When I cry, I gush snot. It’s disgusting. The noises are probably the worst part. And lately, I’ve been crying on people’s shoulders a lot when emotions get the best of me. The last two months I’ve been carrying around a roll of toilet paper for that very purpose per a friend’s wise advice. It’s mostly used now, and what is left is tattered and slightly drenched in essential oils from being at the bottom of my bag.
But last night I found myself in need of it again. I was struggling with something and asked to talk to a friend, but I didn’t do a lot of talking, nor did I let them talk much. Instead I sobbed. For at least an hour. Finally, my friend had to leave for work.
“I love you, Sara.”
“Love you too.” It came out in a strangled whisper. “Have good work.”
They had to hang up while I sat there sobbing. I grabbed onto a no trespassing sign nearby and gasped for air, spitting out the snot that was running down the back of my throat. I felt like throwing up and I wasn’t sure that I wasn’t going to pass out if I let go of the sign.
I don’t really know why I’m telling you this. But today, somewhere above Louisiana, I realized that I think it’s time for me to start sharing my mess again. I don’t want to . . . for a variety of valid reasons.
But vulnerable writing was how this blog started and how my book came to be and . . . it’s my roots. It’s what I’ve watched God use. So today I’m a mess. I’m a mess in front of you. I’m confessing to my nose blowing bubbles through my snot yesterday, and to plopping down in the middle of a dusty, dirt road because I felt so emotionally defeated I couldn’t physically go any further.
The girl you see doing cheery videos on Instagram sharing about the exciting event she’s hosting? Five minutes before that she was gasping for air through the pain and tears. And five minutes after, she fell into the river and walked home in a wet, muddy dress.
I want to encourage you to give yourself the grace to be a mess too. Self-control, poise, dignity, and the rest are hugely admirable traits we should all seek to grow in. But warrior, don’t lock up your emotions in the name of self-control. Self-control doesn’t mean squashing your emotions into oblivion and living like a numb robot.
Self-control doesn’t mean letting things fester. Self-control means not responding rashly or taking things out on people or allowing yourself to be ruled by the desires of your sinful nature. But tears are good, healing things.
This morning a friend texted me, “My emotions are causing physical pain because I’ve been locking them up instead of facing them because I don’t want to face them. Still don’t.”
Locking emotions up might seem safer, easier, and better now. But we must get them out. Because make no mistake, they will come out eventually. It’s just a matter of when and how. And when we lock them up and allow them to fester and harden, they get so much harder to deal with.
So today, I want to encourage you to get it out. Let yourself sob until all your spoons are gone. Call a friend. Journal. Paint. Pray. Get it out.
Sobbing on the phone yesterday, one of the few things my friend did manage to get in was that point. My friend was talking about having hard conversations with people that I didn’t want to have. But the same principle applies.
“I feel like throwing up.”
“Wait till I’m off the phone.” My friend paused. “But waiting to throw up makes things worse. If you know it’s going to happen, it’s better to just get it over with . . . then you feel so much better.”
I realized what my friend was getting at. It’s the same with our emotional issues. So today, find a safe Mirror-Dimension of your own (Dr. Strange reference) where you can get stuff out. Not at an innocent bystander or someone you’re upset with. But a solid friend, a blank page, or an empty field are good places.
I know it’s hard. But warrior, you need to face it eventually. Better this way than a messy explosion later. Get it out.
*hugs you hard* Love you, Sara, and your beautiful, brave heart.
Love you too, Bethany. Thanks for walking through things with me. ❤