It's one of those weeks at Casa Sage. The collective energy is in the toilet, and even the smallest task feels monumental. So the dishes are piling up in the sink. The junk mail is colonizing the coffee table. The unmade bed beckons from the moment I drag myself up in the morning to the moment my head hits the pillow at night. A pall of sadness has settled over the house like a fine dust, and I can't bring myself to brush it off quite yet.
So I'm embracing the current gloom and disorder—thanks in no small part to the movie Inside Out, which I saw last Saturday. I'm not usually an animated film fan, but this one captivated me. I don't want to give too much away, so I'll just say that the story's anthropomorphization of a young girl's emotions illustrates the message that in order to know joy, we must acknowledge sadness too. Seeing this truth enacted with such wit, whimsy, and wisdom drove it home for me in a new and very profound way.
You see, sadness has always been an enigma to me. While I'm no stranger to the tears and torpor that accompany it, I haven't always possessed sufficient self-awareness to label the feeling. On other occasions, I've correctly identified my emotional state but not its trigger. Most frequently, though, I've sought endless distractions from the psychic discomfort of sadness. I've eaten over it. I've shopped over it. I've binge-watched game shows over it. Consequently, my experience of sadness has always been diluted. I've been sad and confused. Sad and disconnected. Sad and enraged. Never simply…sad.
This time, however, I know what's weighing on my heart and why. A happy yet draining weekend visit to family from whom I've been estranged has me hurting for lost years. The death of a friend to cancer has me hurting for lost potential. And a twelve hour holiday road trip has me, well, just hurting. Worn emotionally and physically raw, there's nothing left for me to do but to cry. Plump, silent tears at my desk and at the grocery store. Great, snotty wails in the car and on the couch. Each sob session leaves me lighter than before, delivering relief as no shopping spree or sundae ever could.
If you haven't seen Inside Out yet, I absolutely encourage you to do so. Through it I've given myself the priceless permission not only to invite sadness in but to view it as a dear friend. One who knows the power of a good cry, one who sees that the only way out is through, and one whose presence means not despair but hope, healing, and the promise that everything is going to be okay. Now if you'll pardon me, I need to go blow my nose.
Thanks so much for sharing this Anne! I recently lost my job and I have been burying my sadness beneath closet purges and netflix binges… This was perfect timing and a good reminder that sometimes it’s okay to just cry and not distract myself from my feelings.
Thinking of you. Hope this weekend is restful and restorative.
This post really hit home today… I’ve been feeling in a funk all week and haven’t really taken the time to look at why. And then I read this and realized I should take a deeper look, so thank you.
I’m so sorry there have been so many reasons to be emotional this week, but this was so beautifully written and a good reminder to not try to just patch the emotions… xx
lovely post anne. crying is so therapeutic. and hey,
be gentle with yourself, you’re doing the best that you can.
Although it goes against the grain of what we are told today, king Solomon had something similar to say about sadness. Eccl. 7:2-4: “It is better to go to the house of mourning, than to go to the house of feasting: for that is the end of all men; and the living will lay it to his heart. Sorrow is better than laughter: for by the sadness of the countenance the heart is made better. The heart of the wise is in the house of mourning; but the heart of fools is in the house of mirth.”