Choosing Sadness

Some days I intentionally choose my sadness. I wake up and decide it would feel better to fully embrace how shitty I feel that morning. This hurt is like my favorite old Tshirt. It is unbecoming, oversized, and worn out. Under normal circumstances I would never wear it in public, but some days I just want to put it on. It is unseemly, but fitting. I can't be bothered with how it looks because it feels like exactly what I need.

This morning I chose sadness. I turned off my alarm, looked at his picture, and decided I needed to self-indulge. Waking up is hard. Reminding myself he's never coming back is painful. Adjusting to my new normal is so overwhelming that sometimes I'd rather not try. 

So I picked up the sadness that I called my old Tshirt. Putting it on felt comforting. I could relax in all of its baggy, giving fabric. The size of it made it possible for me to hide, to disappear inside of it for a while. 

I tried to take it with me to class. I wanted so badly to wear sadness all day long. But I was clothed by a room full of smiles, styled in the pursuit of knowledge, and adorned with the warmth of new friends. I looked down and found that I wasn't wearing my big Tshirt anymore. I was actually dressed for the day. 

At first I was upset. This morning I committed today to sadness, willingly gave myself over to be consumed by it. When I started to laugh, participate, and enjoy myself, it almost felt like going back on my word. I didn't want to be disloyal to my sadness because through everything, it has been my most consistent ally. I could always find it when I needed it. I could always slip back into its suffocating, but familiar embrace. 

But then I allowed myself to smile.
I realized that although today I chose sadness, happiness chose me.