Fear of sadness.
This is what I have. A fear of sadness. This day I feel it.
Both the sadness and the fear. I can’t tell which is more problematic….or if
neither are…
My sadness comes on like a room that is flooding…pooling at
the edges and crevices, distracting me from the other areas that remain
unaffected. My fear kicks in and is irrational and smacks of trauma.
The sadness pools in the corners and threatens to drown me
and the things I have worked so hard to create…the beauty, the peace, the love.
I fight the sadness: alternately ignoring the pooling and
madly soaking up the pooled sadness to get rid of it asap. It will do
irreparable damage. It will warp the good things. There is no space for this
pooled sadness.
I fight the flood.
I focus on the bright spots. I remember the good things. I
try my best to accept the warped wood from prior pooled episodes. It gives the
room character, right?
But it distracts and makes the pooling more likely in the
future…more crevices, more warping…pain leads to pain….sadness leads to
sadness…I fight the flooding...
I love who I am, most of the time, and try to teach my
children the importance of self love and self acceptance. Who am I though? And
how has all the warping from my past impacted my current self? By loving the
warped nature am I complicit in loving how it came to be? Can I love the
damaged but hate the damage? Where is the line?
The cause for my original warping
is largely out of my life, but the warped wood remains. I think I fight more
damage by fighting the sadness when it pools. But I think I am wrong. I think I
give more opportunity to the pooling sadness by reacting so strongly to it.
It may continue to warp me. It will be uncomfortable. It may
alter things. But it is a part of me and a part of life. What if, instead, for
once, I dove in to the pooled sadness? What then?
