It's Okay To Feel Sad Sometimes

These Hellbores look like what sadness feels like to me.

When I was little, and I could be wrong about this, I don’t remember being comforted when I was sad. I do remember crying on my bed and having my three older siblings come into my room to “cheer me up” by tickling me until I laughed. It was a laughter filled with both rage and pain. My sadness did not feel seen or comforted. This is one of many reasons that I’ve had trouble my whole life identifying and feeling my feelings.

But today, I feel sad. And like a scientist who is unfamiliar with something, I am trying to explore its causes and identify its attributes because I still am slightly disconnected from my heart and just learning to allow myself to feel unpleasant things (other than rage, which is super easy).

I could blame my sadness on the fact that I woke up to a layer of snow on all my blossoming trees. But honestly, I went to bed a little sad. The snow made it worse.

All the news is definitely making me sad. The cruelty. Stupidity and meanness. The trashing of our global reputation. The open criminal genocides and disregard for the rule of law. I’m not sad for me personally. After all, I am a white person who saw this coming and put aside some cash, a year’s worth of regenerative organic coffee, and bought enough seeds to get me through a few years of seasons if I need to. And thankfully I never changed my last name when I got married. But I’m sad that people don’t seem to believe those of us “Cassandras” that intelligently warn of dangers ahead. And I’m extremely sad that I’ve learned through all of this that I can’t change a single mind or reason with people who don’t care to be reasoned with. And there are a lot of them.

I’m sad that women are being set back in our rights and freedoms, and that misogyny is so apparent that we can no longer pretend it doesn’t exist. I’m especially sad that plenty of women are contributing to the misogyny. It’s ugly and infuriating but mostly sad. And I’m sad for the good men who try to make things better but can’t, for whatever reason, and then get lumped in with all the bad men who could do something but won’t.

One of the reasons I am probably feeling this sadness is that I am not currently busy. I am between projects. My kids are all off living their best lives. It’s too early to “clean up” the garden. My house is in good repair. Busyness enables me to suppress my feelings and funnel them into whatever I am working on. Not being busy is a luxury, I know. But what do I do with this feeling?

It’s also an age thing. At 63 my body is no longer capable of returning to its glorious youth. Even though I work out and am strong, I must accept who I have become and find peace with that. I also have to accept that some relationships will never work out the way I hoped they would, and some heartbreaks may never fully heal. I have lots of good friends and I am not complaining. But it’s okay to feel sad sometimes! Here is a secret: writing is my best friend. It’s always there for me and never abandons me. You, dear readers, are the beneficiaries of my friendship with writing.

I know all the tricks to jump out of sadness: exercise, get out in nature, do something new and different, create something, plan a vacation or outing, and call a friend. I also know all the tricks to pretend I’m not sad: read an easy escapist novel, watch a TV show or movie, go shopping, bake, and eat something yummy. Those tricks now feel empty. Barren. Something about this moment is calling me to stay in the sadness, to learn to accept it and befriend it. What is it trying to tell me? What do I need to see that I am not seeing? Where do I go from here? Where do we go from here?

Even though I am the biggest proponent of trusting the magic and the trail of magic, it feels like I am waiting for something to happen. Can we really just go on like this as a country? As a world? As my mother used to sing in self-pity, “Is that all there is?” (Funny thing, that. I haven’t listened to that full song in ages and it’s the perfect song to describe my mother.) I’ve done a lot of work to unpack and heal my family trauma, as we all should do. But today’s sadness feels like a combination of all my own, and the weight of the world’s disappointment in the dream of America. We all know the dream wasn’t all real and all good, but we tried. At least some of us tried. And now it feels like a failure, which is sad. Especially because those who are happy about it are more than willing to kick sand in our faces and purposely hurt innocent people to make themselves feel superior. I’m trying to stay hopeful, truly I am. But it’s okay to feel sad sometimes.

Now, I know everything goes in waves. Today’s sadness will be next week’s joy. And if my kids call me out of concern I’ll say “I’m fine.” That’s what we say too often. In fact, I’ve been guilty of telling my kids “You’re fine” when they probably are sad and hurt too. Sorry, kids! I’m still learning. Sometimes we just want to be comforted and have a shoulder to cry on, even if we don’t know why we are sad. It might be the full moon in Libra or something. Or it might be spring fever. Or it might just be nothing. (Thankfully, I can no longer blame it on PMS.) Whatever it is, I am learning that it’s okay to feel sad sometimes.

Thanks for reading.