To start off, my life could be so much worse. My life could be plagued with tragedy and distress. That is so not the case. But since I tend to adapt very well to "having it good", when things get imbalanced, needless to say it effects my mood. The past month has been, for several reasons, more trying than the months prior.
I have always been a crier. I can cry at a drop of a hat. I hate it. I wish I could cry on demand, like an actress, but I can't. But when I am overcome with the urge, and that black, hard cloud forms in my throat, it is almost impossible to stop and seems to come when it's least convenient. The last time it happened was a few weeks ago, and it craved all my willpower to swallow my tears, that which was bound to turn into an "ugly" cry, and the clump proceeded to land like a lump of coal in the bottom of my stomach. It has stayed there since. It disturbs my sleep as well as my digestion. My threshold for stress is almost non-existent.
Yesterday's weather suited my mood hand-in-glove. It was gray, dreary, wet, and windy. It was spring at its ugliest, to be frank. I had to go to my sauna-on-the-sea. I needed the 180 degree heat (80 degrees C) to sweat out my frustration. And when I couldn't stand it anymore, I walked outdoors and submerged my clothesless body into the 40 degree water (5 degrees C).
It's like when someone who's gone into cardiac arrest is given those paddles, and a medic yells, "Clear!"
The shock of the cold literally froze my tension and cracked it open like a clamshell. The intense sensation of going from one extreme to the other purged my seemingly pointless, blackened emotions. I reminded myself as I afterwards rested my head against my propped up hand in the heat, staring through the window over the gray, choppy sea, that pain and suffering are an essential part of life's all-inclusive package. And the amount I've been dealt out thus far isn't even close to being unbearable.
Even so, that, too, will pass.
No comments:
Post a Comment