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Estrangement Quotes

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Estrangement Quotes

“indelible waiting l'art poetique "..I will wait for the night to chase me..." I sit on a rock and watch children playing in the park below They don't see me Or know my thoughts Or that you haven't called But I forgive them their indifference today Above me a crow caws Perhaps he smells the crumbs on my dress Or my anger But he flits away over the trees Probably has a home Probably has a wife Probably knew to call The children leave The coffee in my can turns cold The wind nips at me Some street lights flicker on But I won't move Not yet I will wait for the night to chase me Back where I came from Up the empty street To a quiet house”

“Not only is domination paid for with the estrangement of human beings from the dominated objects. but the relationships of human beings, including the relationship of individuals to themselves, have themselves been bewitched by the objectification of mind. Individuals shrink to the nodal points of conventional reactions and the modes of operation objectively expected of them. Animism had endowed things with souls; industrialism makes souls into things.”

“To be soulbroken is to be filled with anguish that is brought on by the loss of our love, our relationship, and ourselves, and, often it is void of validation. If you know this pain, my deepest sympathies to you, not only for your loss but for how you've been hurting.”

“I know how it feels to be someplace you no longer belong, or to no longer be in the place you do belong, because that place has ceased to exist. I know what it’s like to be robbed of your foundation walls, how difficult it becomes to stand firm or stand at all, to provide others with protection. It’s impossible to imagine; it must be experienced, although best avoided. I wouldn’t wish it upon anyone.”

“There have been plenty of people in my life - family, friends, colleagues, lovers, a forecast of the usual suspects that make a person's social circle - but mine has always felt a little bent out of shape. None of the relationships I've ever formed with another human being feel real to me, more like a series of missed connections. People might recognize my face, they may even know my name, but they'll never know the real me. Nobody does. I've always been selfish with the true thoughts and feelings inside my head. I don't share them with anyone because I can't. There is a version of me I can only ever be with myself.”

“When he called she tried not to break down, but voice so often betrays emotion and her's wept, "He looked happy, even if I had to see his sweet little face from far away. I want him to be happy...even if his happiness is not with me." "That's love," he said. "Love," she repeated. "We love because we can lose." There is pain when we have to step away and some may say "You don't care," but little do they know, we cared enough to do so...”

“A friendship has but one chief adversary and that is envy. It is sired by resentment with the potential consequence of unresolved estrangement." She looked at the woman in conflict and said, "Do not envy her but imagine what it took for her to have what you resent her for. Would you want to embark upon her journey instead of your own to procure it? You notice her abundance but overlook her losses; do not envy her because she would rather have your friendship than your envy." The woman looked at her and nodded in accord, "And how do you do that?" she asked. The woman sighed in reflective thought. "By changing the way you think.”

“Years might pass and they might change, both of them, but she was sure she would still know her own child, just as she would know herself, no matter how long it had been. She was certain of this. She would spend months, years, the rest of her life looking for her daughter, searching the face of every young woman she meet for as long as it took, searching for a spark of familiarity in the faces of strangers.”

“For the first time in my life, I feel like I am being strong for the two of us, like I have broken free from those chains of lipstick and perfect hair and can take pride in my worn feet and the hair around my nipples. And I know that one day we will go shopping together and she will finally be proud of this body we both used to hate so much. I'm sure of it, because recently I have found it in my heart to forgive her. And because all of this is so very lonely sometimes, I have started to wear some of her old clothes, her cardigans and scarves--I was always too fat for everything else--and I think that's a sign that I have started to miss her in that place where I should have loved so long ago. And I admire nothing more than people who have found a way to love their mothers; I think it's the biggest challenge in life, the one thing that would make the world a better place.”

“গভীর রাতে ঘুম ভেঙ্গে যায় প্রায়ই। ছাড়া ছাড়া অর্থহীন স্বপ্ন দেখতে দেখতে হঠাৎ জেগে উঠি। পরিচিত বিছানায় শুয়ে আছি, এই ধারণা মনে আসতেও সময় লাগে। মাথার কাছের জানালা মনে হয় সরে গেছে পায়ের কাছে। তৃষ্ণা বোধ হয়। বিছানার পাশে পানির বোতল। হাত বাড়িয়ে টেনে নিলেই হয়, অথচ ইচ্ছে হয় না । কোনো কোনো রাতে অপূর্ব জোছনা হয়। সারা ঘর নরম আলোয় ভাসতে থাকে। ভাবি, একা একা বেড়ালে বেশ হতো। আবার চাদর মুড়ি দিয়ে নিজেকে গুটিয়ে ফেলি। যেন বাইরের উথাল পাথাল চাঁদের আলোর সঙ্গে আমার কোনো যোগ নেই ।”

“It is an absolute human certainty that no one can know his own beauty or perceive a sense of his own worth until it has been reflected back to him in the mirror of another loving, caring human being.”

“Man's nature, he postulated, was to be a "free conscious producer," but so far he had not been able to express himself freely in productive activity. He had been driven to produce by need and greed, by a passion for accumulation which in the modern bourgeois age becomes accumulation of capital. His productive activity had always, therefore, been involuntary; it had been "labour.”

“Strained Relations by Stewart Stafford Brother, you have flown from me, Too often and to that blinding maze, As capricious as the wind that blows, No visible shared blood between us. Are you not my mother's and father's son? If the fault lies with me, then tell me so, Or let the bloodied bandage fall from you, So the wound heals without reinfection. You picked prized strangers over family, More damaging self-flagellation as hubris, They let you down as parents an infant, Still, you chose a messy path of pain. The only glimmer of light in the next life, Is we two reuniting together again, brother, Or shall you flee to fellow astral travellers? A last dagger thrust in the permafrost cold? © Stewart Stafford, 2023. All rights reserved.”

“Nobody goes no contact with a loving, caring, gentle, safe family. They end toxic relationships because all the other alternatives were exhausted and unsuccessful. They broke connections to abusive people because it was their last resort.”

“THE NO CONTACT RULE: 1. Zero contact; face to face & online. 2. No phone calls. 3. No text messaging. 4. No attending events where they're present. 5. No emails. 6. No letters, cards, or gifts. 7. No checking their social media profile. 8. No contacting their family and friends. 9. No combing through old photographs. 10. No going down memory lane. 11. Zero communication.”

“The dysfunctional family relationships are disastrous. Poisonous. There can't be reconciliation. We cannot restore a destructive relationship with abusive siblings when they won't repent. Repentance requires them to turn away from their transgressions and evil schemes. In most cases, toxic siblings won't repent.”

“Anton does not have a need to give our home a touch of anything British. This British man living in this house, with his blind devotion to—his love affair with—not the Orient, but his idea of the Orient, colored by its history, its culture, its underdog-now-having-its-revenge role in world affairs, is all the British this house ever needs.”

“The mother who abandons her daughter leaves a pile of questions behind: Who was she? Where is she? Why did she leave? Like the child whose mother dies, the abandoned daughter lives with a loss, but she also struggles with the knowledge that her mother is alive yet inaccessible and out of touch. Death has a finality that abandonment simply does not.”

“A daughter whose mother chose to leave her or was incapable of mothering may feel like a member of the emotional underclass, like a dispensable part of society whose needs the government has ignored. As a result, she often develops a sense of devaluation and unworthiness even more profound than that of the daughter whose mother has died.”

“One night, we workers formed a circle around the tallow candle as it burned, allowing each other to bond by holding hands. It felt strange to connect with fellow people from Mira again. We have all become estranged from each other as we slave away for the woman leader. In our circle, we closed our eyes and prayed. I pictured the streets of Mira, adorned with the rugged rawness of our original footprints. We once stepped together or passed each other by, busy but comfortable with our work in various trades. Now we are anonymous, our identities stripped away from us.”

“Feeling and talking through the pain--the humiliation of being an unloved child, the anger toward the cold mother, the anxiety of turning into her, the fear of maternal retribution for hating her--became the healing salve. Where therapy was successful, these women came to understand that their mothers, who were unfortunate, inadequate, insecure people, did not have the power to hurt them anymore. If their mothers continued to act destructively, they could walk away from them.”

“We look to the East for a wisdom that we shall not use - and to the sleeper for the secret that we shall not find. So, I say, what of the night, the terrible night? The darkness is the closet in which your lover roosts her heart, and that night-fowl that caws against her spirit and yours, dropping between you and her the awful estrangement of his bowels. The drip of your tears in his implacable pulse. Night people do not bury their dead, but on the neck of you, their beloved and waking, sling the creature, husked of its gestures. And where you go, it goes, the two of you, your living and her dead, that will not die; to daylight, to life, to grief, until both are carrion.”