I’ve never been the best at knowing my limits, but I have learned a lot and grown to accept the boundaries I find. An improvement from the obstinate stand I would have taken long ago, and sometimes still find myself in. In this case I knew caution was the route to take, and maybe that’s why it’s been so long since I’ve even considered going to a concert. Something in me is just ready to let go of the past, stop letting it hold me back.
Let myself heal.
I have been assessing why I let myself feel bad over things that aren’t worth it. I clearly find some penance in it. Why do I find it correct behavior to make myself feel bad over such tokens?
I couldn’t help but be excited as much as anxious. Pushing into the cluster of people near the front, waiting for the band to emerge onto the stage, nursing beers and eyeing the crowd. I vaguely knew what to expect when the music started, but it was magnified as the familiar song started to play. It was like a hand of fire reached out and shoved me hard. I stumbled back a few steps and covered my mouth as I felt my face turn to that of a gargoyle.
I am an ugly crier, there’s nothing for it.
At first it was hard to remind myself of where I was, the world swirled out of focus for a breath. I could feel my heart and lungs reverberating, resonating with the music, and it was so disconcerting. I pushed the thoughts of hospitals and IVs and dying out of my head.
I felt the break through.
As the sound washed over me, and the crowd shouted to the music, something inside of me melted. Disappeared. Dissolved.
I forgive myself.