december 19th, 2016

it was good for awhile — being empty. because being empty meant nothing hurt anymore. it meant no memory could touch me and nothing could pass through the walls I had so intricately set up.

but after awhile, it’s almost as if I could hear myself calling out. like I was begging for permission to come back again, to feel again. and that’s when things got complicated.

I wanted to learn to sit down with the hurt, to acknowledge it, say “I know you’re there, but not today, okay?”

to do that though is easier said than done.

because see, you get so accustomed to not feeling, to not reaching out and holding on to something tangible, that when you finally start, everything comes crashing into you wave after wave.

it’s hard enough to keep your head above water as is, but letting yourself feel every goodbye, every bad day, every thought that’s ever danced through your mind, is something that, until you’ve experienced for yourself, is incomprehensible.

it’s unnerving at first — being happy. letting yourself fully embrace, let go. it’s been so long (6 years, 7 months, and 19 days to be exact), that you don’t quite know how to act. life always seems to be a game of give and take. you struggle and suffer and fall until you almost can’t stand it anymore and you wake up the next morning and things are good again. you can breathe again. you get your temporary happiness, but this — this is different.

no longer is it a temporary home or a visiting friend, but something that sets up space in your heart and starts paying rent. something that feels like being content. because to be content is to one day be happy.

yes, there are still the bad days, but you know they won’t last. you take the sadness out for coffee and talk it out before packing its bags and shooing it out the front door.

there’s still a worry you’ll lose it all again one day, but for now you’re okay.

for now, I’m okay.


featured image via Salt and Wind