Where does the sadness go when it lifts away from my chest. When the heaviness is gone?
It felt giant. Total.
I realize it’s gone after days of it actually being gone. It being gone and realizing it’s gone are two totally unrelated things.
I look around for it.
I wonder what I specifically did for it to vacate. I’d like to do that more. Hold on tighter. I never find the source.
This pendulum just swings back and forth and it seems only thru new behavior, repeated, I get to expand the time it stays in one spot.
I’m starting to recognize what it takes and I’m past starting to be willing to put in the work.
I feel like I’m a small orchard. Planted, watered. Sun and cultivation. I didn’t produce any harvest that first year or more.
One day a small grape emerged, then another. I feel like I’m beginning to taste the grapes. They aren’t sweet yet. But they exist.
I’m am emerging. Sometimes because I really am and sometimes because I tell myself I am. Both exactly the same.
So where does the sadness go? I want to know so that I don’t visit it unexpectedly.
I want to know because part of me questions how real it could have been in the first place when it abandons me so irreverently.
I want to know because I can see for sure that the sadness made me sow the seeds that delivered this new but real harvest and I feel somehow indebted.