It's the not feeling the feelings
that is intolerable.
(Or at least seems to be).
Sitting in my place on the sofa
staring out the window
I'm somewhat aware of what feels like
fear in the background,
and vaguely aware of pushing it away.
The thought arises:
"This is horrible, I am unhappy,
I can't live like this".
And with it the imagination that this
will continue forever.
I actually feel the feelings...
...and there is soft sweet sadness
and I can see the wintery trees swaying gently
and I'm touched by both.
And it's really okay.
It's better than okay - it's really touching.
And it's completely bearable
to feel the feelings.
And if this sadness, this touchedness
continued this way forever
that would be fine by me.