Repression

In talking to one of my closest friends today, I realized something fundamental. I am a master of repression. Today, I fulfilled my New Year's resolution--the only one I made. I told the truth about a specific occurrence in my life. I came clean, and filled in the essential gap for someone in their understanding of me. And I also came to the conclusion that what I experienced when I finally realized the effect this event had had on my life was a release of all of the emotions I had been repressing since that day.

It was hard though. I spent half an hour at least planning to say it. And then another ten minutes at least, sitting in silence, her waiting for me to say it, just trying to get up the courage to utter the words I knew were coming. I knew I was going to say them, I knew the exact words that were going to come out, but I couldn't open my lips. I was absolutely incapable of saying them. My heart was racing. My palms were sweaty. I was looking away from her. I was afraid.

Why is it so hard to say something? Why is it so hard to speak the words? Saying it makes it more real. Yes, that's part of it. I wasn't afraid of being judged by her, so that wasn't a factor. But the "impending reality" of it doesn't explain why my heart was beating the way it was. Maybe it has something to do with the fact that I had kept this locked up for many months now. I don't know. Just like I'm still trying to figure out my reaction to what it was, I'm trying to figure out why it was so hard to say anything about it.

But one thing I have learned from all of this is that life goes on. It's always when we're in the middle of hell that we forget about this, and of course that's when we need it most. Things happen, and they rarely ever go as planned. We have no choice then but to deal with them and move on. Life happens. Here's a much-needed toast to making it through the hell that our life sometimes becomes, and may all who need it gather strength from knowing that it will be alright.