Saturday, August 3, 2013

Did Sisyphus Come To Love His Rock?

I'm a couple of days away from heading home with my Mum's ashes.  Going back to Norfolk is always emotional for me (I got emigrated to Canada when I was eight and left a lot of family and friends behind).  On top of that I'm seeing Mum's last wishes through by taking her home.  Mum has been sitting on her cupboard in our front room since we got her ashes last year.

I'm at the end of a decade long odyssey that began around my parents' divorce in 2004.  My Mum's deteriorating mental health made this a tragic trip into the abyss.  In retrospect, suicide was the inevitable conclusion to this horrible experience.

Sisyphus and his rock
I've been pushing this rock up the hill for so long, with so many moments of total despair, that I'm suddenly finding myself anxious about letting it go.  Did Sisyphus come to love his rock?  When you think misery is going to last forever, do you start greeting misery like an old friend?

My anxiety about doing this is peaking.  I'm wondering if that isn't because I've come to see this misery as a part of myself, but is it?

My greatest fear is that the madness that claimed Mum is in me somewhere.  If this grief is an avenue to that, I need to realize that it's not a part of me, and I can let it go.