Of the myriad of emotional phases and stages of my personal grief, this is one of the funnier and far more chaotic and volatile. The justice-seeking, foot-stomping, tantrum-throwing part of myself just can't stand when other people tell her to move on or to let things go or to accept reality. There are other parts of me that feel differently to her as well. She gets mad at them and thinks they're stupid, too... which makes for a very interesting internal dynamic. I love watching her rage and flail and fight, though. She deserves to. I'm trying to find ways to honor her as well as the seemingly calm, kind, rational, and forgiving parts of myself. We strive for balance in this house.
Let me be clear, I am not fixating on my anger or dwelling on the past (it has just barely become the past, ffs). I really appreciated something one of my friends said that stood in pretty stark contrast to the general sentiment of what people have had to say to me recently - "You're allowed to deal with this in whatever way you want." I just loved that someone said that to me instead of telling me what I've always heard throughout my life. The mentality of letting go and acceptance is wonderful and the people who offer that advice are just as supportive and well-meaning as those who would encourage me to lose my fucking shit. But for someone like me, who has spent the majority of her life pandering to the whims, wants and needs of other people (practically willingly and automatically due to excellent socio-cultural behavioral conditioning), "let it go" is yet another abandonment of self.
Throughout all of this, I have come to realize just how much I fucking love myself. I'm busy having out-of-body experiences, watching myself process how the past three years of life have shifted so dramatically so quickly. The gears in my head are constantly turning, whirring, kicked into overdrive not only to try and understand what has happened, but to save myself from becoming a victim to it. Rejection and loss feel different this time around. Or rather, I am reacting to them differently for reasons unplanned and unbeknownst to me. I don't feel numb... In fact, I can feel absolutely everything.
Including fury. Including joy.
The points along the spectrum of emotion have become so distinct and poignant that I would go as far as to say as I feel a little bit unhinged... or in the process of going insane. But with alongside all of that chaotic and heightened energy, there is a deep sense of peace and calm. There is an unexplained and unfamiliar growing absence of something though... and that is fear. I mean, it is still there and it's not like I've forgotten what it feels like, but something tells me that it's not necessary to be fearful of anything right now. And that kind of contributes further to that unhinged sort of feeling... because now, it almost feels as though I have nothing to lose. I don't know if that's entirely or objectively true at all, but it is what I feel with unnerving clarity.
So now, back to my frustration around the 'let it go' movement. It really depends what mood (or phase, or stage) I am in when you throw it at me. Most times, I would agree. Even right now, as I've spent time writing this, I feel more accepting and friendly towards the idea because thus is the dance, the ebb and flow, of severe presence and consciousness. But then, there's the inevitable prickling - an internal growl of sorts - at the idea of justice not being sought after effectively. Because herein lies the problem (and it actually has very little to do with what I'm going through in and of itself)... discomfort and disdain for other people's negative emotions.
No one loves you when you're sad.
Well, the majority of people anyway. Because the majority of people are sad or insecure themselves, and when other people openly and expressively display negative emotions, it holds up a mirror - a mirror into a part of themselves that they are desperately trying not to face or even acknowledge. They don't do it maliciously, of course - for most, their disassociation and detachment from their own bodies and emotions make it impossible for them to recognize the cause of their annoyance at or resistance to your display of emotion.
I know that everything is going to be okay. I know that I am strong. I know that everything is working in accordance to divine timing and in my favor. I know that other people have it worse, and that in the "grander scheme of things" this appears unimportant. But hear me out, I'm not sad for the sake of being sad - I am not having a completely normal emotional response for a perfectly appropriate amount of time (and without the expectation for linear, one-time healing) just for the fun of it or because I think that my problems are bigger than anyone else's/that I am more important than other people. I am BEING sad because I have something to be sad about. I am grieving loss. I am disappointed. I am heartbroken. I am angry. (I am also happy. I am excited. I am grateful. I am blessed. But those emotions are not the topic of discussion.) Let me be human.
Stop being dismissive of other people because you constantly dismiss yourself because somebody taught you that you ought to.
Don't mistake my vulnerability and clarity of self for weakness because you were taught to be ashamed of yourself and to hide. You were just trying to survive then, and I'm proud of you for doing what you needed to do to get yourself through that, but you're not in danger anymore. And neither am I.
Funnily enough, the extreme and severe displays of emotion that you may have such an adverse reaction to come as a result of years and decades and centuries of repression and generational trauma. I refuse to contribute to pile on to that. Because the universe will always reclaim. What goes up must come down, and I would much rather fall from a molehill than a mountain.
So be wary of the advice you dole out and the true intentions behind it. Is it their discomfort or yours that you're trying to quell when you tell them to, "jUsT lEt iT gOo"?