Manic highs, desperate lows...

This has been the week from both heaven & hell...

My beloved friend Tina died on the 2nd. Then Tommy—absent for much longer than he was present—came back into my life on the 6th with a bang that far eclipsed the best of the 4th of July fireworks. The 7th would have been Marcia's birthday (see my 7/3 & 6/24 posts). Ironically, it is also the very same the day on which I sat writing an obituary & memorial card for Tina, because her Mark couldn't deal with it. And, then, Tina's wake is on the 9th—the same day that claimed the life of my ex-brother-in-law, Michael, at age 23, who left behind an 8 month old son & grieving widow. Too much coincidence. Creeps me out. While I dreaded early July before, I will now assidiously avoid it...

We humans are a resilient lot. Yet, in many ways, we are so very fragile—like little birds with broken wings. We usually don't go outside ourselves for comfort, instead carrying our lonely pain deep inside. We are the walking wounded: death, betrayal, misfortune, & events out of our control are but a few of the things that contribute to the creation of our wounds—often so deeply embedded in our psyches that they prevent us from participating in life. Afraid to let anyone in, we hide behind emotional fortresses so strong they are impossible for anyone—save a God or Goddess—to penetrate. Thus, we end up just going through the motions of living, observing life through the windows of our self-imposed prisons, unable (or unwilling) to break through the glass of fear to get to the other side.