Saturday, 23 October 2010


Welcome, happy campers.

And, yes, another week has passed me by and still my muse eludes me. On a positive note, I have completed another round of edits on Written in Stone and managed to get a week’s worth of washing finally dry. Oh, I can just see the bored eye-rolling going on and the internal ‘whatevers’. Hey – this was no mean feat. Have you ever tried drying a week’s supply of heavy/thrash/death metal t-shirts? {My son’s - not mine and you can imagine the faces of the passer bye. I swear they make the sign of the cross as they gaze up in stupefaction at my washing line}.
Back to the rain. This beautiful island of mine was under siege to a series of tempestuous storms, worthy of a Cecil B De Mille movie: forked lightening, streets awash with monsoon rains, 2-inch hailstones rain all washed down with a 4, 5-magnitude earthquake. Kinda hard to type when your pc screen is waving from side to side {and, no, it wasn’t the gin – must get more of that in, actually}.

So time to get down to business. Continuing last week’s theme of misused words in relation to that great human burden called love, I thought, today, I would focus on the term, heart-broken.
Someone once told me they find me remarkable. They cannot understand how I have faced such difficult times in my life, dealing with them in a stoic way, and yet, I go to pieces over a trifling, relatively unimportant matter – such as….well, you can guess the rest. For those who do not know me, my friend was referring to my two-times battle with a potentially life-threatening disease and the discomfort and humiliation the subsequent treatment entailed. While I am not saying it was easy, I find the physical pain in no way can compare to damaging of one’s heart. Our body, at the end of the day, is God’s protective shell for our soul; the essence that makes us who we are. When this is damaged, the pain can be far greater than any physical trauma. So – my well-meaning friend – unimportant? I think not.

From thesaurus: inconsolable, grief-stricken, lovesick, crushed, wretched
My heart is breaking; he /she broke my heart blah blah.

I don’t know about you lot out there but, really, what an ineffectual term. To me, a break defines something quick – intensely painful, yes but does it really describe the angst?
I doubt there is anyone who has not experienced the incredible pain that accompanies the end of a relationship. And if you deny it – you are either lying or are a robot. Again, I am not just talking about love between lovers. {As a good friend of mine once said, sex is ok but – hey – what do you do for the next 22 hours?}. The loss of a dear friend can be just as painful.
Ever cut your figure on a serrated knife? The tiniest of cuts. In the beginning, it bleeds a little but the bleeding soon stops. You think it’s ok, not too deep but it throbs for hours. For me, the pain of losing someone pretty much follows this pattern. In the beginning, there is an ouch. I’ll be ok, you tell yourself but as the hours drag by {and boy, don’t they drag} you realize there is this rather painful hole somewhere in the middle of your chest. The tiny cut becomes a full-blown gash as that serrated knife of rejection is twisted and turned, slowly but surely gouging out another part of you. Your heart is being torn and shredding into a thousand little festering pieces. You wonder - will it ever heal? The damage is too great, the pain too much to bear. The tears you cried in the beginning dry up, leaving in their wake, a burning rawness at the back of your throat. Your head swims with unanswered questions; why, when, because of? Drowning in a sea of misery and masochism, you relive the good times which only serves to increase the incredible sense of loss. It’s like scratching and picking at a scab trying to form over the wound. A temporary release from the itch but, nevertheless, futile. You cannot let it go.


I feel as if I have been kicked in the stomach,
Oh God, yes – now here is one term that is spot on. Rejection, break-up. It’s like someone stuck in their hand and twisted your insides until you real sick and I mean actually nauseous. Your body grows cold, head pounds and you shiver. The thought of food makes you want to vomit. There is pain, there. Real, physical pain.
Of course, time can be a great healer and, the human spirit is resilient. Gradually the pain will fade. Not gone – never gone but buried deep, to be resurrected by a memory, a song, a moment. Some folk never truly get over a loss. People can and often do die of a broken heart. Don’t dismiss it and whatever you do, do not make light of someone else’s suffering. It may seem trivial to you but – hey – wait til it hits you. Then you will know. You will realize….
I wonder if this is why so many of us write romance. In our imaginary worlds can we vent the emotions we are too wary of sharing with friends and family? And, of course, in our worlds, we do get to control the outcome.
Until next week, folks, I leave you with a little ditty. Not my words, I hasten to add.

Enjoy your weekend.


Days have come and gone
Since you were here
Nights are twice as long
Without you near
Pictures on my mind
Stand out so clear
No matter where I am
Or what I do
My dear friend,
All I see is you
Everyday I find
You're on my mind
I close my eyes
But I'm not blind
I see you still.


  1. Awesome post, V. Your descriptions dredged up the pain from teenage years when I thought a break-up would certainly be the death of me. Strangely, I didn't feel that pain when a thirty-two year marriage ended. I guess it was because I was the person who left. I think the "leavee" is usually the one who hurts the most.

  2. Extremely moving post! Of course, broken relationships are a way of life but there are those which leave parts of your spirit amputated. I remember a few moonths after my mother died, I had a family-history question. Instinctively, I reached for the phone to call "mom" only to remember...she wasn't there anymore. Thanks for sharing your wonderful thoughts, Viv. Your beauty is shining through to Southern California.

    Karen Cote

  3. Jeeesh, Viv, no matter what you say, you live quite the life. Sorry about the broken heart. It's one of the toughest things we have to face. But best to get it out, cry, stomp your feet, beat your breast, sob into the sheets, wail to the heavens. That's the wonderful part of having Mediterranean blood in you (and me, as I am 1/2 Italian). We don't keep any of this inside to fester and kill us. Be good to yourself and keep letting it out. One of these days there will be less and you'll be on your way to healing.

  4. I once literally lost thirty pounds over a man. Great diet, one might say. NOT! How much misery can one soul handle? One can not know until she has been victim of the broken heart. Autonomic bodily functions continue. YOu breathe in and out, heart beats in your chest, but eyes are dull and walk listless. How cruel is love.

    How divine. It is through the wages of love lost that we come to know the depths of the human heart and its amazing resilience. In large part it is the owner's ability to steer her outlook to the light at the horizon of a new day that determines the length of the shattered heart's pain. We are amazing creatures with much to learn and live.

    The stuff of romance novels resonates true because it is. It is through the bitter and the sweet we grow to love yet again and relize the magic of this emotion--this energy in motion--this love.

    There's more than one 'soulmate' for us all. It's when you least expect it, he walks into your life.

    There's enough love in each of us to love every child that comes to us with equal though different intensity. There's also enough to love family, friends and lovers throughout a lifetime of trial and triumph. And it is through the pain that we gain perspective on the preciousness of this most basic of human emotion. In the end, it's what makes the journey worth the effort--pain and zeneiths of bliss included.

    What a great post Viv. Thanks for your eloquence and insight.

    Christine London