Yesterday I was overcome with feelings of sadness. I felt over-full of too-big, too-many feelings. Like my insides were vibrating and trying to push out of me but couldn’t. Containing it was heavy and painful and my response was to check out. I was spaced-out and listless.
And here’s the thing, my mind was desperate for a reason, to be able to explain why why why is this happening?! What did I do or not do that led to this? What must I do or not do to get out of it?
And maybe there was a reason but my mind couldn’t come up with one that satisfied.
So it started in on the self-deprecation. You should be able to figure this out. Aren’t we beyond this? Enough already. Snap out of it. How are you going to get anything done when you’re like this. You have responsibilities. Focus now, you can deal with this later. You have no REASON to be feeling like this, no excuse.
And honestly? What a load of bs.
So I laid down in bed, threw the covers over my head, and I sobbed. And as I wept, my whole body shook.
I shook out the expectations. I cried out the responsibilities. I let go of the need to have a reason to fall apart.
Maybe it was just that I had been holding things together for a while. Maybe we don’t fall apart enough. I mean, when was the last time I’d cried like that? Too long ago, I think.
Because it’s healing, and it’s necessary. We need time and space and methods for discharging emotion built into our days, evenings, and weekends.
Anyway, that’s something I wanted to share in case anyone thinks I’m somehow beyond being an absolute bumbling snotty mess every now and then.
I’m not. None of us are. And that’s okay.