I am accustomed to pain, to loss, to grief and the numbness that follows. Whether good or bad, healthy or not, I have found ways in my life to manage the complete familiarity of sadness and work through it. It may come as a surprise that such a crybaby as me is usually the one supporting and healing others and I know I come across as self involved and needy, and I guess I am, but I’m also a pillar of strength for the people I care about when I have the bandwidth to be useful. I may sound desperate and broken and hopeless, and I am, but I know that it will pass. I had a great therapist once who told me, in his firm and gentle way, that happiness, regardless of what we are led to believe, should not be the goal. It is one of many possible emotions and we simply cannot expect it of ourselves all the time, and that prising it above all else forces us to exclude other valuable and varied emotions. Sadness has a purpose. Anger has a purpose. They all count for something and all hold answers and questions that we need to learn. I’m nothing if not emotional. I’m 4 days deep in the loss of a pet and I can’t be bothered to shower or eat much (but then again, I also ate my feelings on Saturday, like a fucking champ). I’m failing to hydrate, meds are only happening because I have people around me who care enough to remind me. I could really go for a long, heavy, bruising spanking but I don’t trust myself enough to respect my own limits when I’m sad like this. I resist such activities when my mind set is “ruin me”, and not in a cute way.
Today, happiness is out of reach, so I will settle for comfort. I will take softness and the smell of clean laundry, the tickle of lace and the unfussy, comfy slump of soft jersey material. I’m a mess, and I need a hug that lasts until tomorrow. Story of my life. This too shall pass.
Every Damn Day In June is run by Hyacinth Jones of A ‘Dissolute Life Means …’, her sex, life and sex-life blog. Click through to read more!