Old feeling come back often, as difficult and as unmanageable as they have always been. One day I’m walking down the street, singing to myself, enjoying the beauty of the sky, the trees, the birds, then WHACK! A sad memory jumps out of nowhere and robs me of everything I have; I’m suddenly small, poor, and hopeless. I can never see it coming, it’s almost like recovering from a long vicious cold, I feel fine, I feel strong, immune even! That virus won’t make me suffer again, but then it does, and there doesn’t have to be a rational reason, and there are no easy or express ways out the other side, and there are never any guarantees I won’t catch it again.
I don’t like it when people say hard and difficult experiences make you stronger, they don’t, they make you nervous, fearful, always worried what might be hiding for you behind the corner.