Time and Patience

To each who left comments on yesterday’s post, I offer my sincere appreciation.

I no longer feel as if my chest is being ripped apart; my tears are no longer flowing and my sobbing has ceased. Yet, I am aware of the sadness that remains within me, the source of which I cannot determine.

Those who know me have said that I try to analyze my feelings too much—that I need to allow myself to feel without trying to identify the source. That is what I have attempted to do last night and today. I “attempted”—and failed. Even in the midst of the sadness that I still feel, I have been trying to understand its basis.

With the death of my father, I understood the cause of my melancholia. I am unsure of the source of my present despondency. It could be related to the death of my cousin, Larry. It could be related to the various losses I have suffered over the past several years. It could be, as Trish suggested, the bottle of (my feelings) overflowing: every emotion kept inside, denied...now breaking out.

I realize that my analyzing—my attempting to identify the source of my wretchedness—is counterproductive. If I were to advise some other person who is experiencing what I am now experiencing, I would suggest that that person allow the feelings to flow and, as Kylee suggests, go with it. Then, as Kylz commented, when I am ready, I will learn the reason for what I am feeling. My reasoning and adult self tells me that is on target. The sad little kid within me just asks “why” and wants my sorrow to come to a quick end.

At this moment I have decided to listen to the comments that the good folks made on yesterday’s post and, as T.E. wrote: Allow (my) self the time and patience (my) grief may demand.