Uncomfortable

Twice now in the past week, two separate people, whom I respect and look up to immensely have said to me: "It's ok to be uncomfortable." Once I can handle, and chalk it up to a fluke. Twice? Really? Now it means it's got to be true and I damn well better listen. I am not amused. Not really. This all implies that there is something to be learned and I am NOT. IN. THE. MOOD. FOR. LEARNING.

Particularly this past week I have been tested. I have known what is right and watched my world of a train wreck continue to crash right in front of me and be so, so wrong. Sometimes I speak up and sometimes I can't. Sometimes it takes every ounce of my being to bite my tongue, and other times I just throw my hands up and walk away because it's just not worth it to me any more.

I am heading into the coming week already biased that it's going to be lame and uncertain...
And certainly lame.
And Scary.
And uncomfortable.
I have to do things that I don't want to do. But I have to. There are things I don't want to say this week. But I need to say them.

Here's something I read this week:
Silence isn't a blank. It's the pregnant possibility of what is about to be born.

This is me. Silence isn't a blank to me. If anything it's far more important, and carries a much heavier weight than most other things. When things, words, moments, are surrounded by silence on either side, the merit it has is much more valuable. I don't know what this has to do with the earlier part of the post, but in my head it was all making sense and tying together really nicely. Story of my life.