Letting it Out

One day last week, a friend of mine posted a song in her Facebook feed for a number of her friends that she had been praying for.  I had never heard the song before, but I owned other songs by the artist, so I clicked on it for a listen--after all, I was fairly certain I was one of those friends for whom it was intended.  Needless to say, it made me cry.  Not a little sniffle cry, but a runny nose, big tears falling without any help from me cry.  And as I sat there listening (and crying), I realized that I needed to cry.  I have been working so hard to cope and deal with what is going on by researching and looking at things logically that I have been shoving the emotional stuff down.  Way down.  I know I do it, in part, because I feel like I need to hold it together if I'm going to get through the day.  I'm afraid that, if I let it out, then I won't be functional anymore, and I need to be functional to take care of Lil' Bit; to work; to get the house ready; to remember all my meds and doctors appointments; to survive.

But, in that moment of grace, when the sadness leaked out, I remembered that I cannot truly cope unless I allow myself to feel--sad, angry, overwhelmed.  If I don't let those feelings out, they are just going to fester inside of me until I can't keep them down anymore--and then my functionality will really decrease.  When another friend did something nice for me later in the week, the tears came again--fast and unexpected.  It would appear that I can take heavy and sad, but anything nice sneaks past all my defenses and renders me vulnerable.  As a result, I have set a new project for myself.  At least once a week, I need to listen to music or do something similar that can eek past my defenses and let me really feel my frustration and grief.  Still, even knowing it needs to happen--even knowing that I usually feel better after I have done the work of letting it go--it's extremely hard.  I pride myself on my ability to cope; to get through the day; to be strong.  Crying feels weak, out of control, counter-productive.  My logical mind rages against the loss of (the illusion) of control.  My rational mind argues that I shouldn't bother because I don't need anything else on my to do list.  I'm hopeful that it will feel less like a burden and more like a spiritual gift but, even if it remains difficult, it's still worth doing.  Most important things are.