Isolation

Tuesday, 26. February 2013

Heartbreak is nothing; pain is nothing; loss is nothing. What really hurts is exclusion and humiliation. I said that and I stand by it, for ever, against all comers, including people who don’t like me and the way I talk. Anything that cannot be shared is far worse than anything that can be shared. Anyone who is so alone that they cannot even speak of what torments them is in unimaginable pain compared with those who can drone on about how much it hurts, how noble is their suffering, how unjust their predicament and how magnificent their recovery…

3 Responses to “Isolation”



  1. ktln Says:

    Something very sad is here, undeclared. Grace under pressure is noble. Kicking the cat less so. Suffering is a fact, neither noble nor ignoble, but it can feel infra-dig, until it’s too bad, and when it is, the shame, if there is any, probably attaches elsewhere, because help did not come on time. To live with something that torments, but which one feels cannot be spoken of, is I imagine, a circle of hell that someone might inhabit, who might have done wrong, or think they have, but who are good, or they would not care. Or that someone who’s been wronged might live in, not wanting to wear the victim’s badge, knowing restitution was not possible.
    I know a lady who kicks the cat every day, said cat being her husband who loves her and who is in his late seventies. She kicks him because though she talks and talks to close friends about it, she did not, would not give her father a piece of her mind while he was alive for the sexual predator he had been in her early teens. Nor did ever she rip a strip off her chicken mother for having failed to protect her. No, the father used to come to her house till he died, never a peep said – to his face. Never a peep said by him, to ask forgiveness. Talk about elephants in the room. Her husband used to itch to give the old goat a thump and kick him out of the house. No! He was not allowed. He had to mind his ps and qs, and carry on living with the fall-out. No stamping on the grave now it’s safe, even. Perhaps she feels she needs that badge, perhaps she can’t face the vacuum it would leave if she threw it away.
    I’ve known of other situations where timely words or just the ‘right’ words have cut a Gordion knot, and the suffering one felt able to allow it. My brother was telling me lately about a police padre he says is a wonderful man. This gentle grey padre doesn’t talk about God, apparently, he tells rude jokes, or no-one would go near him, but he has heard such things in his time, that he can hear anything, and he is trusted implicity, that it would never become a question of his own reactions.



  2. RealSteveHolmes Says:

    You really are a poet, KT.



  3. ktln Says:

    It takes one to think so.

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