“Give Me A Minute To Compose Myself.”

Where did we learn, that it is necessary to compose ourselves, to pull together the framework of a calm self that others are expecting to see? If we aim to have honest hearts, what stops us from speaking truer sentences, from stating our desires more accurately?

Give me a minute, to repress everything I am naturally feeling in this moment, is what we really mean, everything my body needs to move from the inside outward. Please, would you just wait a couple of seconds, to allow me enough time to hide, to shield, to summon all the boundaries needed, to hold back this tidal wave of emotion.

What part of who you are, of your vulnerabilities or greatness, are the people around you not able to hold, or witness? Who is it you are sparing with such certain self-control? Who is it you are saving?

And where in your body is tasked with housing that violent outpouring of grief, rage, love or joy? Which of your organs, tissues, cells, is now burdened with the weight of all you could not let yourself release?

In these moments when time to get our shit together is the only protection we have from exposing our humanity, should we try a new plea? One that might reveal or nullify our fear of what lives on the other side of our discomposure.

What instead, could we ask for in such moments?

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