Little Griefs

If you are having a hard time with yourself, I understand. If you are cycling through the same, tired emotional responses to life and think you can't bear the turmoil or the shame for one more minute, I understand. If you make the decision to heave yourself out of the muck and things get worse, I mean worse than you could have imagined when all you wanted was serenity, take my hand. We can slump to the floor together, cry rivers of tears and swim  back to the surface as one. I understand.

The hard times and the annoyances are little griefs that were never expressed and never healed. These little griefs became emotional wounds that infected our minds and bodies. They play themselves out over and over again, trying to get our attention, trying to make us aware of just where our boundaries were shattered and love was denied. We need to set things right. And only we, ourselves to ourselves, can heal the wounds that have kept us overly cautious and afraid.

In our quest to heal those little griefs, our skin might feel flayed. We might feel criticized on all fronts, unable to relate to even our most trusted allies. We may seek solace in the nothing-but-honest-and-wholly-perfect company of cats or dogs or nature at large. We must find ways to safely express our love while we work through the task of remembering those 2 or 3 events from so long ago that  have dictated our responses in the decades since. We must give ourselves permission to grieve the lost child or the abandonment or the rejection or the humiliation. We must feel the loss and the sorrow without shame, we must give ourselves the love, now, that was denied at the time. That love, that self-acceptance will help us burst to the other side and claim ourselves.

It is a messy process, that reclamation. It takes time and patience. It takes determination to witness the neuroses of one's own mind and respond with compassion. Self-judgment will rise again and again. Giving up will seem  the best option. I understand. But seek, instead, those pockets of safety; the dogs and the cats, those novels, the knitting, the games and mind-relaxing crafts. Moving our bodies, as well, will help release the grief stuck in our muscles and cells. Dance, run, stretch, spin.

Do not give up.

Do not give in.

We have spent our lives giving in to the lie of not being enough. We ARE enough and only we, ourselves to ourselves, can declare that and live that from this day forward. Or tomorrow forward. Or whatever day we allow ourselves to pass beyond the grief and begin the sacred task of respecting and loving our beautiful and wholly-perfect selves.


{Blue and Creamsicle; two of my outlets for solace and love.}