Sometimes I have a total breakdown. Here’s one of those stories:
Kyle and I had just gone to bed and told him that I was feeling really upset and would he let me talk and comfort me?
I updated him on some difficult interactions (via emails) that I was having with several people, including newly re-established contact with a long-term friend who had hurt me deeply by not attending my wedding a few months ago.
But, as always, the issue is never the issue, and something much deeper started to bubble to the surface.
From zero to full throttle in 10 seconds, I was sobbing “why don’t people love me?”
Clutching my replacement teddy bear and dowsing my pillow with tears and smearing it with prolific amounts of snot, I bawled and bawled.
I have historically had a very difficult time allowing myself to cry, even to really feel whatsoever sad in the first place. Especially for the past year I have been intentionally focusing on feelings of sadness whenever they remotely surface and providing my Self the space to tap into that sadness.
I have been finally learning how to cry.
Kyle did an amazing job of sitting in the trenches with me, and seemingly suddenly, my body was racked with its last wail from Little Laura and I felt suffused with peace.
It is hard to decide which element is most fabulous about this experience:
- that I allowed my Self to feel sad and cry in the first place;
- that I have allowed Kyle to comfort me as opposed to suffering alone;
- successfully giving Little Laura much-needed voice;
- or that after first delving into Feelings, my Adult Brain was then free to think Thoughts about those Feelings and evaluate Truth vs. Lies.