what if it's ok to cry
... what if it's ok to live?
This week i'm walking through potential loss - and the uncertainty viscerally hurts. To be fair, the loss of trust of not losing, IS a loss, so that happened, and, then there is, what will the rest of it become? What will the aftermath be? Restoration, or deconstruction.
I pulled an oracle card - or more accurately, I picked up an oracle deck, imagined my ask for help, looked at the bottom of the deck looking up at me, and heard, yes this one is for you.
"Idealism," written under a childlike face with a small fox symbol. I teared up, I held it in - and the excruciating pleasure of holding back tears because of reality hit my body. I hated that control and pain, I enjoyed that control of pain. Of release of pain, that is.
And then, I wondered, WHY don't I want to cry? The house is empty, I have nothing to do for an hour - this is literally my own spiritual, grounding, somatic time.
Writing this, I can see that the control of pain / release of pain is / was intoxicating on its own. Subconsciously! When I was little, I didn't get a lot of conscious control of when I received painful words or watched painful arguments or was painfully rejected; why would I not learn, and learn to enjoy, the holding back of my suffering. I could feel it enough to move it, and then, STOP it, simply, totally. All done.
In that moment the tears moved a little of course, for me when I name or ask the thing, it moves; they moved and I said I don't WANT to cry, don't make me cry! Please don't make me cry. Once I could hear that voice, I could let the sobs out... and there was a quiet, tearful sigh. Lots of tears, and lots of sigh and sound. My little being that had carried grief and terror - and has done her part in other times to cry and scream and release - was scared of doing it again. Going backward to go forward. And she got to see, and I got to see - the grief and the terror wasn't THERE this tme.
I was just fucking SAD. It HURT. The tears fell, the sighs and sounds came, and I mourned. And it was gentle, and life-giving, and swift.
I want to write all the time, to document everything, to journal to my parts, to my soul, to the world. Today I am starting with this - one thing that happened to me today. I got to experience the surprisingly EVEN MORE INTOXICATING feeling of surrender.
Which apparently opened the space for action. Creative, swift, vulnerable, ridiculous action. I am starting a blog. If it was ok to cry, to feel, it might actually be ok for me not only to exist, but also to LIVE.