22/06/2026
Today is a sad day.
I have no proof.
No heart-wrenching photo of me in tears.
No major event happened.
Today looks like the last four days. Time with family. Responsibilities. Decisions. Fresh air. Hot showers.
Except I woke up sad.
I sit with my sadness and ask her, What do you want to tell me?
She says it all. Talking until her wails become a whisper.
I ask, What do you need?
A cuddle?
A tissue?
A song?
She shakes her head.
I inhale deeply and nod.
She needs space.
I sit quietly and watch my sadness grow.
With each breath, she multiplies. Doubles. Triples in size.
She's finally so large, I cannot see anything else.
She's dark and heavy.
Looming over me.
Old me would cry in fear. Try to push her away.
Shout and rage. Judge myself for letting her get so big.
Not now.
Now I look at her openly. Lovingly. Patiently.
Sadness trembles. She inhales again…and deflates.
Much faster than she grew.
She shrinks. Changing from slate grey to dove. Then white. Then the palest, sweetest blue.
I smile softly at her and wave.
Sadness turns her head, staring at me one last time.
And walks away.
I know she'll return. I might see her coming.
Or wake to her beside my bed.
That's okay.
Letting sadness come and go means happiness visits too.
Yin to Yang.
Without one, the other cannot exist.
And then I would be numb.
Numbness is tempting.
And it's dangerous.
It's where you get lost.
Without fear or pain, there's no joy or love.
Every emotion fades.
So I open the door to my feelings.
Welcome them into my body, soul, and mind.
They show me who they are and why they're here.
I see them so clearly, let them become so immense, that even happiness aches.
Because life is meant to be felt.