It’s still very hard for me to say how I feel.
It’s getting easier here, words on a blank page. I’m able to speak from the heart when I write. Very often I cry. That is one of the ways I know I’m speaking my truth.
But face to face connection, and I’m still a mess. There it is, the pasted on smile, the jokes, the sarcasm, the small talk.
Today, for example, I felt very sad. I felt like crying for most of the morning. I was edgy, and irritable, and not in a good mood at all.
But instead of just saying to the people around me, “Hey, I’m feeling really shitty and sad and I’m just gonna sit here and cry for awhile.”
I tried to act like everything was fine, like I was having a great day, hustled and bustled around, got the kids bundled up to go out, ate breakfast etc., etc.
And that made me feel exhausted, and frustrated with the cold weather, and even worse, because I just wanted to lay my head on Wil’s chest and BREATHE, but for some reason I just
” I feel sad.”
The air is poisoned, the soil is poisoned, the water is poisoned, the people and the animals and the land are suffering, corporations rule our government and the world, and they do not protect the interests of things that are alive.
And still, and STILL,
I just can’t make myself say when I feel anything other than blazing happiness.
And I’m sick to death of it.
And don’t get me wrong, I am incredibly blessed. Blessed to have a beautiful and healthy son, and a beautiful and healthy nephew. Blessed to have an amazing husband, and family, and friends. Blessed to live on this beautiful earth. I am endlessly lucky, and endlessly grateful.
But the good things don’t erase the fact that our ecosystem is collapsing, and nobody seems to give a damn.
And it makes me feel almost guilty to be sad, kind of ungrateful or something.
But I know that is just another way the culture of destruction keeps us in line, keeps us quiet. Grin and bare it, be happy with what you’ve got, other people have it worse than you, don’t be ungrateful.
And all of that bullies us into staying quiet, into complying with the rules, into saying we’re happy when we’re not.
Because if we admit that we’re sad, or mad, or anything less than overjoyed, we might have to take the time to figure out WHY we feel that way.
And that’s just too dangerous.
Although maybe something is shifting in me because suddenly I am finding that sometimes it feels easier not to see anyone at all than to try to keep up the permanent charade of happiness I can’t seem to shake.
And that’s new, because I’ve never felt that way before.
But I guess that’s also a characteristic of grieving. A hunger for solitude, a reclusiveness that separates the one in mourning from the rest of the world. A quarantine, just in case sadness is catching.
I am afraid to be sad, afraid to admit that I am anything less than happy all the time.
Because to be sad would mean that I am not perfect. It would mean I don’t have it all together, it would mean I am sensitive, and vulnerable, and in need of help.
And that’s terrifying, because my whole coping mechanism, my whole survival strategy in this world is based on being the one who is always fine, the one holding it all together, the one holding everyone else up.
And now, I’ve been playing that part for so long, I even have myself convinced.
But all that’s bullshit you know? Just a story I tell myself so I can feel superior to everyone, perfect, above reproach, free of guilt.
But I’m sick of this story. I’ve read it so many times I know it by heart.
I’ve got to start getting real with myself, stop this old song and dance, give up my go to mantra,
I’m fine, I’m fine, I’m fine.
So, instead I’m going to try,
I’m not fine, I’m not fine, I’m not fine
for awhile and see how that feels. See if that loosens up some of the old patterns I’ve gotten myself stuck with.
And if I don’t return your calls, or I cancel our plans, or I fail to reach out,
Please don’t be offended.
I love you.
It’s just that I’m in the midst of a dismantling of sorts.
And you all are welcome to join me,
if you have your own dismantling to do.
Perhaps eventually we will be ready to rebuild
It’s a matter of radical honesty I suppose.
We must be radically honest with ourselves, with each other, and with the world.
It’s the reality rebellion.
Now that is
Thank you for listening,
Tonight’s guest post is from my wise and creative friend Deanna. She’s also a mama, and a blogger, and wrote this thoughtful piece about TV and media and the affect it has on our kids. Deanna writes,
“You should create things for kids to grow up and into. Kids will rise to meet your expectations. All kids of all levels. If we give them fill and fluff and expect that to babysit them then that’s all we’ll ever get back.”
Thank you so much for your words Deanna. Please click the link below to check out the full piece on her blog, The Mother Load.