You may not believe this if you only know me through reading this blog, but I don't always tell the truth about what I'm feeling in my deepest places. I give some of it up, sure. But there are days when I'd love to let loose.
To really let it out.
To scream it from the rooftops.
To rant and rage and cry.
Don't we all have times where we just get so fed up? Whether it's our own lives messing with us, or all the atrocities we see happening in our world?
I firmly believe that what I put out into the universe comes back to me, so I try to see the positive in most situations. But I also realize that holding back rage or sadness or fear does me no favors. Quite frankly, I know I don't have to be strong all the time. But somewhere along the line I told myself I had to keep quiet about what was really deep down inside. That if I did indeed scream from the rooftops and someone heard it, they would realize that I am not a fountain of strength and restraint. And if they realize that, where would that leave me? Who would I be then?
Therein lies the rub, my friends.
This post has no shiny, happy ending. It's just me, wondering if that hand will ever move out of the way completely. I hope so, but that look in my eyes says 'I'm not quite ready yet.'
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