like that person is angry, anger coming from hurt, the most selfish kind or anger and pain to try to say something so nasty.
it nasty, cutting, ignorant..... it's exhausting words. meant to inflict pain. for what reason?
Our esteem is shot when we lost T.
it changes everything.
and we became a little more forgiving of sure nastiness (i think) because we don't want to lose any more then we already have.
My Jeff does that. Something unspeakable hurtful will happen and he just needs everything to be okay because everything has been so NOT okay since July. So he'll just sit there in neutral.
You are strong.
and anyone who tells you otherwise is a jackass.
Laura, you're so right. It changes everything. I understand that instinct, when you've already lost so much, to want to keep what you have. I wish I could be more like your Jeff and just sit in neutral when hurtful things happen.
DeleteCatherine, I'm sorry that someone said this to you. I've seen towering strength in you. Sometimes people suck, don't they? Sending heaps of love across the ocean to you.
ReplyDeleteThank you Monique. It does sting, perhaps because the truth hurts? I don't know. Love right back at you xo
DeleteBeautiful prose here Catherine.
ReplyDeleteWhat a shit thing to say, especially from someone who (I assume) has no idea what it's like to lose a baby, to lose a vital piece of your future. What people don't realize is that not killing yourself is sort of the baseline for strength... not giving up all hope and cutting yourself from the world is another baseline. So the fact that we all get out of bed every day and walk into work and venture into conversations and tackle the grief...now that is what I think of as strength.
Even so, I get this post. I get your feeling of confusion. Have I always been like this or did it happen in increments? Beautiful.
I'm babbling here, but I wanted to say that you are loved and that I find strength from you, from your writing, from the beautiful way you navigate life without Georgina.
Peace and love,
Josh
Thank you Josh. You, M, K and S are on my mind so much lately and I hope these coming weeks pass peacefully for you and your family.
DeleteIt hurts. Lots of hurtful things were said during this argument but the accusation of weakness stung the most. Perhaps because it is too close to the truth? I don't know.
I do find it hard to remember the person I was before Georgina died, to put who I am now into any kind of context. Perhaps other people simply remember better?
This person does not know you at all. You are many wonderful and amazing things Catherine and weak is no where I can see. It takes strength to tackle our emotions and to tease through our pain, to process and deal with it. To sit with it. That is not weakness. xx
ReplyDeleteThank you Sophie. I miss you. I think of you and Jordan often, I love seeing your beautiful beads on fb. I'm glad you don't consider it weakness. I think it is just human and our society doesn't like to let us be what we are. Human. What a strange situation.
DeleteI guess my first instinct is to say that you aren't weak. But, of course you are. I'm weak too. We all are. Hence all of the neighborhoods and public utilities and machines to help us do our work. None of us can make it alone because we are weak. And no one should mistake humble (or, maybe, humbled) for weak. I can't really think of just the right words here but I hope you know that you have plenty of support here in the computer.
ReplyDeleteAh Tracy. We all are. I think that is what makes humans so interesting. That we all kind of pathetic and weak without infrastructure? Big brains bobbing around on weak, feeble bodies. Humbled? Yes. Or perhaps even just blindingly stupid prior to this and now, hopefully, slightly less so? Glad that you are in my computer. More than I can say.
DeleteI don't understand why to be grieving is to be weak. Are all less-than-savoury emotions weak? Hand on heart Catherine, you are not weak. I cannot imagine the strength it takes to look at little Jessica everyday and know that her twin is missing... and then to have gone on through another pregnancy...
ReplyDeleteI know you will have moments where you will feel weak, where you don't know where you can muster the strength from to carry on without Georgina, but you do it. You get up each day, do a damn good job of raising your living children, going to work, writing beautiful, thoughtful, comforting honest words, whilst all the time managing difficult people who just don't understand.
It might be a quiter, more stoic kind of strength, but not all those who shout loudly, point fingers, stamp feet and cast judgment are strong. I think a comment like that speaks volumes about the person saying it.
One of the strongest people I know. That is all. xo
ReplyDeleteArg - such a horrible accusation. I don't think it is true - I think TracyOC is right here - that we are all weak, which really makes you clear-sighted and with a better grip on reality than him.
ReplyDeleteSo late, I know. But the person with whom you were arguing sure stuck his little fingernail under the easiest crack to pick. It is easy to call someone weak. It is difficult to understand that strength doesn't need to scream and flail. Strength can hold her hands calmly and not lash out, and ever so gently say, "Excuse me, but might you want to go eff yourself?"
ReplyDeleteSending love to you, friend.
xo