a spring cleaning

Yesterday I broke my own heart.

I realise that over the course of my life, this will be a minor heartbreak, a blip of pain, a tangy memory, but right now it's very real. I have done this before, I will do it again, and it's always different. Sometimes it's a single tear, sometimes it's a panic, sometimes it's a knot in my chest. Sometimes it's just too much.

I am a strong advocate of the therapeutic properties of a good cry. The pain of letting a wall of anger and frustration and grief form around you is far worse than just letting go and having a good, long, cleansing cry. I think that sometimes people are afraid to cry, afraid to see how deep their emotions run. My grief always manifests itself in a spider web of connecting thoughts, connecting lonliness that, on their own, are easy to tolerate, but as a whole are overwhelming. So every once in a while, like a sort of spring cleaning, I like to let it all go.

Free myself of the tangle.
And lighten up a bit.