I’m pretty bold when it comes to writing about my innermost thoughts here. But I draw the line at matters of terror of the spirit, and also when the ostensible cause of my suffering is another person who has a right to remain untalkedabout.
I have just enjoyed several months of deep satisfaction in the camaraderie of a long-term friend. Never for a minute did I take it for granted. It was a long time — several years — in growing, and an hour in ending. I am devastated, angry, resentful and in agony. I am also in retreat. Nothing to say to anyone. Been lying on my bed clutching the sleeping baby. She, Jason and Eleni are fun to have around, but they’ll be leaving soon. Some friends call to check in on me but I don’t want to talk. Others, I suspect, are afraid of my sucking neediness.
Quotes like this are well and good, but hardly convincing.
It is by going down into the abyss that we recover the treasures of life. Where you stumble, there lies your treasure. —Joseph Campbell
Depends on who you are. It could be your treasure or your grave. I don’t see any signposts. I just read about Joe Simpson’s abyss, which was neither his end or his beginning, but rather a lifelong, persistent nightmare.