words fail…

I’m glad I’m not a comedian, I mean, for a living.

There’s this huge drawback to the whole “heart on her sleeve” personality. I just can’t fake “happy.” I don’t HAVE to fake sad because to be honest I’m in constant touch with “sad.” Sometimes I think that “sad” owns this building and the rest of my emotions just rent space here. So, when “happy” is on vacation somewhere tropical I just can’t summon her. She’s out of range.

I guess there’s good in this. When you see me in person and ask how I am I’ll tell you, hopefully without emotionally vomiting all over your shoes but mostly I’ll answer honestly. I’m easy to read. I have always liked that about me, except when the sad is so strong I can’t speak. I hate that part…because I’m all words.

Anyone who knows me in person knows how I love to speak. I love words, I love inflection, I love the reaction. I love to listen, don’t get me wrong, words when I’m alone are not nearly as satisfying as words shared. I REMEMBER words more readily when they are spoken in communion with another person. That’s important.

It’s interesting to me that what leaves me when I get in touch with the deep sad is my words. I’m a warrior without a blade. I wonder what is in that. I wonder what lesson that has for me? Perhaps instead of just hating that part of me I ought to consider what strength that has, consider what gift it brings.

I have said before that in the face of grief that words fail. Maybe that is the lesson the deep sad has to teach me:
“Be here now. Feel this.”

That will take some practice but heaven knows I have opportunity to practice.


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