I am so filled with emotion these days.
Filled.
Overflowing.
Every single pore seems to be seeping something. Like, my
guts want to explode outward. My heart and brain are working overtime and there
is no room in my ever-softening body for another ounce of emotion. It is coming
out all over the place.
I am brimming with joy. I am in the depths of despair. I am
anxious about everything. I am absolutely boiling over with rage. Oh, the rage
is real.
Anyway, three days ago, I stubbed my baby toe.
Like, SLAMMED that poor sucker into the extremely solid leg of our coffee table.
HARD.
In a true feat of timing, I carried out this perfect
exposition of awkwardness while ALL of the inhabitants of our household were in
the same room. It hurt so bad I felt faint. I laughed—what else could I do?
Hahaha, I’m all fine, nothing to see here—and carried on with less spectacular
awkwardness.
That toe is so many beautiful colors right now. It’s
probably cracked but I’m not heading out into germ-land to get it x-rayed just so
that they can tell me that it is, indeed, cracked and… sorry, there’s nothing
they can do for a cracked toe. I AM a physiotherapist, remember.
So yeah, the irony? I can walk all over the place in my bare
feet with zero pain, but the minute I put on my brand-spanking new Peloton
shoes to work that ever-softening body out on said very-expensive Peloton my baby toe shoots agony right up to my diaphragm, settling somewhere just behind my
bladder (another peri-menopausal story altogether), bringing tears to my eyes
and allowing a little more emotional leakage (thankfully, NOT other leakage).
My multi-coloured toe is taunting my tenuous stopper on my
emotional Old-faithful.
(aside…Peloton folks, one can only do so many meditations—gotta
keep up that streak—when one is sitting on a fault line.)
Anyhow. My toe will heal. But wow, that tiny stressor adds
so much more to the pressure within.
I’m sure I’m not alone. We’re all dealing with a gazillion
little stressors right now. Texas is frozen solid. There’s a new strain of
COVID each day. In the Canadian Armed Forces family world, posting season is
looming. So much to poke at our emotional strongholds.
Did I let that toe open the floodway? You bet I did.
Had a good old melt-down—privately, in the comfort of my own bedroom—and then kept going.
Emotions are there for us to feel them. They are
normal reactions to abnormal situations. I firmly believe in letting them out.
If you’re feeling, FEEL.
Feel it ALL. It’s yours to feel, friends. Keeping it inside
will not help. And if you need help, talk to someone.
Only once you have felt it, can you strap on those shoes and
get moving.
Brenda
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Brenda