Let me be with sadness for a bit

Conversation in a Quiet Room
Hey sadness, it’s you again.

I hope I am calling you by your true name. Forgive me if I am not, and tell me what it is.

Anyway, this time you seem to be staying a bit longer than usual, knocking on my door more persistently, pacing back and forth making that clunking noise at the room upstairs. I hear you. Perhaps it is time for us to have a chat.

May I go first? Thank you.

You seem to be a fairly constant companion in life. I must say, you are a lethal combo when coupled with feeling of unworthiness, sense of rejection and long quite period – that persistent question(ing) of why me or why them and not me. A chaotic buzz in the brain and heart, whenever this happens.

You burst into the scene with a mere push of a button, unexpectedly. You come along with incidents which usually involve other beings and in particular other people, be it close ones, acquaintance or even strangers. Yes, even strangers. How can that be? Fascinating.

Still, your best partners-in-crime are my close ones. You’re nifty enough to know that. So you cunningly slip into their secret pocket and come as part of the package of the experiences.

The dear ones come and go in my life, for reasons that only God knows. Some stays longer than others. I cherish them dearly. They have strong affect on me. I often don’t realize how much. That is, until the times when those relationships take a startling turn and pin me down at a needle point in life.

That point, that space, is the least comfortable and not at all spacious. I realize how much I have cling on such relationships. I have mistaken them with something else. I have mistaken obsession, neediness, possessiveness, neediness, unresolved issues, past wounds, for love. It shows, more clearly to the other persons’ than to me. For this, and many other reasons, I duly apologize, to you.

Excuse me? Yes, sorry. I shall rephrase my previous statement. There is no way we can mistake love with something else, or something else with love. Rather, those startling turns have stopped me and ‘forced’ me to revisit what the relationships represent, and see myself more clearly. Those turns are there to help me go deeper within myself and polish my taste of Love.

I must confess though. Every time, the stories cut a bit deeper and get closer to the bones. Every single time, my heart breaks a little more. With that, the mind goes haywire with senseless scenarios of catastrophes. The body grows even more tired. So please be kind. Bear with me. It’s not an easy process.

It is not easy when the people I feel close with seem to be happier without me and prefer to be somewhere else with other people. It is not easy when my warm gesture (or implicit call for attention) are responded in a cold manner. It’s not easy when I can’t express myself truthfully, fearing the risks of such full expression. Seemingly so – as I know these perceptions and fear are only in my head. Interesting tales the mind can come up with, wouldn’t you think?

But I am glad this longer, rather intense version of you have come now, at this point of my journey, rather than earlier in life. Because now — despite of the tears, grumpiness, and occasional self-pity — I can greet you with “an unconditional confidence and relaxation and appreciation and sense of humor, regardless of the circumstances.” I still close my door, quiet down and cry, but I know I am okay, and I am okay with this process. I really am.

As a matter of fact, I am grateful for your presence. I trust that you have been sent as a guide from beyond at a perfect time, touching me on a perfect soft spot that I didn’t know. I know you are His response to my prayer to be brought closer to Him. I believe you have something important and astonishing to tell me about me, about my true self, and about being human.

So do have a seat, you and your friends, and tell me your stories—of me.

I am here. Listening, in the name of God, The Compassionate, The Merciful.

PS: I am writing this while half-listening to Brene Brown’s talk on vulnerability and listening to shame at TED.

The picture on this article is aptly titled Quite Conversation.

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