vulnerability.

These past few weeks have felt especially full of weight.

For the longest time, I thought I was the type of person that adapted well to new things, people and situations. I moved around a lot as a kid, and I thought for sure that situation would have made me the most adaptable person there could be. However, as I get older and try to get to know myself more, I find that change does not do well for me. A change in plans, a change in the weather, a change in a job… I think – I know – that this is because I like to be in control. But I am also discovering that this cannot always be the case. Shocking, I know.

The most recent adjustment in my life is this transition in employment, from my job at Sanctuary to my new job at The Dale. I knew it was coming, and I actively participated in bringing about this change. However that does not stop me from feeling the weight of it. Sometimes the weight feels light and happy. When my friends surprise me with farewell cake and treats, cards that they’ve made and pictures they’ve painted. When people hug me and tell me that I will be missed and give me good wishes for the future. When they ask me to visit and make sure that we see each other again (which we will!).

But mostly, I’ve felt heavy. I think when I feel heavy about one thing, many things start to feel heavy for me. All the combined weights make me feel sad, the tears willing to fall even after seeing a simple commercial on tv. They make me feel unstable, more susceptible to sudden changes in my mood. They make me feel sleepy too, like gravity is pulling me down harder during the day.

The reason for my ramblings about all of this, is that my weights have got me thinking about vulnerability. Past Meagan would have tried (and still does, actually) to hide my sad parts away, tell people that I’m fine and hope that eventually I will feel light again. But I know now that you can’t feel light again without removing some of the weight and putting it down, and doing that means being vulnerable. It means telling people that you love, and who love you, what hurts and trusting that they’ll be there to take some things from you. I don’t know if this can always be done… sometimes you have to be with your sadness, and learn to be friends with it. Learn to acknowledge it and let it leave when it’s ready. But sometimes, you can give some of it to others to hold because they know how to put it down differently than you, or you can let it go when you open the curtains and windows and let fresh air in, or when you cry at the silly commercial on tv.

I have been listening to this band called Joseph lately, and they have a song called “Honest.” It goes, “There’s always two thoughts – one after the other: I’m alone. No you’re not.” I’m here to tell you (and myself) that it’s okay to feel the weight of your feelings, both the heavy and light ones. And it’s okay to let other people in to help you carry your weights. If they love you, they’ll want to be there for you. I promise. It might feel like you’re alone… no, you’re not.

-m.

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