letting go…

How do you let go of something you can’t see?

Do you wait for it to show its face or brush past your leg and hope you get it before it gets you?

Before it grabs your heart in its fist and clenches your lungs in its teeth.

the hurts great and small, that settle in and get a little bit too comfortable around the chest area, {like a flatmate who moves in and pays no rent, eats your food, and kicks your dog…}

Yet somehow we can forget they are there. Minding our own damn business,

until you see that person who looks like the one that left, or someone else’s baby in the stroller, or the thousands of other little, unassuming reminders of what could {and should?} have been…

So fleeting yet they kill us in tiny ways. When we least expect it, too.

Does that mean we have to lie in wait?

That’s what got us into this personal hell of remembered pain and victim hood! Waiting for the thing to happen, making decisions from fear and not {self}love. Building a wall when {any idiot} knows that walls just don’t work.

But don’t try to make your life so easy, so pain-free that you never get to feel the hurt…

It’s going to hurt, make no mistake! It’s going to hurt coming out because it hurt going in*

but the breathing helps, and smiling, and letting the pain wash over you. It’s okay, you won’t die.

Trigger warnings are like Band-aids on cancer! The hurt’s still there and you’re just pasting on another plaster every time you refuse to look it square in the face (and breathe it away, and kicks it’s nasty butt) Pretending the hurt isn’t there is one option but not a good one if you want to heal, wearing it on your sleeve is another, not recommended.

or there’s letting it go…

letting it flow through your heart like a heat wave and out into the atmosphere is a good idea. You’ll need strength and help {you can find both, I promise} Give me that heatwave, even when I least expect it, and I’ll breathe it out, I’ll write it out, I’ll even sing it out, so I can have an open heart, warm but not on fire with hurts.

*Inspired by {The Untethered Soul by Michael Singer}

Feature Photo by Nick Fewings on Unsplash

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