A sad thing happened.
It was the kind of thing that was shocking.
That you hoped would never happen.
That changed the rules…
And I wanted to ignore it…
And I sort of did until the inevitable follow up happened a few days later.
The inevitable follow up was good, though awkward. A little disjointed, and there’s probably more follow up that’s needed to completely clear the air, but it was good. Important. The first step towards healing…
But it just reminded me of how utterly sad I was that the whole thing happened in the first place.
And I needed not to feel sad – there was too much to do; all sorts of reasons why I needed to place this on the shelf – stuff it in the chest of Things Not Dealt With – until I could pull it out and evaluate it properly.
But I’m old enough (read: I’ve done this enough times) to know it’s like holding onto poison.
So, I texted my friend. The person who would most, if I was ready to talk it all out, understand how deeply I was hurt and how BIG the sadness felt.
It’s a weird thing texting a friend to say…I’m sad. And that you don’t want to talk about it, that you just needed to acknowledge the feeling of it with someone who would care. But that’s what friends are for, right?
I mean…I would want someone to text me those things if they needed to — IN A HEARTBEAT — I wouldn’t even want them to second guess that they would be welcome to send me something nebulous. If that’s all you have, that’s all you have. And as a friend, I am a witness to their life – as much as they let me be.
But still, to be on the sending side, feels weird. I’ll readily admit it.
And then, that was that.
I acknowledged the feeling and moved on with life.
Mothering and adulting don’t stop just because you’re sad.
But then, the next day, I saw my dad…
I was done with client meetings and preparing to lock myself in the house. With the kid safely at his dad’s house and my “peopling” duties over with, my plan was to jump back into my jammies, indulge in adult beverages and work on my TODO list.
Before getting started on my blissful Saturday afternoon, I stopped by my parents house to drop something off. My dad saw me and somehow knew.
He held me and, though I wasn’t ready to spill all the beans, it was nice to say it aloud, “I’m sad. And I am going to go home, put on my jammies, drink an adult beverage – and feel.”
I’m thankful that magically, at times like these, Papa Bears seem to know exactly what to say.
And to be completely transparent, I didn’t just sit around in my jammies getting hammered. I did develop. I created. I sang loudly to music and danced as much as my pain level would allow (more information about my current status with RA to come). I made chili. And baked banana bread with mini dark chocolate chips.
It was the kind of Saturday I needed.
And no, I don’t want to talk about it yet. But at least at this point, I am more open to moving forward than I am wallowing in the sad feeling.
How do you deal with sadness?
Do you handle it quickly or do you stuff it inside?
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