A Rough Day

Sadness boils up from my guts. I don’t even know what it’s from. Sobbing erupts as tears roll down my face. Not unlike the tears that rolled down my face when I sat in the lap of God. But this time it’s deep sadness I can’t even identify. If feels like the sadness of the entire world.

The thing is, I’m not normal. My body’s not normal. My consciousness is not normal. My internal radio is being re-tuned big-time. And the process is filled with pain.

There are very few people in my life who can even begin to relate. Yet their experience is theirs and mine is mine. I wish people could plug into my head and slip into my skin for even fifteen minutes so they could really relate. So they’d really know what it’s like. What it’s like to have their hips burn and their lungs heave wanting more oxygen, just because they’re trying to vacuum one room of the house or clean half the bathroom at a time. I want my husband to experience having most of the muscles in his back catch fire when he’s just trying to peel and chop some vegetables to cook one nutritious dish. Or fold a load of laundry. And I want my family to know how strong I am to feel painful emotions every single day, for YEARS without end, and not blow my head off.

My body’s not normal and I know it. There is no medicine or substance I can imbibe that helps me feel better. Yet my inner impulse keeps pushing me to my old medicine: food. I have less than no willpower when it comes to food because there’s a constant underlying feeling of discomfort ALL THE TIME. Thank God I’m not an alcoholic or a drug addict because I’d be dead by now.

The only thing that helps, other than sleep is healing work. And I’m not doing enough of it.

I sometimes wonder, am I particularly emotional because we’re at Solstice? Because the days are so short? Because of planetary stuff going on? Because. Because. Because. I’ve been on this planet for over half a century and for most of my life the only reason I paid attention to the phase of the moon is because it affects ocean tides. I never noticed any correlations to anything else in my life.

I guess if I could figure out the why’s then I could perhaps do something to help myself feel better. At least that’s what my brain tells me. My heart says it doesn’t really matter. I’ll feel what I’ll feel and all is as it should be. Even if what is is fucking miserable right now.

Even when I watch a funny movie or video and it makes me laugh, I sometimes feel like a robot. My body is reacting, laughing, but I sometimes don’t feel the funny. It’s really weird and bizarre. It reminds me of mental illness yet I know it’s not.

I really miss my glass half full self. I miss the eternal optimist. I miss the one who got stuff done. I really miss me.

12 thoughts on “A Rough Day

  1. I’m so sorry! I don’t know all of your pain but I know some of it. A couple days ago were the worst since it all happened. This is around the time of year when it happened and my life changed in one minute. It’s almost easier cos I’m alone and don’t have to pretend to be normal for anyone. I could go outside and sit and cry and feel so sorry for enduring the pain I didn’t deserve–for having my innocence ripped away. The pain came in waves and there was nothing to do but see it through. You are so very very strong. I hope this planetary shift or whatever it is eases up for you. Every day can’t be another dark night of the soul, right?

    Liked by 1 person

    • Thanks so much. I don’t know why this process seems to be an endless series of bringing up inner pain/disconnection that’s STILL happening. It would definitely be much easier if I didn’t have to live with a husband who’s never done a stitch of healing work (and who won’t) or deal daily with a son who has Anxiety and other issues he inherited directly from his father. I’m sure I pick up on my family’s unhealed crap at an unconscious level – I know of a handful of specific times when I spontaneously healed things that I directly picked up from my husband, son, brother, and sister-in-law when they were upset. Oh to be able to live alone and cry or rage when I need to. Lately, I’ll feel a build-up of intense emotionality and if I can cry it out, it’s like a pressure relief valve. Just scheduled some healing work for the morning.

      Liked by 1 person

  2. It sounds painful and hard what you’re experiencing…. Sending love your way. I’m glad you have some healing work on your calendar! Hope you can find/make places to let yourself just release… XO Adrian

    Liked by 1 person

  3. people never see the every day effects .i ha3ve m.e .migraines list goes on .,i was abused as a child .it helps a great great deal too have a good cry and a Runny Snotty Nose .. my blog.http;//mark-kent.webs.com twitter.supersnopper Happy Christmas,MARK

    Liked by 1 person

  4. I can relate to this, I believe we are all in a version of this as a collective. Another layer being peeled, an opportunity to dive deeper. I’m done enough crying lately for my own personal river. Allowing the flow. Writing to process it all. May you find some sacred moments of bliss enough to remember you are precious and loved ❤

    Liked by 1 person

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