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I woke up this morning and felt heavy.
I haven’t woken up feeling like this for a while. I think it’s because I get really good at distracting myself—I dive into project after project.
But I woke up, and I didn’t have a plan. There was no to-do list or meetings or appointments, it was like I was floating, and the waves kept coming in.
Truth is, I was really apprehensive for my therapy appointment in the afternoon. I woke up feeling like I needed to cry, so I knew that there would be a lot of tears falling during the session and I wasn’t sure I was prepared for it.
We’ve already had quite a few sessions so far, but it wasn’t until last week that we started working into the deeper parts of my pain surrounding my dad’s health. And it takes a lot for me to really talk about my feelings as I experience them, rather than detaching the feelings from my words.
That’s often what I find myself doing when people ask me how I am or how he is—but I’m trying to find the balance between allowing myself to feel without being swallowed and distancing myself from my emotions so that it doesn’t hurt as much.
And it’s a process. Of giving myself permission to be, to feel, and to not be afraid to be seen or heard in those moments.
But this is where the real work comes in, talking about the uncomfortable things—my fears—laying them out on the table in the hopes that I can move with them and stop resisting them.
So, today I’m letting go of the need to control my grieving process and making room to allow the waves to break when they roll in.
Today, I’m choosing to swim instead of float.