Saturday, March 22, 2014

The Crowd at the Door

It's been rough for me, the last few weeks. I'm not exactly sure why.

Maybe it was the play we were involved in. It was incredibly emotional for everyone, even us costuming people couldn't hear "Jesus" suffering, we couldn't see his "blood" and wipe it from his face without being touched by it. And I've gotten really good at supressing my emotions. But I couldn't surpress what I was feeling as I painted a crying Jesus on the cross.

I find now, that when I let some feelings out, all of them tend to come crowding behind, like they've been waiting. When they see the door's open, they push forward to try to make it through too.

It takes me by surprise. I couldn't understand that, when I used to hear people say that, how suddenly the pain could come and take your breath away out of nowhere. Maybe because it was so fresh then, and it hurt almost all the time. I couldn't push the pain aside for long enough to be surprised by its return. But I get it now.

I miss Dad every day. I think of him every day. I still do. But I don't ache every day. I can push those feelings out of my way, and after a while they seem to take a step back. They are patient. They watch for the door to open again.
And then they rush it.

I always tell students lined up at the door I have three rules for walking in the halls, single file, keep quiet, and walking feet all together with no rushing ahead or lagging behind. Crowds are so much easier to manage when you can get them to line up all neat and tidy and threaten them with going back to the classroom to try it again if they can't behave themselves.

How do I do that with my emotions? I haven't figured it out yet. I need a substitute Becky to take over and whip them into shape. Maybe bribe them with gummy bears if all else fails. (This doesn't make sense anymore. I'm going to bed.)