I have cried almost every day this year. The darkness I feel surrounding my heart is so heavy, and so dense. I have moments of light and insights, lessons from the great below while in this state, but I am still swimming between so many shadows.
I am sad. I am angry. I am frustrated.
None of it is caused by my external circumstances, but by my inner turmoil and confusion.
The people we love the most sometimes are those who don’t understand and can’t. Maybe no one can really understand another person. If there is not even one truth, if there are so many perspectives then it’s normal to feel and be misunderstood. The problem is when our wellbeing depends upon the external factor that others understand us, and accept us.
Here lies my biggest issue, I feel so alone in what I feel knowing it’s not true, but I feel it. And to feel it all, until the most painful fire burns me up into ashes is a practice I give myself out of love.
The kind of love only one can give oneself. The kind of love that can never be found outside oneself. The kind of love that loves the darkness and the suffering and let’s it be what it needs to be, when it needs to be. The kind of love I aspire for myself and others.