There Will Be No Sorrow

This past weekend (it’s Sunday here in NZ) has been really difficult for me. There have been a lot of tears and a lot of swearing, from one who doesn’t generally swear much.  I think it would be reasonable to say I am entitled to do some mud-slinging on account of what another person has put me through lately.  I’m not going to.

[So that you’re not completely in the dark, a number of you follow my ex-boyfriend’s blog and yesterday he posted some rather startling (well, to me anyway) news on his blog.  That, combined with some other matters I can’t go into, led to a great deal of upset for me.]

What does mud-slinging really achieve though?  Nothing really.  Maybe a brief moment of satisfaction, but not enough to make it worth it.  I’m not really a mud-slinging type either.  I might feel it inside and maybe sometimes it would be better expressed.  But only when it is expressed safely, for both me and anyone who might be in the way.

One of the difficulties I have faced is that I haven’t been treated with that all important kindness and compassion.  Should I say the kindness and compassion which is crucial to me in how I relate to others.  Mud-slinging would not meet my criteria of kindness and compassion, so that even though it might seem justified, I’m not going there.

I’m hurt, but I can find peace for myself eventually simply in the way I choose to react.  So one step at a time, I’m going to patch up my wounds and move on.  No, it’s not that easy.  I’m human too.  But it is my choice.

Interestingly (and painfully) while all this was happening yesterday I had another painful exchange with a family member who told me that my teenage behaviour some 30+ years ago had scarred their life ever since.  I was already feeling pretty overloaded with emotion, although this person was not aware of what else was going on for me.

To be fair I was probably the worst behaved of the three teenagers in the family, but I wasn’t a ‘bad kid’.  There was nothing extreme.  I was just me and was probably starting to show my Borderline Personality Disorder (BPD) tendencies, which wouldn’t be diagnosed for another 25+ years.  I was simply a little difficult to communicate with unless I felt totally accepted by the person communicating.

30 plus years on and I have been told what I always suspected.  The way this person is today is apparently my fault.  Luckily this is something that I had already been through in therapy (because I suspected the person felt that way), so I was able to distance myself from this blame.  I am not responsible for the actions of another person, even if I was a slightly difficult teen.  And let’s be real.  That was so long ago.

This all relates to the other things happening in my life this week, where I have been blamed for another’s behaviour/actions.  It’s interesting how we can so easily blame another for our behaviours, and while this would have crippled me in the past, I’m not letting it.

I’ll be straight with you, and I apologise to those who find it difficult reading.  A few weeks back I spoke in Flawed… Or Perfectly Formed about how chronic suicidal thoughts tend to crop up for me anytime anything goes bad.  So yes, this past week I have struggled to see any hope and thoughts of suicide came up and hit me square in the face.  Yes, for a bit it seemed like the best option right now and I was scared of the track I appeared to be heading on.  I wanted my Dad because we had a type of password agreement between us in which if I couldn’t find any other words to say how I was, I could indicate just how bad things were by this means.  Dad, of course is no longer here, having died over two years ago.  And there was no one to reach out to in this manner.

What eventually shifted my thoughts was the number of readers who follow my blog who have lost a family member to suicide.  Those readers helped me (without knowing it) to shift my thinking away from destruction.  Their pain (from where I’m sitting) managed to shift the block for me.

I go on.  I move on from the hurt of this week.  There are some wounds that need healing but for that little girl (L) who is like my guardian angel ( see Disappointed In Me) , I keep on going one step at a time.  Thank you to my dear friends who have also helped me to do that just by being there (often across cyber space).

My friend Ruby, shared this music link with me after I included another version of the song some time back.  I’m sharing it today because the wording is slightly different from most Beatles versions.  This one includes the words ‘there will be no sorrow‘.  I’m not sure what The Beatles meant by this slight change but I like to think that when we learn to always treat people with kindness and compassion, that ‘there will be no more sorrow‘.  This is my hope.  Thanks Ruby.

You cannot do a kindness too soon, for you never know how soon it will be too late.” 

― Ralph Waldo Emerson

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26 thoughts on “There Will Be No Sorrow

  1. I almost don’t like to listen to the song off the album anymore, because I miss those words so much when I do. I never noticed it before watching again here, but Paul is reading the sheet music. So it was brand new. There’s also a look in his eyes in this video that tells a lot about what this song meant to him.

    I love you, Cate. I don’t know what else I can say. ♥

      1. Makes me wonder why they were ever taken out. “Shine on till tomorrow. . .” My instincts say John. It’s crazy, but listening there, I can actually tell you which words were Paul’s, which were John’s, and which blur. I’d never thought on it before, but I can tell you unequivocally.

        I also wonder where Ringo was.

      2. Yours and mine! Deal.

        And I love that song too. And her Gonna Get Over You. I never saw myself as the sort to be into that sort of sentiment in a song, but then live happens…

  2. My thoughts and concerns were for you when I read that post yesterday morning. I was quite taken aback, especially after what he’d written on your blog about you. I knew you’d be deeply hurt and I’m so sorry that you’re having to be hurt all over again!! ((()))

    1. Thanks Kathy. I’ve removed that particular post off my blog now. It was all too deja vu, if that makes sense. And yes, it does seem like it’s all over again… and more. Thanks for your support and love. ❤

  3. Squashing those thoughts are difficult when they come. I fantasize about my own suicide. The thoughts are lonely, but fulfilling. I practice over and over in my head the ways that will make the most impact and distribute my message most effectively.

    I love how you use the Beatles! “Let it be” sums it up for me. When my anger, pain and frustration comes flooding in, I just “let it Be” until it passes. I was struggling just yesterday with rejection and pain. I could feel myself spiraling! Somehow, by the grace of God, the feeling subsided and I lived to love another day!

    Honestly though, I could never do it. I’ve have been to the darkest side and in the bosom of suicide. I cannot take this path. So, I’ve made a firm commitment to life, love and happiness!

    1. Hi Cassie, Personally I don’t find fantasizing about suicide to be in any way helpful to me. Actually it is quite destructive for me and I do my best to avoid it. I’m glad though that you have chosen not to take that path. I wonder how it would go if you were to fantasize choosing life? Just a thought. Take care of yourself and thanks for your comments.

  4. Good Helper Woman

    What I appreciate the most about you is that through all that you struggle with, you have the courage to share it with all of us.
    And we will be here for you. Your truth has helped me get through many a rough day, and brought me that sigh of relief knowing there is someone else out there who gets me. Who can express what happens in my brain too.
    Hugs and love to you always.

      1. Good Helper Woman

        Found this quote: “I don’t think people understand how stressful it is to explain what’s going on in your head when you don’t even understand it yourself.”
        — Sara Quin

        You have the gift of explaining it and that is a blessing for all of us.

  5. Dearest Cate, I don’t understand everything you write about fully because I myself have not experienced some of them. But I’m kind of where you are at this point – the mudslinging, the suicidal thoughts…I am here for you. And you are not the only one. From your posts I can tell you are an intelligent wonderful person and a lot of the time reading your blog gives me hope. I know it sounds selfish – but please don’t take that away from me.

    1. Hi November, Thanks for your comments. It’s really nice to know that there is someone else on a similar road, although at the same time I hate that for you. I hate that you are suffering and I hope you can find a way to cling on and get through it. I’m not going anywhere. Promise. ❤ Cate

  6. Hoo boy. You wrote of suicide while I was away from wordpress, Cate, which may or may not be a good thing. Last time I reached out to a blogger who spoke of death… well, my life underwent seismic change, the effects of which I’m still feeling. 🙂

    Still, for what it’s worth, along with my admiration for your spirit and unlimited goodness (not the word I want, but I can’t come up with the right one) you have my support and friendship. Make use of them when needed! We’re a world distant and on different journeys, yet our paths cross at quite a few points along the way, I think.

    1. I have to admit that I’m not wildly into seismic change, or certainly the literal version. We have quite enough of that here as it is without adding to it via writing. But hey, if we can go figuratively then maybe. 😉 Meanwhile thanks for your support.

  7. Pingback: Sliding Scales (Actually Quite Good Considering) | Infinite Sadness... or hope?

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