Give me my grief

Today, give me my grief. Give me my anger. Trust that I know how to hold them and let them burn themselves to ash.

Because there are moments in life when that is the only thing we can do – let the intense feelings burn down the house of who we think we are.

Moments when the toll of the journey of life feels heavier and harder than your imaginary shoulders can bear. When the edges of sanity are clung to by fingernails. Moments when you stand at the edge of how much you think you can take, and a mere whisper of wind from the wrong direction can feel like it will tip you into an abyss.

To see that no one but life is to blame for the cruelties of your placement can make you question the fabric of everything in existence.

And so, give me my grief. Give me my anger. I’ve earned them.

They will burn out and consume themselves through me. I will re-find my center. I’ll be alright. I will come up from the depths of despair and down from the peaks of rage and move through this life and see beauty and love and light again. Maybe later today, or tomorrow, or next week.

But right now, give me my grief. Give me my anger. Don’t you dare try to take them from me. Don’t ask me to contain them, explain them away, give them meaning, or tell me anything about them. They must be experienced. I need to feel them wrung hard from my soul so I can be shook out and hung on the line to dry in the fresh, clean breeze.