Last night as I lay in bed I felt shame.
Shame for allowing myself to be sad and for voicing it when I have so much to be grateful for.
The saying ‘there are others a lot worse off than you’ came to mind.
Then I wondered – who then, is within their rights to express their sadness or fears?
The person who has lost a limb? But there is someone who has lost two – or was born with none.
The person who is undergoing chemotherapy? There is someone who is terminally ill with no resources for any treatment at all.
The person who has lost the love of their life? There are people who have never known love.
These thoughts flooded my head with examples ad infinitum.
My last thought before I found sleep, was the realization that I was looking for excuses for my behavior.
And that was unacceptable to me.
This morning, with a rested body and a more positive attitude, I was able to examine those thoughts without the end game being an argument for my negativity.
Sadness must be felt.
It must be because it is.
As simple as that.
It should never be discounted.
We should not tell people ‘you shouldn’t feel that way.’
Feeling pain or disappointment or fear is okay.
It must be felt.
Embraced – released – and remembered.
Letting go doesn’t mean you’re erasing something – it means you’re acknowledging that you don’t have to stay with it.
But to forget cripples our growth.
How are we to be grateful for good when we have not fully experienced bad?
How to know joy when sadness was hurried away? Brushed off as if it had no right to be on our shoulders?
As long as I can look fear or pain or sadness in the eye and ask the right question ‘What can I do about this?’ I should not be ashamed.
But never should I sit in discontent without voice or action.
Posted on December 16, 2013, in Gratitude, Uncategorized and tagged choosing happiness, discontent, grace, gratitude, joy, learning, sadness, voice. Bookmark the permalink. 2 Comments.
That second to last paragraph is exactly right – always. But there’s also something to be said for having acceptance when the answer to what can I do is: nothing. That’s often the really hard part, I find.
I love that you pointed that out. Funnily enough, as much as I overthink things – if there is no answer, and I know that – or if there is nothing to be done and I’ve exhausted all avenues, I can accept it. Truth I can digest. It’s getting to it that’s hard for me.