It is incredibly easy to get lost in sadness. To let it suck you in, and drown you. To let it envelope you. To get stuck in the sorrow. Wallow in self pity.
It can almost make itself seem normal. To live in the misery. The awful, the abyss, the pitiful.
To let the current drag you out.
To lose sight of the shore.
To find a home in hopelessness.
To live in your own head, letting yourself feed the tragedy, nourish it. Finding that somehow you had become comfortable in the delight of the distress. Making friends with the new normal. Welcoming it to sit and stay awhile. Serving it a heaping portion of yourself with out even noticing.
Letting it control the narrative.
Pulling the covers over and allowing the angst to surround you. The self pity feeling so good, not wanting to look away. Staying. Embracing.
But then you start to push the blankets off. You begin to step away from the cataclysm. The depredation, the wreckage.
Feeling incredibly empowered, and letting go of the cloak of gloom and despondence.
Seeing the strength and happiness in life. Wanting to live again.
Inviting, no, demanding the suffering leave.
Harking back on the reality that you can do anything, and not to let yourself get in the way.
The pity is over.
Ready.
Xoxo,
C.
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