A couple of years ago, someone I love decided they no longer wanted me in their life.
I was devastated.
I was mad.
I was confused.
But mostly, I was sad.
I knew better than to hate or argue or try to change her mind, but I couldn’t shake the sadness.
I tried to coach myself out of it, and usually I am very good at coaching myself, but sadness stayed.
That’s when I realized I wanted to be sad.
I wanted to cry. Truly.
My heart was broken and I wanted to let it be broken for a minute without trying to fix it.
It was supposed to be broken.
And so I was sad. I walked around with sadness like it was my heavy purse.
I owned it. I carried it willingly.
Morning. Noon. And night.
Day after day.
And then one day I noticed…I didn’t want to be sad anymore.
I was tired of being sad.
I missed my friend. Every time I saw something that would have made us both laugh, I felt her absence.
But I was done being sad.
And because I had respected sadness and given it its due, it respected me and let go when I asked.
I remember when it happened…the radio was on and gave me a new thought…
“Now, you’re somebody I used to know.”
And I felt happy.
Happy to have known her.