Lindsay L. O'Connor

When life is overwhelming,

our wise bodies sometimes

take an overdue break

and our obedient hearts

and minds

follow suit.

Maybe it feels like

fatigue

or illness

or depression

or apathy.

Everything

just

shuts

down.

It all felt like too much,

and it was.

You were never meant

to carry so much alone.

And then, some time,

there’s a little crack.

Maybe it was sparked by

a good memory

a child climbing into your lap

a particular song

a dragonfly’s wing

the sunlight coming through the clouds

a roly poly between the sidewalk and the grass

the touch of a loved one

or the presence of someone

who is companioning you

on your healing journey—

a therapist, spiritual director,

sponsor, or friend.

Beneath the hard, shiny surface

that was protecting you so well, 

you might catch a glimpse

of your tender, beating heart.

I’m alive

I’m alive

I’m alive

it says.

I am hurting,

but I’m still here.

When you begin to feel again, 

you enter the holy ground of vulnerability

because feelings are wild things

that were meant to be allowed,

not controlled.

Your body might panic—

it hasn’t yet learned whether

you can tolerate the intensity—

but the intensity is just a mail carrier

delivering its messages.

And oh, Beloved, here’s the good news:

it’s not just the pain that’s been on hold.

When you begin to feel again,

Joy and Wonder and Curiosity 

and Excitement and Gratitude

and Compassion 

and Tenderness and Belonging

are close on the heels of your sorrow.

When Sadness gains access to 

your softening heart again,

she will let the others know

that it’s safe to come back home.