Beneath the Surface

This week I've noticed that the deep, dark, strong feelings life brings around on the days we are strong enough to handle them are never truly gone.  They sit just beneath the surface. 

Like a needle digging out a splinter that goes too deep, events can poke into those buried feelings and spring a leak. 

If I watch a movie or read a book about grandmas I remember and miss my grandma.  Pansies, tractors, cows (especially calves), dragonflies and the simple life remind me of her.  I remember my visits.  I remember hot chocolate and Almond Roca.  I remember walks, talks and days in the garden.  The memories are as clear as yesterday and so are the tears flowing up from the deep places where I keep them buried because my sadness is simply to painful to bear for more than a moment at a time.  Even now, the tears have returned.  My husband is going to wonder what is going on as I work to push them back to the dark place and come back to the present where Grandma is no longer here.

I read or hear stories about people fighting cancer and quickly remember the pain I bore, both physically and emotionally.  I am forever thankful that pain is in my past, but the memory of it and the scars it left behind are still very much a part of me.  I suppose the pain is why I am so happy to try to bring hope to others who are on the same fighting journey.  I have not forgotten.  I know how difficult each breath and each step becomes in those dark places and hope to provide light.

I understand loss and I understand pain.  The other day, we watched a movie that threatened to tap into my dark place.  The tears tried to overtake me and all the pain and sadness tried to wash over me.  I held it at bay.  I don't know if it's healthy to keep it buried so deep.  I haven't forgotten it.  I know it is there every moment of every day, but the flood of pain and sadness is too great for me to bear.  I see glimpses of it when life pricks a little too deep or a memory opens a window, but for the most part, the pain drives me to find healing and the sadness drives me to find joy.

I know in the midst of your difficult journey, the layer keeping your pain and sadness from overtaking you is as thin as an onion skin.  It wouldn't take much for it to fly away, to be punctured, or for others to look too deeply and see through it.  I know the pain and sadness are ultimately healthy, but the weight of them is too much to hold all at once.  You learn to feel it in waves.  I used to feel it in the restroom.  No one was going to interrupt me.  I took a moment to feel.  I breathed deep, cried, then gathered myself to go out into the world once again.

Unfortunately, the beautiful memories driving us and giving us hope are often buried with the pain and sadness.  I pray you learn how to access both and to let the memories remind you of the beauty that has formed you and the sadness will give you strength to remember in the end the sadness will also be beautiful.

It's okay to be strong and it's okay to feel every little thing coming your way whether it's beneath the surface our spouting like a geyser. 
You are okay. 
You are amazing. 
You will be victorious.