Sometimes I don’t like crying. Who does, I know.
Medical Daily says it “releases toxins”:
It comes in waves at first. Short waves that come while I’m walking home from the subway; while I’m sitting in the office; while I’m washing my hair.
And then all at once it’s all there, and it’s intense and heavy and immense and every other word that’s listed under synonyms for “overwhelming,” but I just can’t let it in.
I think on some level my body is terrified to let it happen. My body / my mind, whichever. Maybe both.
They know it’s going to be bad. As if I’ve never been there before.
Our brain has a fascinating way of making us forget the things that hurt us…
But something tells me that it’ll be ugly and wet and exhausting and that the razor sharp eyeliner on which I pride myself so much will end up all over my face.
But after it’s over I’ll feel better. And a little lighter. And then I can begin to smile again. And I’ll feel like I’ve accomplished something.
That’s a feeling I like hanging on to these days.
“It’s all a sequence of small moments. And by being true to the small moment, something great arises.”
— Eckhart Tolle, via my beautiful friend Nadine