Harsh Realities

I must apologise for my silence this week.

For the past few weeks, I have been mourning the loss of the friendship, the relationship, the family, the love, the happiness that I shared with R.L.

This week has been particularly difficult owing to the looming deadlines for my final essays, presentation and exam. I have finished my essay on female freaks in classic American literature (due Monday 28th) and am now beginning research and planning for my essay on mourning in contemporary British fiction (due Tuesday 6th May and yes, I too cannot believe that I haven’t even fucking started writing it yet). Oh, and I have to prepare a 10 minute presentation for my Renaissance Drama and Witchcraft course, which I will perform on May 1st. And I have not even thought about revising for my Witchcraft exam on the May 15th. FUCKFUCKFUCKFUCKFUCK. So much to do, so little time. So, needless to say, I am stresssssssseddddddddddddd. But everyone around me is significantly more stressed than I am, which makes me wonder, ‘Why am I not panicking?’

Obviously I am trying to pour my heart and soul into my essays. But it is so hard, when I feel like I cannot see. I feel as if my vision is clouded, there is a fine mist settled over my eyes, everything is a blur, a mess, a confusion. Nothing is clear anymore. Everything is jumbled. I can’t think straight. I can’t think at all. Hence my difficulty in writing essays/poetry/blog posts recently. I just feel like I can’t do it. Derrida explains this better than I do.

Derrida [admits] how difficult it is to speak at such a moment of mourning, difficult to get the words out and difficult to find the right words. In mourning, we find ourselves at a loss, no longer ourselves, as if the singular shock of what we must bear had altered the very medium in which it was to be registered. But even if the death of a friend appears unthinkable, unspeakable, we are nonetheless, says Derrida, called upon to speak, to break the silence, to participate in the codes and rites of mourning. “Speaking is impossible,” writes Derrida in the wake of Paul de Man’s death, “but so too would be silence or absence or a refusal to share one’s sadness.”

The Five Stages of Loss and Grief:

  1. Denial and Isolation
  2. Anger
  3. Bargaining
  4. Depression
  5. Acceptance

I have been through the first 4 stages over the death of mine and R’s relationship.
I think it is time to tackle number 5.

R.I.P Helena & Robert.
2011-2014.

:):

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