Lessons in Gratitude Day 16

Today I had a really good cry. I didn’t know it was going to be good when it started, but it turns out it was. There was no particular “precipitating event,” I could sort of just feel it coming on. In fact, it has been a pretty good day. My son and I got up early this morning and headed out to the theater to see the new Harry Potter film. We arrived over an hour before the film was due to start–which was a good thing because by the time we grabbed a coffee and headed toward the theater there was already a line. (Ultimately we got really good seats.) I think I knew even then that a cry was coming–sort of like the clouds just beginning to gather on an otherwise sunny day.

After the film I rushed around, had lunch with a friend and rushed some more–several highway trips running necessary errands. As I was leaving from my last errand of the day, it hit. Pretty intense sadness. Rather than pump myself up or engage in one of the variety of the things I do to keep myself uplifted, I decided to feel the sadness, to let it completely wash over me. Without trying to analyze it or suppress it or get over it, I totally gave myself over to it and had a good, towel soaking, howling out loud kind of cry. I was home by myself (as I often am) and even the dog didn’t get up to see what the fuss was about.

In many ways, it was a storm that had been brewing for a while. And when it broke, as with a storm, once the energy was expended I found that I could breathe more fully and the world was a whole lot lighter than it had been earlier in the day. When it was done, rather than jump up and do something active, I remained sitting on my bed (across from the picture of my saluting Dad who’d witness my cry fest.) After a while, I played a game on my computer and chatted with an on-line gamer who has become a virtual friend. Even the act of chatting was calming and my gamer friend was kind and supportive.

Tears can be really wonderfully healing. I’d experienced what a friend calls a “grief burst.” Aptly named, that. I believe that’s what it was. I understood that my tears today were sadness and not depression–there was a totally different energy to them. I have no idea when the next storm may come, but I’m not afraid of it.  Now I am quiet, still, a tiny bit tired still, but oddly refreshed. I believe I’ll sleep well tonight.