Masking Melancholy
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My post yesterday was raw. It was sad. I teared up as I wrote it. I teared up as I read it again later. Certain readers and friends got in touch after reading my words. To see if I was okay. To tell me that they cried too. Because of the palpable emotion in my sentences or because something I said triggered a personal memory for them.
I wrote that post very quickly. So quickly I wasn’t really conscious of the contours of my own thoughts. I wasn’t perfectly aware of what I was trying to do, or say, or accomplish. I just felt an overwhelming urge to honor in some small way what it was I was feeling. And so I pried open my laptop in a public space. And I spilled bits of myself. My mind.
My melancholy.
After, I raced to Preschool and collected a certain smiley girl from the Koala Room. Once on the sidewalk, I gave her a big hug, bigger than usual, and whispered in her ear that I loved her. And that I was proud. And then I took her for a hot dog and fries. Sitting there with her, watching her take tiny bites of fry, listening to sweet stories from her day, I felt so much better. I felt good.
I felt alive.
But it wasn’t just spending time with my big girl that turned the tide. I knew this. It was the writing. The purging of emotion. The unwrapping of self. The confession of confusion, of cracks. In writing my blog post, I acknowledged something. Something that was shaking me. I acknowledged that, in that moment, I was not exactly okay. I acknowledged that I missed my father, that even years later, it cripples me to know he won’t know my girls.
I told the truth.
But. After doing this, I felt a flurry of regret. I felt that maybe I should have kept my sneaky sadness to myself. That I should have kept things buttoned up. That I should have spared you all my slipperiness.
In this world of ours, I think there is pressure. Pressure to camouflage weakness. Pressure to obscure sadness. Pressure to mask melancholy.
I have felt this pressure. I have caved under its force. I have pretended – so many times – that I am okay, that I am happy, when I am not. And this is fine because this is life. We cannot wear our emotions on our proverbial sleeves at all times.
But sometimes we can. Sometimes, we should.
Today? Today, I feel good. Today, I have a day with my girls. Today, I am smiling. But yesterday? It was rough in spots. And I’m glad I was honest about that. Because being honest about it helped a bit. More than a bit.
So. This is just another morning, another day, where I am grateful for this space. For this opportunity to revere the less-than-sparkly moments of my life.
Because as hard as they are, these moments matter too.
___________
- Do you think there is pressure in this world of ours to mask our melancholy? Do you think this pressure is a good thing? A practical thing?
- Do you agree that sometimes acknowledging sadness, and honoring its arrival, helps happiness return?
- Do you blog sometimes to wade through existential murkiness?
- How do you handle your less-than-sparkly life moments?
Everyone struggles and...
I read yesterday’s post, as well as todays. Between the picture, and the words, i teared up as well. You described it perfectly by saying it was raw emotion. After reading your post, i called my dad, and told him to have a good day, and that i loved him. Thank you for sharing the not so sparkly moments. It makes you seem all the more human, and reminds us not to take things for granted. XOXO
You have the same birthday as my father, who turned 80 this year. He knows my kids and was just here visiting and learned to shoot a bow just days before his 80th birthday. I sent him the photo as a birthday present.
It is my mother I’ve lost. And I, like you, notice those moments of after.
I’m making a quilt for my daughter. I’m almost done, but it’s taken me just over 11 years to make it. Grieving takes time. My mom won prizes for her quilts. I’ve been sewing my life back together as I take those stitches, remembering her, letting her words seep through the colors of the fabrics. I feel like I hear you do the same with fishing. I heard it in your novel.
I’m so happy for your baby girl. Girls are wonderful. Your dad had a great time raising a flock of them.
I feel not so much a pressure but a responsibility to put on a happy face even when I don’t feel happy. I think I feel this way because I know I have been blessed with so many gifts in my life, family, health, career, lifestyle etc., that I don’t feel I have the right to wallow when I have it so easy. And yet I can’t exactly turn off those moments of melancholy because when they appear (albeit rarely) they are based on real pain, just as yours was as you expressed it yesterday. For you it is blogging that helped you cope. For me it is the ability to confide in certain people in my life, to drop the artifice and just talk, that keeps me going in those moments.
Notwithstanding my own need to mask, as I read your words, I was struck by how silly it was that you worried about dropping your positive pretense. Your pain is so legitimate, who would judge you for missing your dad? And then it dawned on me that this all stems from our insecurity that “people” won’t like us, will deem us ungrateful for all our blessings, if we don’t act humble happy 24/7. And the truth is, if they do judge us (whoever “they” are), why do we even care because after all, “they” sound like really crappy people. It’s funny how clearly you can see things in others that I miss in myself. Thanks for making me think.
I get this so much, especially since lately I’m facing some intense struggles oft own. I feel I want to write about them on my blog and when I do I feel unsure. It’s because we are conditioned to always keep our guard in check. When we let it down, we are left vulnerable and it’s scary. Feels uncomfortable. But I’m learning that meaningful sharing helps you, you and others. And that is an amazing place to be.
xo
I freaked out my family by posting a couple days ago “The darkness beckons…”
Same thing. We’re all supposed to be “fine” and not write about this stuff, right? For fear we may upset others, those close to us.
I needed to write it, though. It HAD to come out. I debated publishing, but did in the end.
Hugs.
Oh my goodness yes! I suffer through bouts of melancholy, myself! The world just feels so heavy to me at times… and I have to purge it. With words or with tears. Writing is extremely cathartic for me.
I do believe in positivity, as well. But I don’t think that being positive means burying your head in the sand. Quite the opposite actually. I believe being positive means looking at the negative, feeling it, allowing the pain and emotion, and then letting it go. It will shape you, for certain, and also allow you to appreciate the good even more.
I think there is tremendous pressure not to wear our hearts on our sleeves, especially as adults and parents (and maybe especially as women?).
Sometimes when I have that moment of regret after I’ve blogged about something raw, or spilled what might be too much to a friend, I think about whether my reaction has more to do with my own actual regret or with what I perceive to be what people expect and want from me.
When I first started blogging, for instance, no one I knew read my blog. Now some family and friends do and I definitely catch myself before publishing certain posts and I think it’s perhaps because I’m worried that they’ll worry too much. I’m okay with how I’m feeling, but I’m not sure if they will be.
I often let it all out on the blog. It is my refuge and my safe place. It is cathartic to write about these things because it often provides insight and perspective that I didn’t see before.
For me, I couldn’t not write. I have a fire in my belly that burns far too bright. The blog is kind of a thermostat for me.
Do you think there is pressure in this world of ours to mask our melancholy? Do you think this pressure is a good thing? A practical thing?
Yes, and it’s not a good thing because research shows that holding everything inside instead of sharing leads to exploding emotions in the long run.
Do you agree that sometimes acknowledging sadness, and honoring its arrival, helps happiness return?
Do you blog sometimes to wade through existential murkiness?
Yes, I do think that acknowledging saddness not only helps happiness return, but move on. Gretchin Rubin’s resolution for this week is acknowledging other people’s feelings. No, I don’t blog. I would like to blog, but just don’t know how to start.
How do you handle your less-than-sparkly life moments?
Basically, I go for walks, no matter how I am feeling, sad, mad, confused, scared, worried, etc. I can never miss a day without having gone for a walk, it helps me clear my mind so that I can tangle the start of a new day.
I think it’s good and healthy to put it all out there rather than bottling it up. And normal to want others to hear you and help you through the tough days and the tough times.
It’s so weird and cool and interesting that these days, with the internet and blogs and all, that those “others” who help us through our trials and questions and dilemmas and bad days can be virtual strangers. Or strangers, but virtual friends, if that makes any sense.
Thanks for sharing. I’m so sorry for your loss.
For sure, absolutely, 100%. I often feel that pressure, that I ought to buck up and just not be so damn sad. And like you I have days where the sadness just floats over my head and others that are mostly extremely joyful. Do people not want to see our melancholy because it reminds them of their own? I don’t know. I personally feel grateful when someone is honest about their struggles, because it makes me feel less alone, so I do not in the least understand the pressure.
xo
I think it is so healthy to just let it all out emotionally. For me I can’t live otherwise, it stresses me out to keep anything in. Not exactly the best end of the spectrum either but I think as long as you try to be true to what makes you most comfortable then that is key, as you did yesterday. Everyone understands sadness and your melancholy over losing your Dad is certainly understandable. No one is happy all the time and admitting what you are feeling just makes you all the more likable and relatable.
I am sorry your day was sad yesterday, I am sending you lots of virtual hugs!
I totally agree there is a lot of pressure to keep it bottled up. The Happiness movement has backfired with this in my opinion. In order to truly be happier we need to embrace and express the moments of sadness and despair that are a very real part of life. However, we are told think positive, be happy and in essence the message is sent to not feel the less then positive emotions–which just leads to more sadness and despair because we beat ourselves up for feeling sad when in reality mixed in with the joys of life there is pain. There is tragedy, existential angst, poverty, stress, death, etc.
However, sometimes it is just ‘easier’ to bottle it in because as Lindsey said people just don’t know what to do with sadness. I know from personal experience in dealing with my dad’s dementia and Parkinson’s that people really are uncomfortable when I am in pain so I pretend it is better than it is to make them feel better. In my opinion we as human beings need to let go of this need for positivity and learn how to sit with other people in their pain and suffering–end of rant. This topic just gets me fired up
I feel a great deal of pressure to keep my sadness bottled up and put away. And yet I am relieved to see your words and the words of others bathed in melancholy because it reminds me that I am not alone. It makes you more human, to me.
Of course if you go off on an all the time emotional bender, I might change my mind about that.
Glad today is better.
Oh gosh. TONS of pressure to keep it all in. But letting it out is SO much better. It is a myth to hide behind the veil of happiness and perfect. I am honored to have read some of your truth, even the messy parts. xo
ive had meloncolyness for 10 years. could i be addicted to it. no matter what i strive to do it returns like the oceans tide. i go out and help people, complete strangers that i will never sea again . yet i am flooded with mans inhumanity to man every where. ive been through eco-socio times in all phases yet when i sea the sunshining eventualy the darkness prevails. i am at the next stage beyond lonelyness.