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  • 執筆者の写真Chami

悲しみを感じる Feeling Sadness







I feel sad. It's not a strong sadness as a response to anything gut-wrenching. It's just a heavy, thick, sapped-of-life kind of sadness. How did it come to this? I wonder as I feel tears well up. And then I react by reaching for a slice of fresh, warm bread. There's a momentary decline of the feeling as I indulge in the flavor. I then start to do the next thing. But then my heart screamed.

Stop. Please don't go. I'm sad. It may not be a huge thing that's happening, but those tears are legitimate. Please feel me.

So I sit down and grab my journal, and connect with my heart. Whoa. Yes, it's there. The emotions. And the words flow out onto the page. The pain and loneliness behind the sadness. Fear. Anger. A deep desire to just be happy.

When I took a deep breath, I felt the extra bread in my stomach, sitting there heavily. Definitely not worth the momentary numbing of pain, and I know that this is the trick the ego plays to get my stress to "go away" from my head and instead send my energy to the pleasure of food and the work of digestion.

These are the last words in the journal: "So there. I feel sad. I ate a big slice of bread. But I sat down again to feel the emotion. Good for you, Chami."



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