Feelings That Sway – Time Is Irrelevant

There are days, many of them, when the hurt is really palatable. Almost so, at least seemingly, that I think the truly deep feelings of loss and grief and everything that is mixed in has eased to a point where I am over the worst of it. Sometimes when my heart is feeling lighter I do a number on myself: I feel guilty that I’m feeling better. Go figure … But other times I am okay with it and I do feel better.

I sit with my computer on my lap, like now, and I look at the photos I have of my mom and dad on a small table across from me and I smile at them and I see how beautiful they are, how lucky I am. I know that I would go through, live with, every emotion that engulfs me now again and again: that love, our love, is a forever and ever.

It’s funny, and I don’t mean the ha ha kind, how we play tricks on ourselves. I know I question myself and ask have I disappointed you, mom and dad. The numbers we play on our heads, on our feelings, can create unnecessary disruption in our lives, in our day to day functioning, in our health. I supposed somewhere deep down inside we toy with the thought that at some point along the way we came about not deserving to really allow ourselves to psychically heal: that in itself can physiologically harm us and we quite probably don’t even stop to consider that it might. And if we do consider it then, well, maybe we deserve it. Such possibilities, such thoughts: believe it or not some of them into my mind as I write even now.

I want to share as much as I can with you: new thoughts, redundant thoughts, questionable thoughts – the gamut of emotional play, or perhaps drama is a more appropriate description.

We have to forgive ourselves for not forgiving ourselves as contradictory, as awkward, as that may sound. There are days when I do even if I’m not sure what the forgiveness has to do with. In case you haven’t noticed, but right now I am rather jumbled up: another diversional way of trying to cope with my day. I think I am more mixed up than I care to admit sometimes. But I go on: I want to, I need to and I do. I am open to how I feel. I don’t believe I try to suppress or is it repress feelings. They sway. My control over them is stronger at times, and at times not so strong, but they are mine and in ways they get me through times. I would rather feel the emotions living inside of me than refuse them: that would be like turning my back, my life, away from all the love, the goodness, the depth of what I had and will always have with my mom and dad.

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