I’ve been thinking about putting a pause on therapy for a while. I’m not working on anything in particular. In fact, I’m weary from years of sustained inward-facing self reflection and I’m not sure I want to take any more deep dives. At least now. And, all the talk, all the thinking, it’s a weird place to spend so much time. I’m ready to set that aside and participate. I feel like I’m missing too much that is too important. I feel like the kids are missing it, too, because I’ve been so absent. So consumed. I don’t want to be missing from my own life anymore. My kids deserve more. I deserve more.
I’ve spent immense time and energy trying to prepare myself so that I’m ready for every situation, should the worst and most challenging come my way. Got so consumed in that endeavor I forgot to appreciate the good I was missing every day. Then I forgot how. This saddens me. I’m sad that it’s so hard for me to get there. To get out of my preparation mindset and find a path to this moment.
It’s easy to fall in love with sadness, just a little bit. It’s one of the few pure and clear emotions I feel. Sadness and grief. Unambiguous, unmerciful, indifferent and acute. I wish joy could feel like that to me, or that I could feel joy with that much clarity. But joy is such a fragile thing for me. It’s so fleeting I often fail to recognize it. I have to wonder if this is part of what holds me back from engaging fully in life, that I don’t really seem to know how to find joy and hold on to it.
Maybe it’s just that sadness and grief are simply the last emotions standing in the midst of my exhaustion.
I likely just need to find a way to open my eyes to joy and to shut out the influence of that which I should avoid. Joy is here, after all, and all around me. I catch it in a photo every once in a while.