In the quiet corners of my heart, I’ve made a pact with honesty. So, today, I’ll sharesomething that usually remains veiled—something I’d confide only in the hushed conversations with my inner circle. February, that fleeting month, arrived with its own storms. The kind that twists, leaving us breathless and disoriented. It’s okay, I remind myself, to feel overwhelmed during these hardships. Yet, February, with its icy fingers, was especially unyielding.
I won’t delve into the specifics—the why and how of it all. Not now. But I promise to reveal what unfolded a little later. A pivotal choice stood before me. I was at crossroads.
I recall a session with my therapist—a moment of vulnerability. “I said I knew I would feel okay again. However, at that exact moment I didn’t believe it”. At that moment I felt like I would stay in these emotions forever.
Our psyche, that intricate web of neurons and whispers, plays its tricks. I know that, since I study psychology—the paradoxes of our minds. Intense emotions, whether sorrow’s weight or joy’s effervescence, cannot linger indefinitely. Our psyche craves equilibrium, a return to its center. Even the sunniest days yield to twilight; the stormiest nights relent to dawn. It’s our nature, our cosmic design.
In these moments—when the storm rages, when the heart trembles—it’s crucial to be our own allies. To take care of our wounded selves, to talk to oneself with kindness. To become our own best friends, offering solace. And above all, to remember: “This too shall pass.
And here’s a secret: Emotions are just elusive messengers. It’s a mistake to label them good or bad. They’re neutral by their nature, like the wind that tousles our hair or the rain that kisses our skin. Perhaps, in my next post, I’ll unclose this further—the silent wisdom of emotions.
For now, let’s breathe. Let’s honor our storms. Let’s be kind to ourselves, for we are fragile and resilient at the same time. And let’s remember that vulnerability is a gift.
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