Rejection is not my Sadness
Too much of my life in sadness. Living my life in fear of having sadness, running from one sadness to the next. There is this sadness that burns through me and doesn’t leave. I felt it this morning. I have had such rejection as cannot be measured it is so vast and yet so basic. I cringe from this memory. The rejection and the sadness that followed. The sadness that always followed.
Later, I am all grown up. I think that I am beyond all of this. New rejections for new reasons. The sadness wells from within but I deny it. I don’t acknowledge the pain. I am grown up. I don’t care. I don’t need it. Or is it that I am not aware? The sadness is pervasive. It won’t leave me. The new rejections add up and the pain bubbles through me. It reaches into my history. The new rejections brush through my historical pain. The rawness of my history adds to my current rejection. It stays, it stays. It doesn’t go away as I deny and deny that history. It is no lie.
That history is real. It is me, the one who doesn’t fit in. The one who is not right. I am the one who is not like the others.
Today I see this river of sadness and it stretches all the way back to that first rejection. I feel that sadness. I feel that sadness all the way through my body. The sadness saturates my feelings and my soul.
