Sorrow

 1/24/24

“I see you. Over there. I haven’t forgotten. I need this time for them. It’s bedtime stories and brushing teeth time. I will come get you when it’s done”, I tell my child named Sorrow. 

I thought I had to banish Sorrow. I sent her to the darkness, and she yelled at me in defiance," WHERE HAVE YOU SENT ME? YOU JUST DON’T WANT ME TO EXIST! I’M HERE, WHY DO YOU HATE ME?" And her screams seeped out as my biting tone to a child who didn't comply, as my sharp tongue to my husband, as the weariness wanting to numb with scrolling, or food, or sex, or weed.

I hadn’t learned the darkness was inside me. Dear banished Sorrow was ever present, screaming from inside me. I thought she was banished to the Outside, but she remained Inside all along. Afraid I would never look her in the eyes. Afraid she was too ugly and too messy to ever be held by me. To ever be known by me. 

Sorrow, you are not ugly. You are powerful. I was afraid of your power. Afraid of your strength. It's strange how I believed your power and strength would be used against me. Now I know I was the one wielding them all along.  I don't have to fear Sorrow.