On Sadness

Over the past several months, I’ve spent time evaluating my relationship with sadness. Because I know it’s impossible to truly know joy without knowing the opposing force that gives it its meaning, the time had come for me to open the box from which the sorrows I tucked away have always spilled.

It had become painfully obvious that, because I hadn’t truly mourned my losses or properly grieved, the lingering sorrow was seeping out and contaminating my life. It silenced my laughter and paralyzed the part of me that just wants to dance.

Photo by Jen Conway

Photo by Jen Conway

By giving myself permission to be sad and ceasing to avoid the grief and sorrow, I’ve learned that it’s not the sadness that’s painful. It’s my resistance to it. And, because I stepped onto this path, I’ve begun to experience happiness and love in a way that was never before possible for me.

I keep this object, the Weeping Buddha, close by to remind me of the decision I made. I’m done swallowing tears.