Izzy, pain, thoughts

im not a particular tv-fan...let alone tv-series (most of which i find so annoying and 'brain-damaging' that when i see fam.members sitting in front of the telly with a dum expression on theri faces i feel a strong and sudden urge to switch it off,and read to them if they feel to tired to do so alone.)

but Grey's Anatomy is one of the few i have found myself waiting week after week.
at first it was only the good-to-watch film when huge piles of clotes-to-be-ironed were waiting for me in the living room...
then, one day i have found myself describing the names of the key characters to my mother telling her to choose this film if she really feels like watching something

no character was more important than the other, no emotion portrayed in the film stronger than the other. all of it was so human, so understandable.

moralizing, yes. but not more or worse than the fable about the ant and the cricket...

but before the 'summer break'(i have learnt most series have them..so that tv-companies dont lose regular viewers away on the holiday who'd not be happy not being able to follow the story once having missed some episodes)...so before the break Izzy lost her man...i remember having had to sit down (ironing left off) in order to feel strong enough to watch.

then the summer has brought me a lot of changes .. most of which took place inside of me.
then september has brought new decisions: staying(voting for family and stability) and work(mainly teaching and kids and growth and only partly coping with problems and pain of others)

september has also brought with memories of last year and an incredibly strong wish to undo.
undo in the sense of unlocking.
if i could ask for a miracle i'd not want her alive again(i do not wish to undo death) but i'd wish to triple the length of the days spent with her.
then i had to realize that i cannot undo her absence.
and i cannot undo the pain i feel every time i notice her absence.
pain is with a reason. always.

then in october Grey's Anatomy continued...and I sat bewildered.
unable to breath, or cry, unable to move or yell,
unable to whisper or shout,
unable to hurt or to defend.
I sat watching a girl laying unmoving on a carpet
at the command of a director
and someone else who knew HOWto portray the way
I have FELT month before.

Not hysteric.
not alive.
not dead.
just stuck.
numb.
in purgatory.

Izzy spoke and her words sank deep into me.
as she lay on the floor talking about a world too suddenly changed
not knowing how did she arrive where she was
on the floor
in a balldress
at a night when she was supposed to be celebrating
not knowing where all the pain was from
or who she was
or waht pushed her on the floor
hte only stable thing
unmoving.

Then Izzy standing in front of the hospital for hours and hours. unmoving. still.
(of course you'd not stand there for hours. but you feel like. and everything is slow motion. and repetitive like her muffins.)
and hurting like hell,all over.

and god knows why but i felt relief.
relief watching that pain pictured.
nurturing the feeling of:
having survived.
and feeling happy.

knowing of course that happiness is a relative thing.
it is rather a certain kind of peace.
and safety.
a point in life in which i can be made happy and i can make other happy
but i still think many sad thoughts
(in silence, and alone, and writing, like now
not publicly
but semi-publicly
fearing responses
but hoping for them)

and sometimes..sometimes i really feel very full, and very alive
and i feel emotions(good ones) washing over me
cleansing my body from all
that is left of the pain

in moments like that i close my eyes and think very hard of one person
and of the love i have to give to him.