I forgot, until late last night, that I was “supposed to” write here. By the time I remembered, I had been crying for hours and felt too raw and too tired. Maybe Raw is a really good time to write, especially given the nature of this experiment in writing to heal. Alas, I did not, and here we are.
Day 3
I feel very Morning After this morning. And, I’m still fairly teary. A part of me feels weak, saying that, but another recognizes it’s a miracle. I almost never cried as a child – sometimes not for a few years (YEARS!) at a time. I could name the times in a decade in which I cried – on less than ten fingers, and almost all because of deaths. Crying now feels a little out of control, and yet the catharsis is more welcome than a pound of cookie dough.
What started the tears falling? Tension with a loved one, which turned into a full-blown, vulnerable “meltdown.” (But really …. a massive buildup over the last year, especially.) Honestly, though I was sharing with two of those closest to me and they are kind, loving and sympathetic, I still felt and feel embarrassed and ashamed. In a way, I feel a little relieved, because I have been trying to keep this gigantic beach ball under water for months. In another way, I just feel ashamed. Regretful. I wish I wouldn’t have gone there.
Why?
Conditioning. Years and years of conditioning. I was taught from infancy that I do not get to have feelings, or opinions, or care. I was taught that my job is to ensure the happiness of others, regardless of the cost to me; I do not count. Even though I know, now, that that’s categorically untrue, conditioning is a strong force and I am very much prey to it still. My nervous system still works overtime to protect me – it just doesn’t know that, now, annihilating myself for survival is no longer serving me.
So what do I do with these tears today? I think I just …. sit with them. Allow them. Grief has built up inside to the tune of thirty-or-so extra pounds, joint pain, gut problems, insomnia …. (list goes on) ….. my body is literally CARRYING the Unresolved, the Unexpressed, and the Unacknowledged. And to what end? It hasn’t earned me any friends, brought back any estranged family, or decreased my feelings of worthlessness and hopelessness. No, I think I will just invite it all in for coffee and empty carbs. Trying to keep it at bay has cost me everything and saved me nothing. Maybe the only way to save myself now, literally, is to feel the Unbearable.
I don’t like feeling like I may need a raft soon, and yet maybe tubing down a lazy river of collected tears is exactly what I need in order to find my footing on dry land …..
Anonymously Open 