My eyes are shoved shut so tight I can physically feel the skin pulling taught behind my ears.
The first pristine pricks of the threat of a shattering cry are stabbing at the backs of my thin pulsing eyelids.
Even against the massive concrete resistance I’ve barricaded up, or maybe because of it, scorching tears pierce through and streak inky, crooked, blackened tracks across my cheeks.
Every drop of pent-up anger, shame, loss, greed, regret, jealousy and confusion plunges out of me onto the hardwood floor beneath my naked knees.
The toxic emotions that had been welling up inside for what seemed like an eternity – and yet surprised me with their volume – pour forth in painful relief, crashing out swells of hurt and excuses and lies I’ve told myself.
All the stuff I’d been avoiding and the stuff I had hoped would stay stuffed in caught up with me, rushing defiantly forward into tell-tale salt slicks rolling down my skin.
I could feel the tears tucking over the dimple in my chin, the hot pain of it, the hurt it takes to push through the tension and let go.
Even as I cry, I am also outside of myself. I’m in it and I’m next to myself at the same time. Somehow underneath it all I relish the beautiful, awful sensation of electric pressure that surges through my skin and bones.
And I have a thought that makes every shred of very weird, impossible sense to me:
This is exquisite.
In a way, how beautiful this anguish is. How holy this release, this divine intervention of sorts, this ethereal push to wring myself out of pain I no longer have to carry around with me.
It’s over now.
— ThePushDaily (@ThePushDaily) January 20, 2015
We want to be strong, guys, we all do. I want to be so strong and seem so strong and act so strong. I want to power up and tune in and ride on and woman up and quite honestly most of the time – I do it. All of it, just like you do. We do it damn well, too. (Yes, you know who you are, you powerful sexy minx. ;) )
But I’d be a liar if I said I am always that way. At some point we need to release the stuff we’ve been holding on to that can only come out through a deep, soul searing cry.
What makes us laugh, what makes us cry, what makes us embrace another, or embrace our art, or our lovers, whatever that thing is that makes us human also connects us with our spirit.
I’m the cheerleader, I totally am. Most of the time I can’t even help it, I am so passionate and exuberant and lit up about being alive. I adore that feeling when you know your energy has sparked with the energy of another human being, it’s incredible and it’s such a gift.
I know how important it is to live authentically, to be real. I know the only thing worse than holding out on life is holding life in.
There is something magic and tragic that beats in the heart of an artist who uncovers beauty in the light and the dark; who reveres the power of illumination as well as shadows.
So while we talk a lot of goodness about being positive and marching on and rocking out and not backing away or stepping off or letting up, we would also be wise to allow for the release when it needs to happen.
We’re so quick to judge ourselves and others for crying. For stopping, for ‘breaking,’ or ‘falling apart’ as though that marks the end, the final blow, our pitiful crushing loss.
But it is not the end.
The break down is often the break through. The dark side of the wound must be exposed to heal. There is an exquisite surrender in letting down your guard and relying instead on the strength of the Power who created you.
Confess, come clean to yourself when it’s too much to go at it anymore. Everything that you have been holding in hoping no one would see, invite that ugly stuff forward and look him in his weary eyes.
He’s not so bad. He’s tired of hiding, too.
Sit with your pain if you need to, look at it, surrender it. Nothing you bring forward to Love will ever be used against you. Hold it to the Light, feel it, let it be healed.
Tears are full of your precious life, they are worthy, too. Artists, creatives, spiritual healers, light workers, everyone in this world who is brave enough to feel anything deeply and often is vulnerable.
There has to be a space for the beautiful, ugly release of pain in our lives. Not for drama, not for show, not for manipulation, but for honesty and for integrity. For the sake of being whole.
There is a place for tears in being strong. There is a place for crying in being beautiful.
A sacred, holy, intimate place.
Letting go is the hardest part. Not letting go of the negative feelings but letting go of the illusion that you can save yourself by being strong all the time, by doing all the heavy lifting all the time.
Faith in your exquisite beauty, your inherent worth, is a gorgeous thing. Sometimes that faith comes in rainbows and sometimes it comes in cascades of tears and heart ache.
But the faith, the faith always comes.
~ ~ ~
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© 2014 Allison Marie Conway at Glory Begin