I Know Nothing. I Give Up.

I’d like to announce for the record that I’m pretty sure I know nothing at all about anything.

There’s a line in the sand.

Eric departed and now I’m reorganizing — my house, my life, not to mention my identity. I didn’t know that would happen to the extent that it’s happening. I didn’t know it would have such impact.

I didn’t know how much of a couple we were. I didn’t know how connected we were, on so many levels. I thought I knew. I was sure I knew. I’m here to report that I didn’t know — at all.

When he died, it’s no surprise that it felt as if the rug of my life was pulled out from under me. I expected that. It’s natural. I’ve felt the rug pulled out from under me before.

But I didn’t expect to lose my confidence. I did lose it. It went away. It flutters back in my direction occasionally and says hello but it doesn’t stay with me. I’m chalking it up to “reorganizing my identity.” Maybe even losing my identity. I’ve lost who I thought I was, which can only be a good thing. Maybe I’ll be left with “less identity” or a minimalist version. One can only hope.

In honor of my re-organization, I’m giving up on the following for the foreseeable future. I’m throwing in the towel. If you’d like to join me for any or all of it, please let me know how it goes for you. I want to hear about it.

I’VE OFFICIALLY HAD IT WITH ALL OF THE FOLLOWING.

I’M GIVING UP ON…

Trying to make something, anything better than it is. Whatever it is, it is what it is, and that’s it. It may change. It may not. I totally, completely give up. I don’t know how to make anything better. I’m not sure “better” is better at all. It’s just different.

Hurrying. Rushing. Pushing. I’m practicing my imitation of a turtle. So there. Don’t expect me to be there on the double.

Understanding my feelings. Good grief. I totally give up. I have too many feelings. Deep feelings. Feelings I’ve never had before.

Getting to sleep at a decent hour, sleeping through the night, waking up rested and refreshed. It’s just not working. It’s not happening. I give up.

Trying. I can’t try anymore. I can’t even pretend I’m gonna try. It’s over.

Apology. I may need help with this because I have a lot of it right now. I’m overstocked. However, I’ve pulled the plug, and I’m watching it drain out. Emptying is a good thing.

My body. It isn’t particularly happy. I give up on how I’ve been eating and exercising. I’m over it. I don’t really know what I need — now. Apparently I needed what I used to need, but now I’m different. I’m throwing caution to the wind. I’ll let you know what I do and how that goes.

Being organized. It’s impossible. Never-ending. A silly pipe dream. Never gonna happen. I give up.

The idea of excellence. What is that, anyway? And why do we need it? I’m with e e cummings on this subject. He said, “let them go — the truthful liars and the false fair friends and the boths and neithers — you must let them go they were born to go…” 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

death, give up, In Care of Relationships, Terri Crosby, throw in the towel

Comments (20)

  • Terri – While you may not know much at the moment ( and I can SO relate to what you say here), this post is nothing short of brilliant. Thanks so much for sharing in such a deeply authentic way.

    Sending love,

    Amy

    • Thank you, Amy. Someone just wrote me on email about this post, saying how she was finding treasures in her surrender. I wrote back to say I’m not in the “treasure” part of the journey yet! LOL! I’m in the fall down go boom, lost in the forest, groping in the dark part! Ah, this, too will change… or not :–). Whatever!
      love to you,
      Terri

  • You are a deeply wise, courageous woman. As long as I have had the treasure-pleasure of knowing you, I have experienced you as deeply connected, honest and wise. Now I hear that you are doing a deeper dive into Truth, and I feel confident that you are on a deeply authentic journey into your Reality.
    I love you. I honor and respect you Terri

  • Thank you. No Mercury in retrograde here. I get it clearly. So well put.

    Simply empty, Wholly in nothingness. Overwhelmed into numbness. Does it matter? It is what it is. And “is” is always and forever changing. So, for now, what difference does it make? Both denial and acceptance create healing space.

    It’s amazing how the rest of the world goes on, making so much of everything, buzzing around with craziness, when our life stops cold, and no one seems to get it, and we are alone in our inner world. The rest of the world totally doesn’t get it, whatever “it” is.

    Escape; can’t; so time to fold “em, and just take in the breath of Life Force that is Spirit and Eric.

    Time for a beer, or chocolate, or screaming, or crying, or staring out the window at nothing, passing gas, avoiding everything, kicking the shit out of “should’s”, cuddling with dog and cat, smoking pot, seeing how far you can spit, staring at a candle, getting in the car and driving to anywhere, dancing alone, going to a spa and vastly indulging the body, going to the beach and sitting in the ocean, walking a mountain trail, reading a really stupid book, or doing nothing, nothing, nothing at all. It all DOES matter even if it doesn’t matter. Ha. What do I know? Same as you, nothing.

    Thanks for your sharing. Well said.

  • My heart is tugged in oh so many ways dear one. I can’t imagine losing Paul as you’ve lost Eric. One thing I know for sure about you is courage. AND being in my own version of a transformation in its infancy, I too am blind, afraid , frustrated and oddly optimistic. I turn 70 this year…OMG…70. And if ONE more person tells me you are as old as you feel I am going to scream.

    As a fellow (and recovering) pusher and puller in life, I am trying to respect that these deep transformations have their own time line. DAMN IT!

    Keep breathing in sweet breaths of life and breathe out any and all that icky stuff. HUGS whenever you can take one in!!!

    C

  • I believe that’s might be the definition of allowing:)
    ALWAYS a good thing.
    Not always easy!
    Your willingness to be open about all of this is a gift to many.

    I adore you whether you are engaged or not with all the categories you listed.

    • Thank you, Shiner. You know I always love hearing what you have to say. Thank you for your love. It’s good to know I’m still OK with you even if I don’t get to all the categories. What a good thing. :–) Love, Terri

  • Two things, Terri:

    The first thing:
    I’ve kept this clipping of the old “Shoe” cartoon for years. He says, “I feel so much better since I gave up…”
    Roz says, “Drinking?”
    He says, “No. I just gave up.”

    Second thing:
    When I’ve had to hit the restart button on my life AGAIN, I find liberation hiding beneath the grief and fear as I realize that I have no control over over anything. Not one single thing. Not even myself. I go back to putting one foot in front of the other when I can. When I can’t, oh well–time for a rest.

    Take your foot off the gas and coast for a while, a good long while.
    Love to you.

  • Terri–I have visited where you are too. Isn’t it one of the most painful experiences ever while being one that frees you up at the same time. I read your sharings with familiarity, thank you for that and for your clarity and confusion with it all. It is hard to just let the”horse” have its head, yet that is what works. I love the notion of just giving it up that you related, a nice kernel to live with at times.

  • Hi Cousin,
    Lots of love and prayers coming your way. What you are writing about is the yuckiness and grief. It is not a fun walk at all, but there is no other way. I remember feeling like I was going crazy. I just wanted to be done with sadness and grief and I wanted “normal”. Will normal had changed . We are complex beings as created by the Lord. Grief does a heck of a number on us physically, mentally, emotionally and spiritually. God has you . He loves you. Lean heavily into His bosom. Take good care of yourself . Reduce the stress as much as possible . I love you Teri and my heart goes out to you. Deb

    • Deb, thank you for your words. I, too, want to be done with the sadness. And sometimes I feel totally nuts. Yes, a new normal. Hmmm… Thank you for your heartfulness. I feel it. love, Terri

  • You continue to inspire me with your willingness to be raw and truthful! It’s a powerful time of re-organizing, and the angels, I’m sure, have something even more wonderful in store for you . . . I see them stroking you tenderly right this very minute to sooth your angst!

    • Thank you, Delia. I do know there is more in store for me and I trust that it is equally or even more wonderful. Thank you for your vision of the angels. love, Terri

  • Hi Terri,
    I can relate. For me, when rugs get pulled out from under me, my universe goes upside down, taking most of my precepts with it. Scary but also a refreshing relief.

    In general, I no longer feel like I know what’s best for anyone; my job is to listen and reflect acceptance and compassion. That is often a tall order.

    My body: inside I feel slim. How did I get so large and how can I return to lightweight, slender me? I totally give up on discipline and exercise – in terms of believing that I have any semblance of control. I am a sugar addict.

    I like knowing you’re out there thinking, growing and sharing.

    Sending you love and strength for all your next steps. ❤️

    Karen

  • TERRI… WHAT A WONDERFUL, WARMHEARTED AND INSIGHTFUL COLLECTION OF THOUGHTS AND

    NOTES… VERY TOUCHING … KUDOS TO YOU FOR INSPIRING OTHERS TO MAKE SUCH GENUINE

    AND HEARTFELT COMMENTS… 🙂 TRUST YOUR LIFE IS COMING TOGETHER IN A NEW AND

    JOYOUS WAY… LOVE TO YOU AND MACKENZIE… COREY

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