I'm having a bad night. It just hit me out of nowhere. I was fine all day. But suddenly, I fell off the cliff.
Tears fall. I am annoyed that I am STILL crying about this almost 6 months after the fact. I want to move on, and in many ways I have. I've had a few set backs in the past week, but I thought I was dealing with them pretty well. That was true so long as I was so busy I could barely find time to sleep. But now...now, I have time to think. Too much time to think.
I just read that in order to heal, you have to feel. Is that what this is all about? Is that why I feel like crap tonight? Because I am healing? I am scratching my head on that one. So following that reasoning, my tears are good. They are helping me heal. That's like telling a child who is being punished "this is for your own good".
Aside from feeling far too sorry for myself, I am actually doing quite well most of the time. I'm worried about paying for college. But that's a daily concern. At the moment, my house is clean, my work is done, and I am sitting in front of a beautiful fire listening to my favorite radio station with a glass of wine. At any other moment in my life, I'd be loving this. But at this moment, I am blowing my nose and feeling sorry for myself. What a waste of a perfectly good evening.
Oddly, there is something about writing here that is therapeutic. It makes me feel better. Funny how such a silly thing can actually lift me out of my sadness. A little, at least. And on this night, a little is a lot.
