Lost Lessons

So, thanks to a delayed flight, we were at the airport for a while yesterday. L. is reading Anne Frank’s diary. And she imagereads to me:

But feelings can’t be ignored, no matter how unjust or ungrateful they seem.

It was at the museum. I missed that one. Ironic that I did, because five days of holding it together, not confronting my line manager, but being nice to her instead, as every time I turned around she was there –  and otherwise appearing utterly professional and sociable – took its toll today. Over the smallest thing of course, as I struggled to think quickly enough to manage junior church this morning, and the aim of my lesson was lost. God didn’t seem to want to help me this time. I sunk into despair that I can do nothing right or helpful anymore. There is no point in living. And I text an old friend. And she tells me to speak to someone .

So I do. And is tell the volunteer about the frightening thoughts, and she asks about how I’m feeling, and I talk about all the jealousy and anger, as if in prayer, and I fold. And I realise it has been over a week since I last cried, in spite of all the rubbish. As I describe them, the volunteer says that these feelings aren’t bad or evil, they are human, like I am human. And I feel calmer for that. Remember that God made me human. Slowly regain composure.

Anne Frank was right. Ignoring  feelings, even the shameful ones, makes them loom larger; expressing them fades their power.

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