7am Friday morning Los Angeles. It’s time to come clean.
This week last year was the last I would spend with my Darling Big Dog who is now buried in Malibu.
I miss her so much.
The occasions when I just breakdown and cry for her are fewer nowadays but it still happens.
If it weren’t for the little dog I don’t know how I would have survived the darker days this year, the dread comes upon me but I have to get up and go on because his needs come first. He is a little dog, he comes from a damaged place and I made a promise to him..
The dread.
There is, I hear, something quite magical about drowning. There is a euphoric moment just before death that could make a long swim quite an attractive prospect.
Up and down, up and down. The trip home will, I know, keep me balanced and sane. So much to do and see. Spoke to my travelling companion last night. He seems well and happy.
Yesterday I woke at dawn and filled my time until I could legitimately start the day. The little dog sleeps as I potter around in my bathrobe and read the news. I am going to climb Runyon this morning.
Over in Malibu I saw another huge snake in the garden but it was hot and angry so I didn’t fetch my shovel. Anyway, I still feel guilty for killing the last one. So may people asked why I didn’t keep the meat and eat it.
The problem with changing your life so completely is that you are left with a huge hole where your life once was. Sex Addiction meetings are not enough to keep me happy or secure or in touch. Gratitude lists look paltry when written down. Even meeting up with my friend and mentor can’t seem to shift the immense longing I have in my heart that periodically casts such a deep shadow over me.
My happiness eclipsed I look to the usual suspects to shine light into the darkness. Sadly their batteries are dead.
Listening to loud and uplifting music can go some way to making life better. My choices may seem suspect, Elton et al. I can’t listen to Joni, her obsession with lost love merely plays into the pessimistic thoughts I am already prone to when the sun stops shining.
Dentist yesterday. The dentist gave me a lecture about flossing and I lectured her about the perils of white flour/sugar/rice etc. I don’t think any kind of doctor here likes being told anything because they are so used to dispensing advice and usually remain unchallenged. She tried to scare me with apocalyptic visions of the bone around my teeth falling away that can only be solved, she said, by spending thousands of dollars and endless hours in the dentist’s office.
I think I will ignore her advice and see my lovely dentist in Sydney when I am there this winter. Oh yes, I am going to Sydney this winter. I decided this morning.
After seeing Sebastian this week I thought a great deal about my father. Dead, maligned, reviled..much like I expect I will be.
Another Sebastian to think about, my friend Sebastian Horsley who has finally become the glittering star he always wanted to be. I knew it. In death he has become the man they wanted him to be. Death becomes him. In death we can acknowledge the fantasy of who he was rather than the stinking reality, the crazed drug addict. I will remember him for twenty-seven years from Edinburgh to London. I will remember him struggling to stay clean, vulnerable, and helpful to other heroin addicts. How can I forget?
I stopped in on Andrew yesterday. He had a square, roughly glazed vase of white hydrangea mixed with other tiny, yellow flowers. The mere act of filling the house with flowers lifts the spirits. They have hung huge photographs and his found chair collection grows weekly. I fell asleep on the sofa and when I woke up he was gone. When did I stop appreciating these tiny gestures of good will? When did I stop buying flowers? How did my house get so full of other stuff? That’s why I like going to the Malibu because I have stripped out all of the mess. I am left with an African seed pod on a porcelain plate.
When did I start forgetting that aesthetic? The aesthetic that Patrick taught me when I was Andrew’s age?
Meanwhile I am dealing with the birth of a monster. One I can scarcely contain. One I have done my level best to avoid for many years. The goblins hold a cracked mirror to your face and all you can see is the ugliness. Not the age, (because I am sure of my age) but how very ugly one is. My confidence stems from this: that when I look into the mirror I appreciate what I see and hope that others may see me just as I see myself.
OK, off to Runyon with the Little Dog. Time to go now. Time to get on with the day. Busy, busy, busy.
9 replies on “Eclipse”
She was beautiful and I am truly sorry she was taken away too early. I don’t know how you feel about it, but my cats seem like they have souls. They have distinct personalities and it’s hard to believe they don’t have souls. Perhaps The Big Dog is still with you, or reincarnated, or perhaps she’s in heaven. That’s probably little consolation, but that’s the best consolation I can offer besides telling you I’m sure once the anniversary is over the pain will feel less fresh.
Yes, please keep busy, and hopefully you can pass this time as quickly as possible. You’ll be happy again very soon.
All the very best to you,
Lisa
ohh D, grief will always be there, for humans or the 4 legged variety, losing anyone is painful and it doesnt stop hurting, because we miss them. have some faith in yourself , your homesick, your grieving a anniversary , and i think we see you as clearly as you see yourself
your one of a kind D, in the best possible way.
thought a wee bit more about what you wrote, and D, sobriety isnt a hole in your life, im pretty convinced addicts do not know how to live a regular life, it takes time and skills.
lots of time.lots of patience.its the survivor in us that made the choice, what we do with it is entirely up to us.
Totally agree, Holly. Blessings.
Look at that beautiful dog. You loved her well. She was incredibly lucky to have you.
Duncan,
I’m so sorry about your pain at the anniversary of Big Dog’s death and your continuing loss of her. I know that she and Lil Dog were given a gift when you took them into your life and that they, in return, blessed your life with an unconditional love that your heart so needed. I believe that Big Dog’s sweet soul is still around you and that in your darkest moments, if you try, you can feel her and know that through her and Lil Dog, Love and Light shine through to you to tell you that you can make it through and that you will thrive. That you are ALWAYS loved and that you will find the love you need to feel returned to you through a person.
The dread is what you experienced waiting helpless for the unthinkable again and again. When you were pre-verbal. Before you could put words to the horror. That’s why it’s so overwhelming. Then when any other life experience produces anxiety, it opens the dungeon door of the beast that lies in wait to add it’s crushing weight to anything else that’s pressing down on your soul and your psyche. It’s deeply embedded but it can be rooted out. It really CAN. You have words now. You’re AWARE. Keep telling it you KNOW what it is. Say it’s name. Like in the story of “Rumpelstiltskin” where naming the evil gave power to dismiss it. Tell it that you take back your power and see it DISSOLVE into smoke and shadow. Only fear gives it power. Don’t let it feed on your fear. You’re grown and SAFE and LOVED. BELIEVE IT.
I’m glad that you’re listening to any kind of uplifting music. Loud or not. As for Elton, for all the good that he’s done and all he’s contributed, I think that maybe he can be forgiven a few lapses in judgment.
And Sebastian Horsley, he WAS so much more than a drug addict. Unfortunately, at the end, maybe that’s all he could see in the mirror. His sins, his flaws. Addiction distorts the view of everything and everyone including yourself. Maybe now that he’s dead, people can be gracious and kind. They can forgive his sins and applaud his wit and charm and flamboyance. Maybe he can be kind to himself. Remember. Like you said… it IS a cracked mirror. Even a saint wouldn’t look good in a cracked mirror. Well… maybe a saint would look good. 😉
I keep thinking of Faust. Selling his soul for knowledge, power and luxury.
And the Marlowe version, where he’s dragged down to hell. And the Goethe version, where he’s saved by Love. Forgiven and redeemed. I think that the Marlowe version was true to it’s age, a very brutal and unforgiving age. And Marlowe’s religious views. I much prefer the Goethe version because it’s true to the higher truth of the reality beyond this world that overrules the world’s laws. The power of Love. Where all you have to do is “Ask, and it shall be given you; knock, and it shall be opened unto you; seek, and ye shall find”. At the second before death, you can ask for forgiveness and salvation and it will be granted. Truly.
Don’t let the darkness lie to you, Duncan. Don’t give it power. Think of how Big Dog loved you. How Lil Dog still does. Think of the beauty in your garden. Think of the beauty in your friend’s daughter’s eyes. When the dread comes, walk yourself into Beauty. Smell the ocean, see the beauty of the beach at Whitstable — the sky, the water and the shale, feel the waves lapping at your feet and the sun beating on your face, taste the salt on your tongue, hear the cries of the birds. Take a walk for as long as you need to along the beach. Or anywhere else that was beautiful to you. A place that you can vividly see, smell, taste, hear and feel. Let yourself feel happiness and don’t let anything unreal intrude. Refresh your soul.
Wherever you are, here, France, the UK, dwell in Beauty, Love and Light.
Blessings,
Amanda
Duncan – Does Big Dog comfort you in dreams? I believe our dogs also have souls and, being total love and innocence, go to heaven. Many is the night when my dear Tina, Sissy and Chica, my long-hair chihuahuas who have passed away, visit my dreams bringing with them ineffable assurances that all is well… My best, Leslie
you are lucky to have 2 good dogs in your lifetime. for me no more people just dogs, the honesty and sincerity Thad goes out of a dog is nurturing for my wounded soul I love her so much my Lola she comes from the streets of Spain en now she sleeps in my bed no more worries for here no more fighting fore food, just being loved
I wish I could say something comforting, but as I read old wounds open up. The only comfort I find is that I too will meet someday with my baby. Sometimes I hope soon, and wrestle with darks ideas, but I too have two full of live canines. I said it before sobriety is the way, but some days are almost unbearable.
D, I see you as a beatiful man your mirror is wrong. You might have thoughts that scare you, and make you feel a monster but they are only thoughts. Nothing else.
Fun times are ahead.