How to share the heartbeat of a story

Permission to feel: despair

1993.

1996.

1999.

2009.

These are the years I felt utter, utter despair. Just as I typed that, my fingers rested on the keyboard, needing a moment. What would be of most service to you?

When we hear others’ stories, there can be so much healing witnessing ourselves in those stories, in those who are brave enough to open their hearts with their words, for all to see. Would that be of most service?

What if we are not brave enough? Or, what if it’s not to do with bravery? What if the despair held such a sacredness to it that we fear sharing it will scatter its sanctity like shattered glass.

For our sacred stories of despair, we have poetry.

Let’s start again.

Image by Victoria from Pixabay

“Do as daddy says my love,

Do as daddy says”

‘But even if...?

And even when...?

Can you not see...?’

“No no,

Do as daddy says my love

Do as daddy says.”

I want to howl my heart today

I want to howl my houch away

My heart that’s heavy

My heart that’s sore;

That’s left me howling, like before.

I want to unlearn lessons taught,

Rewind the clock.

I wish I’d fought…

I want to have stayed with you that night 

And, like I promised, make it right.

I want you to have cried “I’m not ok!”

When I suggested ‘one more day?’,

But you just smiled and said, ‘sure’,

And that left me howling on the floor.

I want us to be talking now,

Of that near miss when you worked out how

Your life (your life!) was worth holding onto still;

Not cut short by some deadly pill.

I didn’t count your ten tiny fingers nor your ten tiny toes.There was no face,

no… 

button nose. 

I didn’t feel your weight nor your little kicks.There was no ‘nearly there’, 

no…

 room to fix. 

I didn’t feel you ease into life, 

to start all fresh.

No weight to announce.

No…

I was not blessed. 

Good God my love.

How I miss you so.

That little soul

I’ll never know.

I’ve heard enough.

The record stuck,

The song a chalkboard screech.

I cannot speak.

There are no words.

Defences have been vented,

Accusations hurled.

I cannot write.

No ink splurge can do justice.

But

I can feel.

It’s all I have.

And so the body heaves

And so the tears fall.

How much salve is in the story and how much is in the heartbeat of the story? For that is where we meet each other, isn’t it? In the heart-felt.

Poetry is storytelling with a heartbeat.

Yesterday I was honoured to hold space for a group of fellow writers (hello if you are reading this!) to write about cultivating hope.

We shared some of our stories through poetry.

The words ‘courage’, ‘fear’, ‘perseverance’, ‘hopelessness’, ‘determination’ rose to the surface - shared emotions woven through our disparate experiences, different wounds.

Despair is a lonely feeling. If you read these regularly you may have noticed that I often try to find the jewel in each emotional crown. But despair? Really?

I think that perhaps despair’s saving grace is that it offers us the opportunity for compassion, love and empathy.

There is beauty in despair

For it speaks of a heart that loved so much

Of an eye watering longing

For a delicate dream that was dared.

Yes look despair square on and say:

It’s only because I cared.

Image by 51581 from Pixabay

To those of us who have felt despair, we know the vast abyss that it creates within our hearts. Don’t you want to make sure that no one else ever feels that, if you can help it?

Love is what we are born with. Fear is what we learn. The spiritual journey is the unlearning of fear and prejudices and the acceptance of love back in our hearts.

Marianne Williamson

Whilst there are many things in the world that I can feel despair about, offering the hope workshop for free was a small step from me to help some people feel less despair.

I have many workshops on different feelings up my sleeve. I may do one on grief next - let me know if you are interested!

On a similar note, I have also been creating something for those who love people struggling with addiction. It can be an extraordinarily despairing place to be.

I have noticed that whilst the stigma of addiction seems to be diminishing, the help for the loved ones is very scarce. As someone who is trained professionally in addiction psychology and has felt that despair myself, I wanted to do what I can to help diminish despair.

‘Feeling Freedom’ is a 12 week programme to begin with, building a community for those affected by the vortex of addiction. If you, or anyone you know is interested you can find out more here, or email me.

What do you think about using poetry as way to tell the heartbeat of your story? I’d love to hear!

That’s it for now,

‘Til next time.

Jacky x