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Quote by Matheesha Prathapa

“In Life, Every Lesson Repeats Until It’s Learned. Life has a way of teaching us what we refuse to see. The same challenges, the same pain, the same mistakes, they circle back, again and again, until we finally listen. Growth begins the moment we learn the lesson, not when we escape it.”

Quote by Matheesha Prathapa

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Matheesha Prathapa

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“Homecoming Sonnet Salutations to all, today is my homecoming, To dwell in grief is treachery on life. I sought plenty escape in translations, but true ointment lies in the soil of life. So I return, shattering shackles of sorrow - Reignite me oh life, resuscitate me unto duty! I want no more to sob through the alleys of pity - Sanctify me oh divine nature, with renewed tenacity. Today I break all spell of ominous cowardice, Today I vivify my veins as the volcanic vanguard! I refuse to be castrated by pathetic redundancy, Today I revive my vows as defender of the world!”

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Book:World War Human: 100 New Earthling Sonnets
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“If I could stop getting caught in the old cobwebs of disappointment and accept my dad as he was, I might enjoy myself too. In the emotional tumbling routine of my father slowly dying, I did manage to land the dismount from the old pain. I successfully let go of any blame or desire from a different version of a dad. He and I were both grateful when I could just easily and simply sit with him in love.”

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Book:End of the Hour: A Therapist's Memoir
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“...It felt like permission. The kind I hadn't let myself have for [six months]. The kind of permission I'd been waiting for, as I sat alone in [her] apartment in grief, welled up so high, it felt suffocating. The permission I thought I'd given myself. But it hadn't been permission to cry. It had been a command to be strong. To be ok. I told myself over and over, I had to be ok. And finally, finally! Someone gave me permission to come undone.”

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“Speeding through grief always has a cost. To bury somebody's supposed-to-be is also to bury a story that's untold. When you bury someone's story like that, it gets lodged in the ribcage, it gets radioactive, it festers, it shouts to be heard. Grief is always a voice that needs to speak. If you suppress it, it still speaks— but not always in ways that are healthy. Not in the ways you need. It pushes through your skin like rogue splinters. Burying a future loss without telling its story can make you sick. Timesick. You get split between timelines. The further along you go, the further away you get from that dream, and you look around and wonder how people can keep going while you want the world to stop, time to freeze, to get back to your real universe. And you get well-meaning people around you, always the ones who mean well, who are nudging you forward, shoving you, really, and you clutch two timelines until you're ripped in half. Part of my role as a chaplain, I've learned, is to make room for these original timelines. That they may be spoken, shared. The story told. "There is no agony like bearing an untold story inside you, Zora Neale Hurston said. It must be conversely true that there is no greater peace than to tell that story.”

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Book:As Long as You Need: Permission to Grieve
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“She looks so much like a person hurt beyond belief, with her rubbed-to-fuzz hair and her screaming and her blistered eyes. Nothing else matters but her pain, the biggest, loudest thing in the world, unimaginable, a way that people only ever expect to feel maybe once in their life, if ever at all, and maybe never even really recover from. She gets this way all the time. Ripped to shreds when a relationship ends. Is this real? Could this possibly be real? Can real grief even happen this many times to a single human body?”

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