Breaking point

[praefect]

Need some place to talk. Not sure if any of this will be coherant. Bear with me, please.

Everybody has heard of it, the breaking point, but what really happens to a person that breaks? I think I'm on the edge of it. Life has been trying hard to beat me into submission in the last few months.

If getting a polyandrous D/s relationship working wasn't hard enough, my cousin tried to commit suicide, my first born - which I wasn't told about - died - which I found out after the cremation, my mother is in the hospital, husband number 2 decides this is the best time to admit to having cheated in the past, the wife/slave needs my support, this relationship might be falling into pieces, my father has maybe a year left to live, my mother needs emotional support... and on and on and on.

Fires everywhere. So many people. So many problems. And who do they look for to be there for them when it comes tumbling down? Me. And I've been there for them, but especially with my child having died now I'm really at the end of the line. I can't even deal with the pain, it's so overwhelming. It's like staring into the sun. At first I didn't know why I couldn't cry for more than 5 seconds, or 10, here and there when I thought about her, until I realized that the pain is the only thing I have of her, and the only thing I ever will have. I carry it around like it was my child and it's breaking me apart.

Physically that is. Not emotional. My hands haven't stopped shaking in days. I feel weak, falling into myself. My digestion, don't get me started. Emotionally I'm just drained. Empty. And now when someone comes to me in need for emotional support I react with uncontrolled anger, pushing them away. Telling your slave, who just found out she's been cheated on for the 7 years her marriage had lasted before I entered the picture in our triad that she should FUCKING GET OUT OF MY SIGHT. LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE simply because she wanted someones shoulder to cry on... yeah, I think that's when I realized... I'm not doing too well.

I need a vacation. Away from all people. 2 weeks alone. I thought about visiting the beach where her ashes were scattered. Isis was her name. God... incredible. You know, I worried about how I would feel love towards a child of my own at some point. People say that you always love your own children, but everybody can see that is not always true. Sometimes it seems like it isn't even true most of the time. But when I heard that there was someone "of me", a little girl, I felt unconditional love ... oh man. Too painful to talk about.

What happens to someone when they break? I don't know, but it feels like I'm going to find out soon.

 

[Guinner]

I can't tell you what will happen, but in my mind it means you'll change, wether you like it or not. It's good to realize that, as that would make you more than just a bystander.

But, the more important part I'd like to talk about now is that, even though we don't know each other, your story hit me, and I wish i could help you, even though I know that's not possible. Well, maybe the fact that I listened is helpful in some way.

Isis, that's a lovely name. I understand the background you have is a larger story than a forum post can hold, but I hope you'll be able to find peace with it eventually.

 

[eastern sun]

My heart goes out to you. I've been afraid that I might break before. I've even felt as though I did. I agree with Guinner, that it means you have an opportunity to change.

The times when I felt like I stood in the rubble of my own psyche were oddly liberating. When I started moving again, picking up the pieces and going forward, I found that I never put the pieces back together again in the same way. Some parts of my life/myself were abandoned altogether. Sometimes the open space allowed new elements to develop.

It doesn't have to be bad to break. Or fall apart. The process might be painful. Frightening. But the outcome may not be bad.

The fact that you are still aware of how your actions affect the people around you is a very, very good thing.

Ground yourself in the little things. Stay very close to the "here and now." It's the mundane little things that we hardly notice in our moment to moment living that offered me a path through those difficult times.

 

[BLoved]

When my wife died, I kept going because our son needed me.

When my son died, I took to my bed.

Sleep was the only escape I had from the reality of my life.

The only things that kept me going were my dogs. They needed to be fed, they needed water, they needed to go outside, they needed to come back in.

As much as I wanted to die, I couldn't. They needed me to live.

It was that call to duty that kept me putting one foot in front of the other.

I'd been through something very similar when I was ten. My father died in a car accident. The grandfather who lived with us died a month later in the room next to mine. My mother moved us and I lost all that was familiar to me.

I cried myself to sleep for a year.

It was my duty to my mother and younger brother that finally pulled me out of it.

I know what it is like to be helpless, to be unable to change reality to suit my needs, dreams, hopes and desires, to be forced to accept the unacceptable.

Like you I am the one everyone comes to when they need a shoulder to cry on. It is a duty I bear willingly, to help others. I may not be able to make my world the way I wish, but I can still help others to achieve their dreams, or ease the burden they carry when their dreams are crushed.

It has been three years since my son died, four since I lost my wife. I still live in our home in the country, a very quiet, isolated existence. For a little more than two years I've sought my beloved and I found her. We celebrated four weeks of living together yesterday.

Life goes on. We may stumble and fall, but what matters is we get back up, dust ourselves off and continue.

 

[subwannabe]

Are you getting professional help? That's what you need to work you're way through all of this. Taking a vacation isn't going to help. You will still be thinking everything you are now and the problems will still be there when you get back. You've got to realize that some of this is beyond your control and that there is noting you can do about it so you shouldn't even waste your energy trying. Find out which things you can actually do something about and then let a professional help you formulate a game plan to do it.

 

[sydneys]

Having been through some rough times I agree that you need to see a professional. My philosphy with regards to life is that of Kurt Vonnegut, "So it goes."

 

[praefect]

I have a similar fatalistic philosophy.

One step at the time, one step after the other, The pieces will fall as they may and all will be as it should, one way or the other.

I got a letter with a picture of where the ashes were scattered and finally was able to let it all out. Pointe du Raz. It's so beautiful. I had something other than the pain to hold on to now. A place. Something I could see. Letting go felt both terrible and wonderful at the same time. Still stressful, still not myself again, but no longer at the brink to the unkown.

I feel a lot, A LOT, better now.

 

[coinín]

Nothing for it but to do the best you can and keep going, this is true.

I offer my genuine hope that it gets better; I have faith that if you continue being as strong as you have been, it will.