The History Of Sadness

I woke up on the eve of my 37th birthday incredibly down in the dumps. The night prior I had an. . . .exchange. . . .with a guy I'm dating. Apparently, he felt it was his place to express what is exactly "wrong" with me. After unwillingly breaking down in tears in front of him, he was very apologetic. He told me it was coming from a place of "affection, resect and support." It felt like it was coming from a place of judgement, disrespect and arrogance. I cried on the way home and couldn't get myself to sleep. Probably due to my "chronic uptightness."

I woke up exhausted. You know the feeling. I shuffled to my couch, where I found an apology text on my phone. Fine, but I wasn't letting him off that easy. Things are better now, but I've experienced an overwhelming feeling of sadness all day. As a recovering alcoholic, feelings aren't my thing. Especially the yucky ones. But, since I can't rely on alcohol to numb my feelings anymore, i just had to sit with the sadness. It sucked. . .literally. Sucked all of my energy and motivation. I realized, however, that it was serving a purpose. My replacement go-to compulsion has been physical training (I have an eversion to the term "working out").  I'm involved in some kind of rigorous physical activity everyday. I'm training to be a yoga teacher, while also training for several road races ( two 1/2 marathons, a 5K and a 10K). I can't remember the last time I took a day off. I know rest is a part of training, but I find it difficult. Today. . .not so hard. This uncomfortable, deep seeded sadness FORCED me to sit on my butt all day. Except a walk for the dog. . .unlike me, HE needs to get his fat butt moving.

When I opened Facebook this morning, I noticed the status update of my friend Margaret Njeri. Margaret is a fellow yoga teacher in Africa. Margaret grew up in the slums of Nairobi, Kenya. Her update simply stated was "Am sad today." Instead of trying to cheer her up like her other well meaning friends, I commented "me too Margaret." I have a feeling Margaret's sadness stems from something far deeper than mine. Or maybe not. I just felt an instant "sadness bond" across the world. Different continents, same feeling at the same time. Her post made me feel not so bad for feeling sad. It's a valid feeling and you're allowed to express it. No matter where you're from or what part of the world you hail from. I feel ya sister-friend. I feel ya.

Finally, as a wrap up to my melancholy day (I finally got to use that word) I watched the movie Beginners with Ewan McGregor and Christopher Plummer. First of all. . .they should just give Mr. Plummer the Oscar now. I started watching the movie after giving up on The Tree of Life. I couldn't even begin to understand that frustrating fucking movie. Beginners is a beautiful, yet heartbreaking movie about a father and his grown son. At 75 years old, the father comes out of the closet as gay. A series of events unfold along with flashbacks. Ewan McGregor's character (the son) is an artist. He creates a series of simple drawings called "The History Of Sadness." Drawing of "the first sad couple. . .the first sad dog. . .etc". His friends and fellow artists don't seem to get it. At this very moment, I did. Sadness is an inevitable part of life. It always has been. It's a part of life we are constantly fighting against. Somehow, if we surrender to sadness, we've failed. We're pathetic. We're morose. We're dark. Today I realized releasing to sadness can be freeing, cathartic a necessary. But, like all things, sadness in moderation.

All feelings, good and bad, eventually pass. Today, I rode the wave of sadness. It was a choppy ride, but at the end of the day, I'm still here. Alive, breathing, living, typing. Giving thanks that I've made it another year on earth. Feeling gratitude that I didn't feel the need to drink to get through the day. Looking forward to seeing my beautiful friends tomorrow. And most of all. . .hoping and praying that Margaret is feeling better now too. Sending her compassion, sisterhood and love from the butt-groove in my couch in Wellesley Massachusetts. Two continents, one strong emotion. And it's OK. Surrender.

And. . .breath out. xoxo