Tears are words that need to be written.
I’ve had an unexpected companion these past few months.
They sit just below the surface most days, and digging deeper rarely helps me see a cause.
At first I had thought they might be illness related, but now? Now I think that they may be the result of all of the emotions I have stuffed down over the years so that I could keep on working, keep on smiling, keep on helping, keep on coping.
I have rivers of unshed tears that go back to childhood, and before even that I am sure. Because I have slowed down a little, I can no longer ignore them.
So, I’m letting them flow.
They are not inconvenient, and they do not happen all the time. I am not wracked with sobs and misery. Instead, when they come, tears flow quietly down my cheeks, soak my shirt, soak my pillow, stain my face; often accompanied by feelings of loss or sorrow or melancholy, or a love so big I cannot explain it, and sometimes accompanied by a great emptiness that I cannot name nor enter.
I’ve taken to watching the kind of television series and movies that let me spill my tears readily, and that allow me to feel deeply what the actors are portraying. Books help too. Any kind of story where I can connect with a character and know their hearts and all that this entails.
Later I dream of forgotten things, or fly the night skies checking in on the ones I love. Sometimes I use this energy as I write or paint.
A strange tenderness sits just below my skin. I feel cracked wide open, and stupidly vulnerable. But that’s okay.
I don’t need to understand. I just need to feel.
Love and wonder, Nicole xx