What's more, I am keenly aware of my good fortune. I am deeply, profoundly grateful for my children, my parents, my wonderful friends, and my good life in this country. I do what I love, I live in a beautiful part of the world, and I am luckier than 99.9999% of people who exist on this planet.
But sometimes I do cry. And when I do, it is like unleashing a beast. The floodwaters break, and I cry tears for every grief and loss I have ever known.
Last night I had an argument with someone very important to me. In the scheme of things, it wasn't particularly significant. It was the kind of argument that we have had many times before. But I was tired, and took it badly, and when I was alone again I started to cry. Not the kind of gentle tears I cry when watching One Born Every Minute or when someone amazing performs on The Voice. No, these were great racking sobs that shook my whole body and turned my face into a squidgy red puffy-eyed mess.
And I stayed like that for nearly two hours.
When I cry, it triggers the deep well of pain I still have within me, the pain I will carry for the rest of my life. the pain of missing my sister, which is buried in a place only accessed by the key that is my tears.
On a conscious level, I remember how much I miss her when I am feeling sad, because she was always there to comfort me when I had a problem or needed support.
But on a far more primal level, sobbing unlocks that grief, like picking a scab off a wound will cause it to bleed. And the only thing left is to cry it out until the tears have passed once again, and the grief retreats back into that safe place in which it lives in my heart.
This morning I woke tired and low, hungover from a night out on the sobs. So then I went back to sleep, and started the day again a couple of hours later. And now all is restored in my world, and in my equilibrium.
We can endure. We can be happy. We are stronger than we think. We need to feel what we need to feel, when we need to feel it.
And then life begins, anew, in all its fortune and wonder.
Yes. Pain is a jerk like that, burrowing in to find the well of it, even if it was just surface pain earlier. Please take my internet hugs and love.
ReplyDeleteI haven't lost anyone close to me so I can't understand the depth of your pain, but I understand the need to sometimes just let loose and cry because something small has triggered an avalanche of emotion that was just waiting to be released. Crying is good for you, no matter how blergh we feel (and look!!) afterwards. Sending you good vibes and a beauty tip - white eyeliner is your best friend :) xxx
ReplyDeleteI actually feel we keep things bottled up too often...crying is therapeutic (if exhausting).
ReplyDeleteIt hides in that great big empty hole in our hearts... that pain, it fills that huge hole in our hearts, and overflows through our eyes. It happens to me, in the shower, walking into a store, seeing the shop close where I bought her last birthday gift, sweeping the laundry floor, now!! THIS MONTH, EVERY SINGLE DAY... At least I can tell my family (who don't seem to understand) that's it's menopause As the saying goes, this too shall pass. Love and hugs for your pain. As my Mum says, "Pop on some lipstick and a spray of perfume"... apparently it's the go-to feel-good.
ReplyDeleteYes ... I had one of those days a week or so ago ... it was hideously awful at the time, but I was so much better the next day. I always say ... you can't start climbing out of the well until you sit in the bottom of it for a little while and get your strength back. xxxxx
ReplyDeleteHugs Kerri. I really do think there is such a thing as a floodgate behind which all our past pain builds up and has to come out. I hope that every time we let it out with such a big sob session that there is a little less left behind in our heart.
ReplyDeleteBig love darling. Xxxx
ReplyDeleteGlad you are feeling better! Yes, last week was like that for me - arguments about politics and opinion pieces (of all things), and bursting into tears when others didn't either agree or understand why I was placing so much importance on them. Made me reflect on what was underlying my reactions - some deep seeded issues to sort through. So in a sense, a positive outcome, but painful none the less ... (and you are so right about how much better we are than so many - reading about the Nigerian girls this week has really brought that home to me)
ReplyDeleteI do this too and the worst thing is when a well meaning person wants to know why you're crying and you can't explain that it's not for one specific thing, just everything and you need get it out. Glad you're feeling better. xo
ReplyDeleteOh I hear ya. Once you pop you can't stop.
ReplyDeleteAnd sometimes we need to do just that - to remember, to cry and to be restored again
ReplyDeleteBig hugs and lots of love to you! I am sometimes triggered unexpectedly by feelings about my being adopted. Fears of being rejected or abandoned. It's tough. I'll bawl my eyes out when I least expect it! Any kind of loss is tough and I cannot imagine what it would be like to lose my sibling (even though my own husband has and it was awful I do realise it's not quite the same as knowing what it really feels like). You are amazing, just know that. Grief is a weird, unique process for each of us and sometimes you just have to let it take you for a little while - better than bottling it all up xoxo
ReplyDeleteBeautifully said :)
ReplyDeleteSometimes we have to cry; to sob. It is a release - we have to let it all out...and choose not berate ourselves for doing so. It's not weakness...in a way, it is strengthening. A good flush out not only clears the pipes and drains...it clears us out, too! It's necessary...even if draining!
ReplyDeleteI'm a bit late to comment but had to anyway as lots would relate to your words Kerri, (and so eloquently put). Feeling guilty about feeling down is common too I think, especially when we're told to 'count our blessings'. There are always others worse off but we can know this, yet still feel horrible.
ReplyDeleteI understand that a seemingly minor grievance can trigger the floodgates and you then grieve for other much more profound stuff, in my case losing my husband. Sometimes...often the crying is cathartic and you can 'pick yourself up' and get on with it.
Love those last words and I hope you are finding your "fortune and wonder" now, Kerri. :)
I totally agree, that we need to feel what we feel when we feel it.
ReplyDelete'A night out on the sobs' what a perfect way to describe it, and the puffy hangover that lingers after the tears have dried. Beautiful.
ReplyDelete