Once, in a dry season, I wrote in large letters across two pages of a notebook that innocence ends when one is stripped of the delusion that one likes oneself. Although now, some years later, I marvel that a mind on the outs with itself should have nonetheless made painstaking record of its every tremor, I recall with embarrassing clarity the flavor of those particular ashes. It was a matter of misplaced self-respect.
Joan DidionEverybody who undergoes a death and finds themselves grieving is obsessed with โ or maybe overly focused on โ the idea that they canโt display self-pity, they have to be strong. Actually there are a lot of reasons why you are going to feel sorry for yourself, but thatโs your first concern.
Joan DidionRight there is the usefulness of migraine, there in that imposed yoga, the concentration on the pain. For when the pain recedes, ten or twelve hours later, everything goes with it, all the hidden resentments, all the vain anxieties. The migraine has acted as a circuit breaker, and the fuses have emerged intact. There is a pleasant convalescent euphoria.
Joan Didion