In the spirit of letting go, allow me to share how I've been feeling.
Let me preamble this by saying that I am in no way proud or pleased with how I feel. I am in fact, sorely disappointed with myself for feeling this way. "I thought I was bigger than that," crosses my mind often and spirals me down to not feeling good about myself.
Twice this month, two people have come to me and admitted that there was supposed to be a surprise birthday party for me, which for reasons unknown, have not come to pass.
They came two weeks apart. The first salvo, if I may call it that, as that was how it felt although I know that was clearly not the intent, hit me hard. It engulfed me with such sadness all day that day. It made me feel that I was worthy of the thought of a surprise birthday party, but that I wasn't worthy of the actual thing.
The second salvo came to me in a most nonchalant manner, over dinner last Saturday. "By the way, tonight was supposed to be your surprise birthday party, but I don't know what happened."
I will say to you now, it would have been kinder not to tell me at all.
What do they want me to say or feel? That I'm glad to be worthy of their good intention? Is intention enough to make someone feel appreciative of a (non) gesture? Is it really just the thought that counts? I find it is not. I find myself thinking I wasn't even worthy of having it push through. I find myself feeling unloved.
You know what? I know they meant well. I do see their innocence. I do, I do, I do. In the same vein, I implore you to see mine as I share how I feel. Emotions are not required to give a damn about what is right or wrong. They are what they are. I find that I can't deny that I feel this way and I write this now because I want these emotions purged out of me. I want to look it in the eye and say to it "I acknowledge you. I see you. I get it." And having given it its due respect, ask it, respectfully "Please, leave the room."
Please, with all due respect, please leave the room.
"I am large. I contain multitudes." - Walt Whitman, Leaves of Grass
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