Boxes
In the darkest corners of my mind are boxes. Boxes and boxes and boxes. They are carefully labeled and sorted and well-organized because sometimes it's a good idea to take out one of those boxes and dance with the emotions it holds. Most of the time, though, those boxes are best left alone.
There is a box that holds the sadness left from a childhood filled with neglect. There's no sense in waltzing with that box. There is nothing that can be done to change it. Just move forward. Acknowledge that it's there, but leave the box alone.
Another box holds a calamity of thoughts and feelings about various people who have failed me. An Aunt and Uncle who didn't intervene, grandparents who intervened too much, cousins who judged and found me inadequate, they all get lumped together and left in a box labeled "Not Worth My Time." They aren't, you know. Blood may be thicker than water, but sometimes bloodlines deserve to be severed with an chainsaw.
When something happens, I ponder and wallow and think but then I pack it all up and shove it in a box. It's a healthy habit, I swear. That jerk that nearly rear-ended me because he was too busy texting but then flipped me off as if it was all my fault? The anger from that encounter went into a box and was left there. There is no sense in carrying that anger around because then it can leak into the good things that are meant to be carried around everywhere. There is no sense in carrying any negative emotions around.
I choose to live a joy-filled life. Joy is contagious. Joy pays you back in dividends.
Everything else goes in a box and gets tucked away until the time is right for dealing with it.
But sometimes something happens and one of those boxes comes crashing out of its place, its contents spilling all over my purposely joy-filled life.
It took a while to pack up the anger and sadness left over from the miscarriage. I walked around for weeks mentally chewing women out for having the audacity to be pregnant or the nerve to be fertile enough to have five kids or whatever. It wasn't their fault they were dealt a different hand of cards and I knew it, but I needed to work through all of that anger. Eventually I managed to pack up that anger and shove it to the back of that mental closet, but I forgot to duct tape the box closed.
A completely expected announcement threw that box open a few weeks ago. I knew the announcement was coming and am truly happy for the couple, but none of that stops the gut punch that comes from having the contents of that box scattered all over my intentionally joy-filled life.
Some people have commented that it seems things are better. They aren't. At all. I'm fighting like hell to shove all of that stuff into the boxes where it belongs. As I wage that battle, I choose to focus on the things that are worth my time.
It's intentional joy. It doesn't come easy, but it's worth fighting for.
Monday, April 23, 2012
Reader Comments (17)
Some hurts just don't go away. They become part of us. You are right to choose joy, but you also need to let yourself grieve. I put stuff in boxes too, choosing joy, but pain does need to be dealt with eventually. Somehow.
Thank you for sharing something so personal, so beautifully.
hugs
Some things just suck.
That's all there is to it.
Perspective is a tricky bitch.
All I can do is just be here (way far away) but you know what I mean.
<3 you
THIS = beautiful
I could have typed these exact words since March 16th, 2012. My heart still hurts.
Hugs to you.
I believe as you do, in choosing to live a joyful life.
And I can say 6 years on down the road this pain has never made it into a box. (I've never used the box analogy before)
I don't know if I can't put it away or if I choose not to.
Either way, I think you should have absolutely no expectations for yourself here and just let what Is, Be.
More hugs.
this was wonderfully written and truly beautiful, yet i hate that you know such pain.
my heart hearts for your loss.
Your joy is contagious - just look at the pure happiness in Alexis's eyes in every photo! Your sadness - when shared - is NOT contagious. When you share it, instead of spreading to others it gets absorbed and it dissipates. Sometimes, opening the box is just what happens when life moves on. I'm sorry you're hurting. I wish I knew how to help.
Keep fighting for that joy. I hope that the fight becomes easier and the joy flows abundantly.
I hate that feeling. I try so hard to be happy for people who are pregnant. It's not their fault that I want what they have. Sometimes the box works, sometimes it doesn't. Sometimes choosing joy is easier said than done. Sometimes we need to feel that hurt and anger before we can move on. But, eventually it fades a little and is easier to fit in that box. Thinking of you and hoping you find your duct tape. :)
Yesterday, I was going to email you and ask you how you were doing. I suspected you would say you were fine-because that's what I did/do. But I know how hard it is to keep that box shut-how it unexpectedly opens even when you are not even thinking about it. You, however, are an inspiration to so many, especially me, to remember to look for the joy in life and keep taping up and sitting on those less than joyful boxes.
I know you know it, but Imma say it anyway: I might not have any practice with that particular box, but I'm still mighty handy with a tape-gun for all that. Just say the word.
I know that feeling. I was given a gift (a small musical snow globe thing, from Things Remembered). I can't bear to look at it, but I can't bear to have anyone touch it. And I sometimes still get angry and/or sad when my due date was to have happened. I don't know if it ever gets easier
I'm so sorry. I don't know your personal hell, but I do know the hurt of having a child with a disability. I, too, choose joy, because it's the best way to cope with the everyday hurt. It never really goes away, and just when you think it does, those gut punches come out of nowhere and send you to your knees. I still cry, even after 9 years. But I don't think we ever want to reach the point where it doesn't hurt any longer, because that would mean that we just don't care what happened. It hurts BECAUSE we care.
If you ever need someone to listen, I'm here. And lots of other people are there for you, too.
Oh, sweetie.
I know. I am sending love and hugs and everything.
Sorry. It sucks. I used to get quite bitter when someone would say they were thinking about having another and poof 15 minutes later they were pregnant. Even now, after my miracle Tessa, when I don't want any more children, I sometimes feel a little dark piece of my heart when someone shows off their fertility. Doesn't mean I'm not happy for them. I am. But still. But, as you say, happiness is a choice. Sometimes not an easy one but a worthwhile one.
I don't think the hurt ever goes away completely. It changes; it hurts differently after a year, two years, etc. Sometimes there is a trigger, or I just see things from yet another angle, or sometimes I revisit my own hurt to help someone else.
Despite three miscarriages, I was also lucky enough to be blessed with children. It's impossible (for me) to be strong and happy every hour of every day but I owe it to all of them--ALL of them--to try most of the time.
Wishing you continued joy... and comfort when you need it.
xo
Just read this post, or I would have commented earlier. My heart aches for you. I hope you can place those feelings back in the box soon, and find all the joy you deserve soon.