Autumn

Posted on by impossiblebebong

“I have this strange feeling that I’m not myself anymore. It’s hard to put into words, but I guess it’s like I was fast asleep, and someone came, disassembled me, and hurriedly put me back together again. That sort of feeling…

Sometimes I feel so- I don’t know – lonely. The kind of helpless feeling when everything you’re used to has been ripped away. Like there’s no more gravity, and I’m left to drift in outer space with no idea where I’m going.”

– Haruki Murakami

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Published by impossiblebebong

Predictably Unpredictable. Fearlessly Authentic. Observing and absorbing life, collecting knowledge along the way, selecting what's best and keeping what is needed.

20 thoughts on “Autumn”

  1. “Oh, if we begin questioning everything… Let’s begin with lucid dreaming…”

    Yes, let us begin with that … it has been said “we are only using around 10% of brain function”. So what is the rest for?

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    1. I think we can fill in the blank. My first post got deleted due to some technical problems (I heard I am not alone, been talking to people in the common who are experiencing the same) I don’t know what is happening in WordPress but since yesterday I have trouble posting.

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  3. I catch this feeling off and on, often retreating to my own cave. Hard feeling to shake but it dissipates

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    1. In my one year of blogging I’ve been nominated for various awards but yet to accept one. I appreciate the thoughts and gestures but have to admit I don’t believe in them and I find the procedure tedious. I am immensely grateful for the recognition and to the people who think I deserve such honor. Again, my deepest gratitude, thank you.

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      3. I like the awards for interaction but to nominate 10-15 people is difficult. I had to set some aside with the intent of getting to them later. They are time consuming. Now I list them in my footer, which hopefully will deter receiving the same award multiple times. I can see why some bloggers don’t want them.

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      4. It all comes down to personal preferences I guess. Some want it, some don’t, but I am sure everybody is touched and grateful receiving the nominations. And who wouldn’t? It is a living proof that people out there is reading you and appreciating the hard work you are putting in your blog. But the process… some are put off by them.

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  5. Being taken apart and reassembled, and you don’t know for sure, and it probably didn’t happen. But this feeling of dissimilitude persists, so where did it come from? The poet covers this much better, of course. But it’s a kind of attitude that happens and is so rarely covered. Good for the poet! And good for you for selecting this work! Thanks!

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      1. I wonder what the answer to that will be. Not that it’s all bad. As a stranger, you could turn around, inwardly speaking, and maybe as a kind of observer learn more about yourself, which might be helpful. When I feel anything like this, though, I find relating with others to be newly difficult. I mean, I’ll visit with friends and honestly have a surreal experience. I look forward to leaving, but then being my own company is not the best time, either. Lately, I’ve been trying to write my way through things and intentionally get out every now and then. But I’m writing about myself to avoid prying. Your experience is as unique as it is valuable.

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  6. You write clearly and powerfully about your life. (I’m responding now to what you wrote that I read through the link above.) Even if I couldn’t relate directly, how could I not be affected? As it is, I’ve had my own version of some of your challenges.

    My heart has failed me twice now in big ways. I have several cardiac conditions, any one of which tends to kill people. I’ll tell you one thing: I’ve learned to be pretty philosophic about mortality. That attitude helps me enjoy what there is to enjoy in each day.

    Because of trauma and the severity of treatments, I no longer have the recall I had. I met with a psychologist once who told me that I’m used to having an outstanding memory, and now it’s only going to be above-average. He saw that as a great change to deal with, and he’s right.

    My sister has had micro-strokes, and one of the consequences of those is that she has trouble remembering simple words. So listening in on a conversation between the two of us must be comic. I’m trying to tell her words like dog and microwave, and she’s reminding me about complicated twists in plots of books we’ve both read and then parts of scientific observation (she’s a scientist) that I used to know. But we’re still glad we’re here. I think we have a mortal impulse that is unrelenting.

    I have pain all the time, too. Usually, it’s manageable, though sometimes too many hurts pile on, and I have to withdraw somehow and somehow simply hurt until the hurt lessens. I hope for the unconsciousness of sleep.

    But our experiences are unique, and your experience has been fraught with barriers and injuries. I suppose as you share your story with others, a question must come back quite often, which is How do you cope? So many things happening to respond to and handle somehow all together. The strength in your writing would lead your readers (this reader) to hope that it’s matched by or expressive of your own inner strength that keeps you going. I do hope this is the case.

    But the fuzziness you feel, and the foreign-ness that makes in you. That is too hard, because it’s so difficult to feel–and how could you feel confident in making choices that will have things be better?

    I like the quotation by Lewis who also said that, after thirty pages, if a book doesn’t grab you, then put it aside. Now is not the time for it. Lewis always seems to express himself with clarity of thought. I could wish he might have written more when he was ill.

    Well, to say the least, I am thankful for the craft and authenticity in your sharing. Let’s keep on, keep working toward a better day.

    Thanks so much, Christopher

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    1. Your words mean a lot to me. It is not easy to find people who can really understand what we’re going through. And we cannot always explain our situation eloquently. You’re lucky you have a sister who shares your experience. I’m glad you talk to me. Your positiveness and strength are inspiring. I’m with you through the rest of the journey. Us, together with people in the same boat will continue supporting each other by motivating one another to cope and be strong. Thank you for being here.

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      1. You’re welcome. And Thank you. Because you’re right–when life is hard, it needs to be shared. The joys, too, when they happen. You’re also right about my having a sister. We’re two of five, and I think our rapport is the more reliable, maybe because we let ourselves share the difficult times with the good. I’m glad you feel supported. I can relate. And I will be here. And we’ll stay strong.

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