I’m a crier. Hard core. You know, one of those people who can’t seem to hold it in AT ALL, who wells up even when she’s not sad. It happens when I’m mad, when I’m frustrated, when I see a mother love a newborn baby, when I watch videos of soldiers surprising their kids with an early homecoming,  or maybe when I’m too hungry and something super minor happens…like when they mess up my order at the pizza place. Well, come on…you can’t just PICK OFF olives, you know. That oil soaks IN, dammit. Anyway, I turn into a mess, and get emotional and it kind of bubbles up and ruins whatever conversation I was supposed to be having and turns it into feelings overload. Not a big deal with the soldier videos, but kind of a big deal when it’s from me being hurt or frustrated. Basically when my emotional expectations are not met.

That being said…I haven’t done that in quite some time now. Months, really. It’s actually kind of awesome to have this new sense of calmness about me. I mean, sure… I still cry. When sad things happen. Or when I think long enough about sad things. That’s normal. That’s what people do when they are sad…they cry. And I enjoy the cry when it’s about something beautiful. I don’t ever want to lose that type of cry. But, I don’t do much of the over crying about people not meeting my emotional expectations anymore. Especially when I want to talk to someone about something important. Last summer, every time I talked to someone I cared deeply for, about things between us that was hurting me, it always ended up with me hard-core emotionally crying, which caused them to completely shut down and run away.  I was trying so desperately to get them to see my point of view, and it simply was impossible. Frustrating, devastating at times, but inevitably impossible. Ugh.

A few of these people, well…we haven’t talked in months. In the weeks that followed us not talking, I still did all the heavy-duty crying, just all by myself. I was no longer trying to get them to see my point of view, but I still wanted them to. Or at least, I wanted them to understand my point of view, except that was never going to happen with all of my emotions, combined with their emotional unavailability. That’s an incompatible, yet common mix right there.  Anyone who’s been reading my blog understands that I’m a magnet for emotionally unavailable men because I was raised in a family of emotionally unavailable men. (Yes, it’s THAT easy to figure out!) I’m not sure if me crying to myself was better or worse. I’m sure MUCH better for them, but not so much for me. I still felt all those feelings, and had to hold on to them. Well, I didn’t have to, but I did. That is, until I didn’t.

Want to know how I finally realized how to not hold on to those feelings anymore? Letters. Yep. I wrote them letters. Long, organic, messy, handwritten, stained with tears letters. I poured the contents of my soul out in those letters. Vulnerable, raw and honest. I wrote all the things I couldn’t get out of my mouth, either due to crying, or due to fear, or due to interruptions or whatever other reason keeps one from getting their point across. I was able to say the things I that were eating away at my core. I got them OUT of my body, my  mind, my soul. When the words left me, they took the emotions with them. Emotions were meant to be felt and released, not ignored and hidden. Many of the things I wrote were things my insecurities would NEVER allow me to say to someone. But in those letters, I was free to say it all…the good, the bad…the ugly. Because, no one was ever going to read them. That’s right, I never sent them. Sure, I’ve sent people in my life plenty of emotional letters over the past few years…that’s what I do. I write. But these letters, these ones are different. These are therapy. These release angst and lead me to the path of inner peace, by gracing me with the gift of letting go.

Those letters, along with many other things I do for myself,  have helped me to let go of any expectations from people I love. I don’t seek validation from them anymore. I accept their decisions as things I have no control over, and that they are not any reflection of me. I only cry once in a while, and it’s just to clear out the cobwebs of sadness from them not being in my life anymore.  If I cry more than that, I’ll just write another letter…but I haven’t written one since December…

I can let go of anything now.

The Friday Reminder and Prompt for #SoCS May 5/18