When The Universe Says "Whoa Nelly"

The dust is settling. The dogs are with Bryon this week. As if in quiet support of my need to rest, work has slowed to a standstill and I am left with three things:

1. Me
2. My feelings
3. God

Normally this has the potential to terrify me, but I'm too tired for fear.

I have been given the time and space to grieve and feel sadness over all of the foundational losses I've sustained this spring: the end of my marriage, Elliott's passing, moving to Spokane. I will not -- in fact I physically could not even if I wanted to -- inflict further harm to myself by stuffing my emotions via busyness/booze/food/drama or pushing myself to do anything more than the bare-bone everyday basics.

I pray. I shower. I eat. I do the work in front of me. I take walks. I see friends. I watch some TV. I sit in the sun. I read. I write a little. I sleep.

And I allow these feelings of sadness that I wake up with in the morning and then shadow me throughout the day. I let them breathe air. How often I've resisted downtime for fear of what might happen -- what dangerous ghosts might unexpectedly pop up in the prairie dog town of my psyche. How often I've feared the company of just me, my feelings and God. But this flood was far too big to hold back with my saggy little leaky sandbags of control. And so the sadness flows and flows and you know what's most amazing? Feeling my feelings isn't the scary landmine I thought it would be. It's painful, yes, but it's mostly quite tender, poignant and, well, sad.

We're told the only way out is through. I know this to be true.

I'm grateful to be feeling rather than stuffing, denying or suppressing. Being present to myself and gently tending my emotions is the easier, softer way. I know without question it's the self-loving way.

I would love to hear how you care for yourself during tender emotional times. Or how you would like to!

(Photo by finley123.)