Emotions don't come when you want them to. Even when they've been welling up inside for a while and you then try to share them, they don't come when bidden. I just shared a lot with three very dear, close friends. I shared about violent death, decisions of ethics that I tried to support the decision maker in, horrible injury, transition, saying goodbye, saying hello, accepting change within close others, and leadership. They listened, their eyes got shiny, they thanked me. Why did it take three years? I don't know that I've always thought that my story was that important, because, really, my story is about what happened to other people. Other people about whom I care(d). It's about my reaction to life changes and endings. It's about the experiences I brought with me to this place.
I could share this with these friends because they accept and love me no matter what. Even if it feels as if I'm boasting about all that I've encountered. Is it really boasting? To share the hardship to which I've been privy? Is it saying "My experience is more dramatic than yours"? I wonder if that is why I haven't told my story.
Perhaps my emotions didn't come tonight as I thought they might. However, the next time they do come, I have three beautiful people with which to share them. Three people who will continue to accept and love me no matter what. And that is a wonder.
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