Yesterday I was backing up my photos. I found a poem I wrote to my wife years ago on my backup drive:

The poem won’t win any awards, but it has meaning.

When I read it, I felt a shock. And I felt a welling of sadness . I remember feeling lonely and missing her, looking at her while she watched tv, messaging on her phone. If we were in bed, I wasn’t allowed to touch her, because it would wake her, and herr “sleep was sacred”. I used to put my hand close enough to feel her body heat without actually touching her.

The emotion upon reading that poem was like a yellow orb ready to explode, maybe into something huge like a sun or giant flower opening.

I felt this emotion, but before I could observe it, my automatic suppression systems kicked in and killed it.

I saw sadness as a little yellow ball of yellow, begin to expand, possibly into something huge, but then shrank and blinked out of existence.

I tell people I don’t have emotion. People tell me I do, but repressed. My marriage counselor and my meditation coach both say this same thing.

The second I read that poem, my mouth dropped open and for a brief moment felt so much, and immediately saw the whole thing automatically crushed into nothingness before I could even take a look.

This is a vivid example of (one of) my insanity(ies) and problems with relationships.

It was a rough sleep last night but I’m feeling good now. Thanks to the tools I have been given in recovery and meditation.

Have a great day!

I’ve been asked many times and questioned myself over the years. (I’ve been in and out of counseling since the late 60s / early 70s when I got my first F on a school report card.)

I have felt joy exactly twice. On e when my wife appeared in view the day we got married and the second when she gave me a particular birthday present that surprised and delighted me beyond expectation. (Travlin’ Tim)

I’ve been in good moods plenty, more lately, but meditations and counselors frequently ask me to “think back to a time when I felt joy.”

its one of those words that have never been in my vocabulary and when someone asks for it, I have to find out what it is before I can tell you I don’t have it, or if I do.

To me joy is an extreme word. An extreme rarity on the far edge of emotion. The most extreme happiness.

This isn’t a negative post. Just a statement of fact. When I am asked to remember joy on order to recover from the loss of my wife, it’s kind of counterproductive that she’s the source of the medicine to help me recover.