Emotions

I am staring out the window. This is the stretch where we always pick up speed. Droplets race each other down the glass. The song in my ears is soaked in sadness, and so a sadness sits in me too. But unlike other times, I am not trying to fix it. My instinct is always to fix or distract. Not today. Today I am not going to fix it, and I am not going to drown in it either. I am just going to let it sit inside me, like a bruise that only needs time.

Maybe when I get up for my run tomorrow, it will have dulled a little and my heart will feel lighter. This feels like the healthier way. Something I should have learned to do long ago, instead of numbing it artificially or letting it erupt as hurt for others.

So much of what I have done over the years has been an attempt to manage these emotions, when what I actually needed was to regulate them. Left to fester, they don’t disappear, they just find their way out as hurt to the people closest to me.

Last night, my son put his feelings into words with a clarity I didn’t expect, sobbing as he spoke. How his sister treats him. How his parents respond when he tries to reach out. It stung to hear. But then it struck me: there will always be moments he feels sad, lonely, rejected, and what will matter is whether he can find the words for it when they come. I am proud of how well he expressed himself, and prouder still that he chose to, so that we would understand. Watching him, I realized I have something to learn from my own son. The thought of speaking up like that intimidates me. I don’t think I could do it yet.

My daughter, much like me, is skilled at swallowing things whole and sitting with them in silence. I hope that even though I am bad at this myself, I can still show her a better way to hold her emotions. For that, I have to change first.

I will sit with what that change needs to look like.