Permission for Sad Days
Have you ever not allowed yourself to be sad about something? Figuring you somehow didn’t have the right, be it due to choices made or not made, to missed opportunities or other such things that, really, you should have known better than to do/not do?
I was in such a spot this past weekend, that trying to not be sad because I felt I had forfeited that right, had lost it somewhere between a distant yesterday and many recent present days. And it’s not to say there are not things I could have and should have done differently. I think that’s what makes it harder to allow myself to be sad about a ‘never will be’ in this life. The knowledge I genuinely could have and should have done some things differently. That in turn makes it difficult to really be mad at those who offered help, but never actually gave it. Add to that thoughts of how I should have pursued that help, chased after it and begged and/or demanded it be given to me, and well …
It’s a pretty epic shame-guilt spiral, to be honest.
Then to see the evidence of those working hard and making sacrifices and refusing to let go of a longed-for reality; to have others (in all innocence) share how full their lives are because of XY and the words you hear are, “Your life is so empty and sad because you don’t have XY”, and well, again, it’s an epic shame-guilt spiral.
Until I decided I was going to be sad. I was going to be sad about my Never Will Be. I was even going to be a little bit mad. The simple answer is because it is sad, and a bit maddening, and frustrating, and something I have a really hard time forgiving myself for. And I’m tired of the weight of my guilty shame and shame-filled guilt.
So … perhaps for the hundredth time and definitely not the last, I offered myself forgiveness. I received it. And then I gave it to others.
And now? Now I can wonder what beauty could replace these ashes because there is still hope for new dreams and bright tomorrows. I’m not as sad. I again have hope.
There is still hope.