Yesterday I Cried. I Did.

1/14/12



for all the things I had given, only to have them stolen;
for all the things I had asked for that had yet to show up;
for all the things I had accomplished,
only to give them away to people in circumstances,
which left me feeling empty, and battered and plain old used.

I cried because there really does come a time when the only thing left for me to do is cry.


Then the tears washed away obscure ideas, some bitterness, the feeling of mediocrity and being useless, frustrations and unmet expectations. My goals once again became clear. My thoughts more rational. My emotions stable. I have regained my feeling of self-worth. I am now more focused on what I want to achieve, how I want to achieve them. I no longer complain that I do not have enough time. I know all I have to do is give time.


The book Yesterday, I Cried is a gift from a dear friend who I finally gave time to meet up after 6 years of rescheduling. I told her that I could not progress with the book. I'm somehow stuck with the poem. Because every time I read the poem, I just want to savor all the unpleasant experiences in my life.


This morning as I was writing this entry, I opened the book once again. Turned to the last page of the book where she wrote a dedication:


                  Dear Roselle,


                               Just another tool for your life's journey.
                        This book clearly celebrates the many reasons
                        for living and loving joyfully -- but first, healing.

                                                                                Best,
                                                                                   Anne
                                                                                  7.Apr.11



Now I understand why I am not making any progress with this book and with my life. I am so consumed with hatred and pain. Somehow dwelling on them gives me a masochistic satisfaction. I am so entertained by the idea that I have some drama in life.


I must move on.
I must grow up.
But first, I need to heal.