An Act of Love Leads to a Cathartic Cry
On Thursday, at around noon, I collapsed onto my makeshift cot couch and began weeping… crying… heaving. It was finally surfacing and exiting my body.
It is so funny because the straw that broke the camel’s back was an act of love. My sweet friend, N, sent me a lovely gift and letter in the mail. I remember already feeling on the edge of breakdown. And then I went downstairs, picked up the package, opened it with a letter knife, and just completely broke down.
When it was over, I played some guitar. I’m grateful for my guitar.
What happened?
Well, I think I knew my body was in the mood to cry. It had been two months.
And there was a perfect storm of emotions and things that just needed to be release:
- Anxiety, annoyance, and fear with being unable to breathe during yoga
- Tired
- Disappointment and frustration after getting confirmation about my situation at a doctor’s appointment
- Confusion over a kiss on a cheek
- Sadness over a boy
- Fear
- Judgment about my judgy self
- Hyper-awareness
And then this act of love. “Tay if you would like a mini surprise, I’d recommend checking your mail hehe”
And all I could do in response was cry.
Looking back, this was a really difficult day, and I am realizing more and more that it is very human and normal and HUMAN to feel this way.
When I think about it, I do feel that my goal isn’t to feel happy all the time. My goal isn’t everlasting happiness. My intention is to be. Be alive. Be present as much as possible. To notice what surfaces and to use those feelings and changes in my body to make a small decision or adjustment. To feel the full spectrum of emotions and experiences that is life. To allow life to unfold moment by moment by moment… and eventually the sum of these moments becomes my life… Is my life.
This is my life. Me. Living. Alive.
I acknowledge that this is hard to do… especially in the moment.
But I’m grateful for a good cry now and then. I’m getting better at letting the tears flow, rather than holding them back.
Crying reminds me that I’m alive. That I have felt some very strong feelings. How human. How complex. How beautiful to feel it all. To acknowledge, hug, and move through the pain.
To feel the feels fully… and then let them go. To drive through the forest, and experience the full expansion of the forest – the air, the movement, the crispness, the vibrancy of colors. I guess in this metaphor, if there’s a log blocking the road, I hope to acknowledge the log, slow down, figure out what to do, and take action, so I can return back to my drive. Something like that?
My intention is to be truthful to myself. Yes, I am experiencing sadness. Yes, I’m noticing my shoulders are getting more tense. Yes, that was disappointing. Yes, that was special.
It’s been helpful for me to label things as helpful or unhelpful, rather than good or bad. And I’ve found meditation to be helpful. Shocker!!! I’ve been avoiding meditation for so long that when my ex told me he was meditating twice daily, I thought hey, maybe this is the sign for me to start. It’s funny how things work like that.
Through meditation, I’ve realized that my breath is actually quite steady. Even when I’m about to explode on the inside, I understand now why I am perceived to be quite steady on the outside. It’s because my breath is steady even when I’m screaming on the inside. My body is carrying me. Supporting me. Doing it’s thing.
I’m still looking for a metaphor that I can use to describe my thoughts. Am I driving through a forest? Am I kayaking down a windy river? Am I picturing clouds as thoughts? Are my thoughts a butterfly that is flying around?
I’m curious. Let’s put this thought on the shelf and revisit another day.