Sacrifice

Suddenly I find myself in the most Goth of Gothic tales. 

A theory that fits, yet doesn't resolve. The idea that failure to grieve can leave the bereaved compelled to....

Reanimated the dead. 

To this end, sacrifice your life, sacrifice who and what you are. Descending into total unconsciousness become the dead. 

Wow... Where do I fit in here?

I am part of the sacrifice, or rather I'm supposed be. Yet I refuse to run, I refused to be shocked into oblivion. Instead I loved and cried and would not say goodbye.. 

Where do I fit in?

Staying out of this katabasis makes sense. It feels like possession, and there is no sanity. 

Doing what I'm doing, responding with love and kindness, and as if none of the bad stuff counts is the path of integrity, for me anyway. 

Meanwhile this really is the best opportunity I've ever had to finally get to grips with the pain. That pain of abandonment that is always lurking in my shadow, the pain other people eventually embody for me. My grief is real and vital, but the ancient pain is something else. Always with me. 

Time to find a way to release it. It starts with getting to know it... The rucksack full of rubble from broken, bombed out homes that bruises and grazes my shoulders, and the demon with teeth and claws like needles that twists and turns, eating my guts. Burning like the sun, and tearing into my spine paralyzing me.

Time to get to know agony, and let you go.