This afternoon I saw my therapist and spilled my emotional guts all over her new polka-dotted area rug. I told her I’ve been everything lately–sad, overwhelmed, frustrated, worried. She said, “That’s why you’re here, to sort this stuff out.” So that’s what we did–sorted things out. And whereas I’m still tired and emotionally drained, I have been reminded of the bigger picture. My frustrations are temporary. This too shall pass. I don’t have to feel one way and not the other, do one thing and not the other. Life isn’t black or white.

As my therapist said, “There’s gray everywhere.”

I really do feel better today. Not amazing, but better. Last night I watched A Dog’s Life and cried. That helped. Before that I watched a standup comedy special on Netflix–Hannah Gadsby’s Nanette–and laughed out loud AND cried. That helped A LOT. Honestly, I should go back and watch it again. I was in awe the entire time. Most comedians share vignettes–little stories here, little stories there, one thing not connected to the other. In standup, that’s okay. But Hannah does something different, something that–in my opinion–only a master writer and storyteller can do. She shares all these stories that seemingly don’t have anything to do with one another, but still manages to tie them together like a patchwork quilt. It’s gripping, vulnerable, uplifting–the truth.

Seriously, go watch it. (Buy a box of Kleenex first.)

On the way to therapy I kept thinking, What if I were kind(er) to myself in this moment? Not that I’m unkind to myself normally, but I think I could soften up around the edges, make room for the situations and feelings in my life that I find “unacceptable” or “not so cute.” Last night while watching Nanette I ended up sobbing–ugly crying–when Hannah spoke of the shame that is often instilled or planted (from the outside) in those of us who are homosexual or otherwise different. Then I did the same thing–bawled–while watching A Dog’s Life, especially during the scene in which there was a house fire, I guess since our house burned when I was a child. The whole thing–the tears and snot–was so gross and yet so beautiful and a-long-time-coming.

So gray.

When I told my therapist that my emotions were just “too much” sometimes, she said, “Life is too fucking much.” Personally, as a recovering neat freak, perfectionist, and hung-up-on-completion-ist, this is a lot for me to recognize. The universe is chaotic, wild, and gray–anything but “just so.” Still, I’m learning to find comfort in the idea that this is the way life is–unpredictable and too much at times–not meant to be controlled. In other words, life is messy. So I’m trying to sit in the “not so cute,” to let my emotions show up when they’re ready, to accept them rather than push them away into the land of black or white. It’s a difficult thing to do–embracing all that is gray–but I’m finding that a grayer world is a kinder world; a softer-edges world; a more honest, connected, patchwork-quilt kind of world.