I moved to New York and built a new life. I found ways to earn money. I had relationships. I learned not to think that every thunderclap outside my window was Armageddon. And I wrestled with my spirituality — mourning, in a sense, the loss of the peace of mind faith had given me.
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I had felt so wholly deceived by religion, I saw no more worth in ancient explanations, in every old answer. I tried hard to make sense of a life without belief. Seven years passed, and I felt that I had done the best someone could hope to. I was O. I felt happy again.
In classical mythology and literature, seven years is an appropriate period of mourning. Maybe that was why the desire to create life began to gnaw at me. My grief over the loss of my belief system had run its course, and I was renewed, full of love for life, which felt even more precious now that I knew it would not go on forever. When my son was born, and I sat nursing him in the night, I was delighted to find that all residue of my bereavement was gone.
Life seemed limitless again, endless, continuing on in him. To have a child was perhaps a means of capturing that immortality I had lost. I no longer worried that I was getting older, because each day forward now would be with him, watching him grow. I would die first, and that made him immortal, for me. I would not see his end. My son was almost 4 months old when he stopped breathing at day care. It was his first day there, the first time I had left his side. Neither the doctors nor investigators could tell us why it happened.
Thus he became a story in a newspaper, big black letters in The New York Post, followed by tiny letters in paragraphs that spelled out sentences that twisted off the page and down onto the subway floor and into hell itself. That is, if there was a hell. Days passed, days in which nonsensically I lived while my son did not. I lived on drugs because the only day I could survive was one that was blurry and floated by untethered from life without my son.
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And slowly, over these days, came letters, like dispatches from another dimension, from people all over the country. They landed on my doorstep and on my computer screen. You could follow their pages on Facebook to get regular updates. Sunset by the Rhine. I hope you would enjoy reading them :D View articles.
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Overview of our cookies If you would like to know exactly which tracking cookies we use, please refer to the cookie overview. Episode 6 - Plight Of Monogamy. Phoebs gets hot and sweaty in the gym for the wrong reasons.
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Sarah considers whether she could do naked yoga and open relationships. The girls should know better than to Google space related theories and they wrap up the season with one goal; produce a banger that'd give Beyonce a run for her money. Episode 10 - Fact Living. The girls fall down the rabbit hole of self diagnosis from ADAH to chronic fatigue syndrome you name it, they've got it.
Phoeb's takes issue with the aiming abilities or lack there of of the penis and Sarah is forced to question her mortality.
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And finally we determine once and for all the Episode 9 - Sarah has a boooyfriend. Phoebe and Sarah divulge some secrets about their dating lives and their biggest regrets this week. The girls have big laughs over some surprisingly divisive topics and this weeks googles centre around intimate behaviours that should definitely stay private.