Letting Myself Be

I try not to get caught up in my current troubles, because I know it can only result in sadness, heartache, and frustration. But sometimes I let myself be sad, I let myself taste the heartache in the hope of finding some sort of understanding.

When I go through tough things, complicated things, troubling things, I internalize at first. I take it all in and think. I think about how it happened and where it started. I think about what could have gone better or what I could have done to prevent it. At first there are plenty of tears, millions of times where I shake my head in misunderstanding, thousands of sighs, hundreds of eyerolls, and quite often a red mark right above my right eyebrow where I keep rubbing my head over and over again. I don't know why I do that.

After I internalize I tend to talk it out with one of two people who know me so intimately, and I know they would never judge me but listen and honestly try their best to help me come to terms with whatever it is I am going through. One of those two people is my dear, sweet husband. He is the best friend I have ever had, the only person who holds my entire heart in his hands, the person I do not ever want to be away from, and my first, and only, true love. James listens. He holds me. He helps me feel better. I quite often become overwhelmed with emotions when I speak of him. He means so much to me.

After I get everything out, I then proceed to continue talking. In fact, sometimes I make myself sick and tired of my own voice and thoughts and try exceptionally hard to focus my attention on something, anything, else to calm the storm of anxiety, frustration, and stress inside me. It's much harder than you would think.

I know it seems like I talk about my issues a lot, and I do apologize for that. I would hate to think that I lose readers because I'm too fixated on something that is not very uplifting. When I go through tough times I can almost always come up with a solution, and then I set my sights toward the day when I am done going through it. When it's over I can most often look back and see the things I needed to learn from it, and then prepare myself better for the next time. The difference with this one is that I can't seem to find an answer. I can't set my sights on the day when this is over because I can't see it.

I heard a story once about a kid who had to run miles in PE when he was in middle school. He hated running miles. Laps were one of the most boring things to him, and if truth be told, he wasn't that good at it anyway. All the other kids in the class would run past him, seemingly becoming faster and faster while he became farther and farther behind. He had a system he used to get him through this torturous time and complete the task he was given. He would run the straight sections of the track field and walk the rounded sections on the ends. Instead of focusing on how many laps he had left, or how many kids had passed him, or how long he was taking to run he would focus on the section that he was on and only focus on that. He would pick out a pebble and tell himself that he would just make it to that point and then he would rest, and when he came to the pebble he would pick out another one farther off and do the same thing. His theory was that if he focused on the here and now he could get through; if he did it bit by bit he would ultimately finish the mile. He did this every week. He always got passed by others, he often got made fun of for being so slow, and he was always the last person to finish.

I don't know how many laps I've run. I don't know how much farther I have to go before I finish this mile. I can't tell, sometimes, if I am on the straight section or the rounded one so I don't know whether to run or walk. Sometimes I can't see a pebble with which to say "just get to that spot and then you can rest", so I keep going thinking that maybe one will come up. I keep going hoping to find out where I am. I keep going.

This is one of the hardest things I have had to deal with, and I think the reason why I feel that way is because I feel like everything has changed. I'm not myself anymore, or at least I don't feel like myself. It's been almost a year since I had to resign from a position that I really enjoyed. I miss the interaction, the work, the camaraderie, and the fun we had. I miss being able to do things that I used to do before. I miss singing. There is a crack in my soul where my song used to be. I keep trying to heal it, to repair it, but nothing is working. It may never heal properly. For now, I have a borrowed song, one that is not mine and does not feel familiar on my tongue. I keep hoping my voice will come back, but a part of me is trying to resign itself to the fact that it may never. Isn't that just sad? Someday, when we are all in heaven, listen for my voice. I won't stop singing. I won't.

I think for today I'm just letting myself be heard. Thanks for reading.