A Way Back To Life

In the darkness I gasp for breath. It's always about breathing. So interconnected are the heart and lungs that one cannot feel without the other. There is a slow and inconsistent fluttering in my chest. It is a bird in a tiny cage, trying to stretch, but it keeps flapping its wings in too small a space. Hitting the walls of my heart and bruising them. And then it rests, saving up strength to flutter again.

The fluttering is so gentle. How can it bruise so deeply?

The bird tries again. This time it is hitting its head against the wall. Desperate to be free!

"Stop!" I beg. I try to explain that the more it fights the more it hurts. The smaller the space will feel.

One breath. But it's too tight. I can feel the air as it fights its way free.

"Stop fighting me!" I cry. "I know. I can feel your suffering. You are part of me."

Quiet. Feel that. Patience. Rest.

But the beating grows faster and there is a ripping as the breath disrupts the bird in its cage and it panics, a whirring of wings and talons. And again I am running, trying to escape my heart and lungs as they overwhelm me from within.

The running does nothing to calm the wild bird or bring new air to my lungs. There is no running from the pain. But neither can I look the aching little bird in the eyes. There is no explaining. Will it ever understand?

Peace. Be still.

It always comes back to the need for rest.

Be calm.

But you cannot calm the storm. The winds and waves consume. There is no calm.

Go back. Go back! Move forward. Run. Flee! The emotions storm and pull. Everything is moving every which way at once and there is no peace. Wind beats against me. Salty waves crash over me, wearing me down. I cannot get free of these waves, and I am battered again and again and then I hit something solid and instead of pain it is something to grasp and I cling to it and clamor desperately for strength, for freedom, for light. A rock among the waves and the moment my head breaks the surface I can feel warmth. A wave crashes again and I am battered down below, but I felt the warmth. It is there if I can only stay afloat. And instead of fighting for the surface I let go and I can feel the strength of the rock and I climb on high. Once I am resting above the waves I can feel the full warmth of the sun drying me, warming me. Saving me.

"Fear ye not, stand still, and see the salvation of Jehovah, which He will do for you today." (Exodus 14:13)

The Gray

This time I was surrounded by blackness. It wasn't that total black that makes you think that there just is nothing around you. It was a dull gray. A painted gray. It was real, but an absence of color that was swirling all around me.

Before there had been something to reach for, something to focus on, but here, everywhere I looked was darkness. It wasn't sad or scary. It just wasn't.

I sat down. It wasn't tumultuous. I guess it was still. But I didn't feel panicked. I didn't feel worried. I didn't feel scared. I didn't feel bored. I just didn't feel.

I don't know how long I sat in this gray, misty substance, but I had no desire to move. I could have just drifted off to sleep and it would have just been effortless and calm. But as I sat there was a prick inside me and I doubled over and opened my mouth to speak but instead endless air rushed in to me, filling my lungs and expanding my chest. It felt so good that it hurt.

I was now crouched in the grayness looking around me for something, anything to focus my eyes on. I began to panic. Everything around me was the same. I felt stuck and despite the life giving breath I had just received, my breathing became shallow and I gasped for air even though the air around me was as clear and pure as any I'd ever breathed, but it hurt as it came in my nose and throat. It was like my nostrils had forgotten what it felt like to breathe. Every breath hurt and at last I had to put my shirt over my mouth and nose to keep the fresh air out. My shirt worked as a filter and I could breathe in this clean air without the intense pain.

But now I noticed my shirt; it was the same gray nothingness and so was my skin. I let out a dull scream as I stared at my dead looking hand. "Help" I breathed. But it came out as a rasp.

I tried again, but I was still coughing on this fresh air and couldn't fill my lungs anymore. I was afraid to breathe deeply. It hurt. But without the air I would not be able to speak. I lowered my shirt from my mouth and breathed in deeply. The pain ripped at my throat and the first sound out was a silent scream.

I tried again and took a more cautious breath. Was I getting used to it? I felt less light headed and more ready to feel.

"Help!" I tried again, and the sound carried a bit more. With a bit more practice I was able to breathe more easily and began shouting.

"Help me!" I cried. "Can anyone hear me?" but there was no answer. Even my own voice did not send back a comforting echo. I was completely alone. There was no sound but me. And now I could hear my breathing like it was right by my ears and I screamed and tried to burry my mouth and ears with my gray arms.

I stayed like this for too long. Curled up in a ball facing the ground. I only moved because I felt warmth on my back and it scared me. I cautiously crept out of my hiding and noticed that the grayness was being replaced by a yellowness that seemed to be seeping in around me and encompassing me with warmth.

I didn't like it. The grayness had become a sort of comfort and even though I wanted the grayness to end I wasn't sure that I wanted this instead. It felt invasive.

It was getting brighter. I put my hand up to block the light, even as I looked toward it, and gasped because my hand was flooding with color.

I dropped it and looked down, but my clothes were still gray and the brightness was still growing.

"Stop!" I whimpered. "Stop! It can't be so bright. Stop!" But there was nothing I could do. It kept growing and my eyes began to ache even though I closed them tightly. I was not in control and as soon as I realized this I realized that my breathing had become shallow and scratchy. And I remembered that my breathing had been the one thing I could control. I couldn't control the intensity of the air I breathed but I could control the depth. I tried again to focus on that and as I breathed I saw the lightness begin to slow and hasten as I breathed in and out.

Was I controlling the light? but as I looked into its brightness I knew that it was not me. I could only control my reception of it and so I took a slow deep breath and saw the brightness approaching in equal measure to my breath.

I closed my eyes and listened to my beating heart.

Entitlement to Neediness

When things are busy and lots is going on I don't write so much. That might make sense. Yeah, maybe I don't have as much time for writing, but that's not really the case. I mean, it is true that less time means it's harder to fit it in, but the real reason I don't write is because I don't have enough brain processing power right now. Like, I'm stressed about so many things that I can't tell if some small thing is actually stressful or if I'm making a bigger deal out of something so small because I'm stressed. It's just not a useful time to analyze my life.

But here I go anyway....

Sometimes I can't tell if I'm being a jerk or just standing up for myself. There's obviously better and worse ways to handle a situation. Kinder and meaner ways.

But I can't always tell if my reaction to something is founded or if I'm taking out my stress on someone else.

For example, sometimes I want people to give me their attention, and I don't know if I'm just being needy. Because I need them to meet me where I'm at. Like when I am stressed out and need someone to listen. Do I have a right to make a friend listen? "Make a friend listen" might seem like too strong of a statement. A real friend will listen. But always? How often do they have to listen to me, or are they allowed to have their own life and not have time for me? Are they allowed to be in a jocular mood or preoccupied with something else?

See?! This is what I mean when I say that now is not the time to analyze. I know, in my rational brain, that of course other people have lives and sometimes they are willing to listen and sometimes I listen to them and friendships are reciprocal.

It's just so much easier to feel like I have a right to talk and be heard when I am stressed out. But being stressed out does not give me some entitlement to neediness.

But sometimes I just need to unwind and it would be nice if I could come home to a cozy fire and a mug of hot chocolate and have someone say "How was your day, honey?"

Tracing the tears.

How often do you let tears fall where they will? I always try to stop them, sometimes before they even start, or if I let them fall I try to catch them with a sleeve or a tissue. But when they fall uninhibited, do you notice where they go? They don't drip nicely from your eyes. They slide in interesting patterns. One just slid along my nose, and hit my nostril. Do tears flow up? What's with that?

One tear followed and dripped right across my philtrum to my closed lips. And I can feel the salty tears stinging my chapped lips. I cannot taste the salt because my lips are sealed. But I can feel a few tears pooling on the verge of getting in.

One falls along the curve of my chin, and though it originated in my right eye, it has crossed my entire face and is slipping down the left side of my neck.

Tears do not fall down. They seem to defy gravity, or at least get themselves into fascinating situations if you let them. I am sitting straight, not tilting my head to change the patterns. They fall where they will.

Notice the tears; They create their own paths, like lightening across a sky.

Sleep and Avoiding Things

"Dudette, feelings are allowed."

What? This is news to me. Ok, I know I sound like I'm being sarcastic, but in some ways I really am being serious.

I write about feelings a lot. And yet I definitely don't understand them or know if they're useful or should be listened to or felt.

But one thing I do know: They are real.

That doesn't mean they're valid, but I've already written about that.

But sometimes feeling are felt, and sometimes I try not to feel them because they don't seem useful, and sometimes I feel bad for feeling things so sometimes it feels better to just avoid them altogether.

Avoid them altogether. That's what facebook is for, right? Scroll, scroll, scroll. Avoid, avoid, avoid. I don't want to be left alone with my thoughts and feelings. Nope. I'll swipe open this little box I'm holding to find things to distract me from having to feel things. Oh, I see a sad thing and it makes me sad, but at least I'm reacting to the sad thing on facebook and not facing my own feelings about anything. Avoid, avoid, avoid.

Now it's time for sleep. But I don't want to turn the light off or close my computer, because that means I have to let my brain takeover, and heaven forbid I do that! That would mean I'd have to think about the things in my mind. Or feel the feels in my feelings. AVOID!

Ah, my audiobook. Excellent. Now I can just tune into that, and tune out of my world.

Ok, the above is kinda bleak. Don't get me wrong, escaping into a book can be great. I really don't have a problem with that. Sometimes I cry when I'm watching a tv show because it hits home and there's a realness to it that I can relate to. That's all well and good. I don't think books or movies are bad things.

But I know that I can get into a rut of thinking that I need my audiobook to sleep. And sometimes I do. Sometimes I cannot get my mind to slow down unless I give it a familiar enough book that it's not worried it's gonna miss anything if it falls asleep. Sometimes I do need my audiobook to sleep so that I don't get my mind tangled in knots of worry. Sometimes I do need to distract myself.

When something is true it's a lot easier for it to get warped into something false. I can justify an action by pointing to some truth as proof. But I think everyone knows that there's such a thing as too much of a good thing. Kombucha is good for you. But you shouldn't drink it all day every day.

Sometimes I just don't want to deal with my feelings, and "Sometimes" can turn into "never".

I never want to deal with my feelings. I want someone else to deal with them. Can someone else please deal with my feelings? Fold them and put them away? No? Okay, then I'll just continue to avoid them.

"Mr and Mrs Dursley, of number four, Privet Drive, were proud to say that they were perfectly normal, thank you very much...."

Isolation: An Introvert in Need of Quality Time

Christmas is a busy time of parties, sugar, alcohol. And lots of people. Let me tell you, there are no shortage of people! People, people, people! And I love the people! I love the Christmas parties. I love the Christmas cookies, the lights, the friends, the fun! I love it all.

On top of all that I'm in charge of the Christmas pageant which has over 100 people in it. And I get to spend time with these people. Starting tomorrow night I have rehearsals every day. And a week from today is the pageant itself which thousands of people come to.

It's a lot. But let me repeat, I really truly love every minute of being there! The music and the people, the readings from the Word! It is a special time! And I love it!

But soon after I leave a rehearsal, or after I leave a Christmas party I need to recharge. I'm an introvert and I need time to recharge. The problem is it's December. Rehearsals and parties and people, people, people. I love the people. Have I said that enough yet? Probably some of those people I love will read this and I want you to know that I really do love and appreciate you!

I am an introvert. I am not a hermit. I am not antisocial or a people loather. I just need time by myself to recharge.

But here's the other thing, I also desperately need human connection. And no matter how much I love my time at parties and rehearsals, that's not quality time.

Well, it is and it isn't. The parties and the people are quality! And I long for connection so I seek out the people... and then I feel isolated. Because no matter how much I love the people, I need a break.

And I don't turn in to a recluse, because I am miserable if I am all alone. I feel drained from people, and I miss them all at once.

I long for connection, and I'm not sure what that looks like when I am so burnt out.

It's like I desperately need human connection, but exactly on my terms and I want other people to exactly anticipate my needs. I can't explain anything, because I don't know myself what I need. I just know that I need humans, and I also can't handle being around them.

And all of this leaves me feeling extremely self centered and needy.

And those feelings make me feel worse about myself.

And so at last...

Isolation.

No Agenda

I keep thinking my blog posts have to have an agenda, or cover something, or talk about what's going on in my life. None of those things are wrong, but I created this blog to write. And if I'm worried about filling some specific agenda I don't write.

So today, I am going to write the crap and not care if this post does nothing.

Sometimes I just want nothing.

Life is busy. So many things to do, so I'm avoiding them. Jk. I'm not even. I just paused writing this to send a few more emails and texts and add something to my to-do list. Haha. I can't even avoid anything.

I'm sitting at Starbucks. My eyes are tired. I should probably nap, but if I know me, I won't.

I have to go food shopping. I'm going to visit a friend. I'm going to make dinner. I'm going to chill.

In other news, I think I'm kinda broken. Maybe not, but I've trained myself not to cry for so long that crying when tears press on my eyes feels super weird, but I'm trying to re-train myself and just let the tears come when they push to get out.

So now I cry always. Like way too much. Not about anything either. Pretty music at church? Boom! Tears. Reading TCR? Boom! Tears. Like multiple times. In public!! Thinking about tears? Boom! Tears! Stress in my shoulders creating massive headache inducing stress? Boom! Tears.

All the songs from Wicked are stuck in my head. Not actually, just all the good ones. "Too long I've been afraid of losing love I guess I've lost!"  "And now whatever way our stories end I know you have re-written mine by being my friend!"

Sometimes when I start writing I get on to something and then I write something interesting. This time it's a total random.

Hello world, time to go buy some veggies!

Just Breathe

"Just breathe," he says.

But I can't, because the colors are closing in around me. I can't even describe what colors they are, because there are too many and too close. I can't distinguish between them anymore, and my breathing is shallow. Or maybe it's not even there anymore.

I don't remember the last time I took a breath. And I am dizzy. Too much is pressing in on me and the colors are swirling faster and faster.  I can't focus on anything. I have to make it stop. My head is going to explode.

"Just breathe," he says again.

And one rickety breath escapes my lungs.

But my mind is still a fog. I want to collapse because there is no breath in me, but instead I start running. Running from the mess of colors trapping me in. I feel sick, and there is a tightness in my chest, but I must keep running.

All of the sudden water is pouring over me and I'm coughing and spitting it out. It's like I ran in to a waterfall that wasn't there. And I look around me, trying to find the source but I cannot see. The water is flooding over me and at last I try to gasp for air but all I get is a mouth full of water and I'm coughing and sputtering and I double over trying to find dryness to breathe in, but the water is choking me. I am drowning.

"Don't stop. Keep going."

But the water is pounding down on me, knocking me off my feet. I am on my knees, trying to crawl out of this mess but I am so wet that I am more liquid than solid and I can't crawl. I feel like I am oozing.

And then I am falling. Sliding, being carried along by this strong current. I'm not sure if this is pleasant or miserable. I still don't know if I'm liquid or solid, but I am moving. I had tried to move forward, but now I was being washed away. Down didn't seem like the right direction, but at least I was moving. And as soon as I had this thought the water began rushing me up. The current was pushing me up until it spat me out on a dry bit of land and I coughed and at last sought the breath that I had put off taking.

In with one great gulp and my brain begins to clear.

You are worth more than many sparrows.

Frustrations abound. For no reason. One little thing sets off another and suddenly a little confusion in today's plans throws the whole future into disarray.

I am worrying about next week and the week after and all the things I have to get done before Christmas. Yes, Christmas. I have had Christmas on my mind all summer. Mostly the Christmas Pageant/Tableaux and all the things I have to do before December even begins. Costumes, casting, and building an entirely new platform/stage.

So, that should not be stressing me out on a random Monday in August but it is. Because I don't know the future and suddenly everything is piling on and I'll never be able to get this stage built before December. Cause once the school year starts everything is moving so fast and everyone's schedules are so busy and then all of the sudden it's December and nothing is ready.

And December isn't close enough to stress about so of course I figured I would start stressing about the rest of my life. And suddenly I'm in tears because I have chosen to look into the future and take all the stress and carry it now.

But tears feel like a betrayal. When I cry because things aren't going according to my plans I'm betraying the Master Planner by saying that His plans aren't working for me. I don't trust Him. I want it my way. So tears feel like a slap in the face to my Creator and His providence.

And this leads back to my earlier posts about expressing feelings and validation.

Is it a slap in God's face to cry? Of course not! So that's not really a valid feeling, and yet I feel it. It's that vicious cycle of knowing that the Lord does want me to cry and cast my burden on Him, but feeling like it's an act of selfish denial of His power. And so I want to be strong, and it feels like strength to stifle the tears and soldier on. But I know, rationally I know, that that is weakness not strength. I must cast my burden on Him and He will sustain me.

Matthew 6
26 Look intently at the birds of the sky; for they sow not, neither do they reap, nor gather into barns, and your heavenly Father feeds them. Are you not of more value than they?
27 And which of you by being anxious can add one cubit to his stature?
28 And why are you anxious about clothing? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they labor not, neither do they spin;
29 but I say to you that even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed as one of these.
30 And if God so clothe the grass of the field, which today is, and tomorrow is cast into the oven, shall He not much more clothe you, O ye of little faith?
31 Be not therefore anxious, saying, What shall we eat? or, What shall we drink? or, With what shall we be arrayed?
32 For all these things do the nations seek; for your Heavenly Father knows that you need all these things.
33 But seek ye first the kingdom of God, and His justice, and all these things shall be added to you.
34 Therefore do not be anxious for tomorrow; for tomorrow shall be anxious for the things of itself. Sufficient for the day is the evil of it.

Are all feelings valid?

Are all feelings valid? I've seen a few articles recently about letting kids feel the feels. And some people have said that they don't think it IS valid for kids to be allowed to express all their emotions. But I think it depends on some definitions.

What does "express" mean?

Express - convey (a thought or feeling) in words or by gestures and conduct.

I guess I believe in freedom of speech, but I also believe in consequences. I don't think children OR adults should just be allowed to scream anything.

So, I guess I'd say that humans should be allowed to FEEL the feelings, but not necessarily allowed to express them. Some gestures, conduct or words are just not appropriate. I think everyone realizes that.

When I think about things that I feel, I KNOW that they're crazy, or even wrong. And that can make it so much worse that I feel them. So I would like people to acknowledge my feelings but not to validate them. Some feelings are not valid, but that doesn't mean I don't feel them.

A very basic example is when I get cold. I remember as a kid my brothers saying things like, "It's not cold. I'm not cold!" and I would look down at my arms covered in goosebumps and think to myself "Um, I didn't choose to feel cold. I'm not doing this on purpose, to annoy you. I cannot change the fact that I feel cold. I don't care what temperature it is, my body is shivering!" but I didn't usually say anything. I would just get angry because I couldn't express to them that I couldn't control my body temperature.

But what about emotions? Can we choose what emotions we feel? Do we have control over them? I'd say that we don't have control over the thoughts and feelings that come into our heads and hearts, but we can control what we do with them once they're there.

Someone once said, "You can't choose what thoughts enter your head, but you can control which ones you invite in for tea." The point being that you are not responsible for the thoughts that come in to your head. If you see someone and your thought is "I wanna kill that person," you don't have to make yourself guilty of that feelings you can immediately be like "Ugh! I don't want to think that!" and kick it out of your head. If you sit there thinking about all the ways to kill that person, then you're culpable. You are inviting the thought in for tea. Meditating on some evil.

So yeah, if someone says "I feel ___." The reaction should never be "No, you don't feel that way." That's not helpful and it's not true. You cannot know what another person is feeling. If they tell you how they are feeling you don't get to contradict them.

People often want to make someone feel better so if I were to say to a friend "I feel useless. I feel like I'm not lovable" and he responded in well-meaning kindness "No! You are very lovable and such a useful person" that might seem like a kind thing to say, but all he has done is invalidate my feelings.

I believe that the appropriate response is "I'm sorry that you are feeling that way. How can I help you?" He doesn't have to agree with me. He doesn't have to say that the feelings are valid, but he should acknowledge that I do in fact feel that way whether or not I should.

If a friend were to say to me "I don't feel love for my husband." I should not respond "Yes you do! Let me remind you why!" I should say "Oh man! I'm so sorry. That sucks. I'm sorry you feel that way! What can I do?" Of course I would want to help her remember why she loves her husband, but I think it's important to acknowledge what the other person is feeling before trying to make it better.

So, with adults you can acknowledge, but not affirm feelings, but can you do the same with children?

If a kid falls down and sees that an adults is watching they oftentimes will burst into tears because they want comfort. So I try not to react strongly to a kid falling down. I usually pick them up and cheerfully say something like "Oops! Are you okay?" Gasping nearly always results in the child wailing. Is that wrong? Is that distracting the kid from expressing their emotions? But if they really are okay, it's not really doing them a service to let them wail. And if they are truly upset or hurt (physically or emotionally) is it then okay to let them cry?

I think so, but sometimes if a kid is upset by something like spilled milk is crying really warranted? I  want to be able to tell my kids that that isn't worth crying over. And maybe if they need to cry that other people don't need to hear it. I guess people should be allowed to cry if they want to, but no one is obligated to feel sorry for them if they do.

Another thing I find myself wondering about is saying "It's okay" to a crying child or baby. I used to think that perhaps that wasn't a fair thing to tell them. "You're okay" "It's okay" sounds like it's brushing off their feelings and not letting them emote. But a few nights ago I was holding a crying baby and found myself rubbing her back and saying "It's okay to cry. It's okay." And realized that I wasn't trying to talk her out of crying, I was trying to reassure her that the crying was okay. "It's okay to feel sad."

Because sometimes you just feel sad, like you just feel cold. I can't change how I feel, but I can always choose what I do about it.

Crying: Is it secret? Is it safe?

Ah ha! Writing the crap was useful. I just want to write all the things. I want to work on my stalled out story, I want to write more blog posts and feel all the feels.

I don't know what I want to write about, but it's through writing that I get inspired to write. I just start rambling about life and sometimes it continues to ramble and sometimes it becomes something.

I am a super supressor. Of tears, of emotions. And I want to let them out. I want to cry for nearly no reason right now. I cried twice in the last two days which is a lot for me, and I want to cry more. It's like writing. Writing inspires more writing, crying inspires more crying.

Does the writing have to mean anything for it to be worth it? Does the crying have to mean anything to be worth it? I want to cry because my shoulder hurts. Not badly. Not the kind of pain that really induces aching tears, but it hurts a fraction and that should be enough to let me cry. Haha.

I've always wondered why crying is so hard for me. As a child I cried a lot. My Daddy let me cry. I never felt suppressed in my childhood. I cried a lot. I think because a) I was an emotional child and the feelings were real and valid and b) I was a manipulative child (like all children?) and used tears to get my way. Thinking back on it, I can't ever remember fake crying (but that certainly doesn't mean I didn't do it) but I think I most often used real sad feelings to get my way.

So, I wasn't stunted as a child. 

Or was I?

I think one of the things that prevents me from crying most often is worrying about what other people will think of me. I don't want people to pity me and I don't want people to worry about me or maybe even care about me. That's strong, but I really don't like manipulating people with my emotions. I want people to care about me because I've logically convinced them that I'm worth caring about. I am always worried that people will agree to things that they don't actually want to.

Setting aside tears, when I ask someone for something or if they want to do something, I am of course afraid of rejection. It's human to fear rejection. But I'm also really afraid that they will say "yes" to something that they wish they could say no to. I live in fear of people agreeing to things they don't want.

So back to tears, I am afraid of other people reacting to my tears. Here I sit, across from another human. If I were to start crying while writing I assume that he would notice, probably even stop what he was doing and ask if I was okay. I don't want him to stop his work to deal with me. But I'd probably feel worse if I sat here crying and he didn't react at all. And so my only option is to sit here, suppressing the tears that want to squish out of my eyes. I can feel them. I don't have any idea what they're doing there or what they mean. My little Inside Out people in my brain didn't tell me why anything should be sad right now. I don't feel sad. I don't feel neglected or anything. I just really like crying. But I also hate it.

And while it might seem ridiculous to hold back the silly unlabeled tears, I honestly FEEL like I will FEEL better if I just hold them in and don't let them disrupt other peoples' lives. And yet, I bet a lot of people would actually feel like their day held more meaning if they comforted a friend.

If I trade places with my friend how would I feel? Would I feel happy to give up on this journal entry to help a friend? Of course I would! So why can't I treat myself the same way?

Do I feel the same way about other emotions? If I were writing something else and started laughing, would I feel disruptive? Would I feel bad? No, I think that it is much easier to ignore a slight laugh than the silent trickling tears. A friend might ask what is funny, but they certainly wouldn't be remiss if they didn't ask. If I couldn't stop laughing then sure, some conversation might ensue. But it is definitely a different type of thing. Partly because I wouldn't mind getting someone out of their mood to laugh with me or to enjoy something fun or funny that I could share.

But I have been in the opposite place of being with friends, laughing and having a good time and then having someone show up in tears and killing the mood. Did I want to comfort this crying man? Not particularly, I did feel jarred into a completely different mood. Was it wrong of him to kill the atmosphere that we had created with laughter and fun? Is it wrong of me to think that perhaps he could have chosen a different way to enter? I know that if I were coming to a party and felt like crying I wouldn't have showed up, or I would have come, pulled aside a friend and asked for some support.

And of course I have been in situations with friends where through conversation or whatever they begin to cry and that doesn't make me feel uncomfortable. I just want to hug them and love them and care for them and I don't feel like I am being manipulated or any such nonsense. 

I don't have the answers. I just know that I am afraid. Far too often I am afraid. Are my feelings valid? Does valid have anything to do with it? Ah yes, I will write another post on whether or not feelings are valid and what I think about that! But for now, I will end this somewhat sad entry and maybe go work on my story.