Does sadness serve me?

Does my sadness serve me?Ming asked me this this week, and its stuck in my brain like a thorn, or a piece of sand... I pray it comes to as a pearl.I think a lot of my life choices are based in sadness, or more accurately, sadness based in memory. It was something Ming and I nailed down- I hold onto the past far more than she does. I keep my past alive with every breath, give praise to my teachers, hold close memories, share tales readily, and base behaviors off of what I learned and sometimes do this last to such a degree that it hobbles my evolution to new behavior patterns.I adore the trash of my world. I hold up my memories of the past like beautiful gems- even if they were dug from shit. I cling my pain and my joy alike to my bosom and adore them both.Sadness not serving me 1) waiters. I really have expectations of what a waiters job is, based on what mi madre y padre taught me in my youth. Tip well but if the glass gets empty far too often, take off a percent. Another for not responding to hands up. Another for slowness. And I've just been informed that me holding waiters to “high” expectations in casual restraunts is inappropriate, times have changed, its ok (my gut clenched and I wanted to scream loudly) to get up from your table and go ask the waiter for stuff. I clench up and go wtf, get upset at the person who just stood up, get upset at the waiter for making us shame ourselves by not doing their job... and we still tip? It might sound like anger, but it is rage and anger fueled in sadness. A lot of my sadness comes out looking like rage.Ok, not the greatest example of the issue... lets try again...Sadness not serving me 2) Exes. There are many of my exes that I look at fondly, but others- especially ones who have not “moved/grown” (my ego version, not theirs) since we ended our ways, or ones who “there was so much hope/potential with”, or those who deny that we were when we are in each others presence (ie past not an allowed topic)- I get very very sad. I see shadows of them and what we “were” in our special places, in our songs, in kinks I don'r feel i can access well without them. Unresolved = sadness. Sadness transmutes to ghosts, and ghosts haunt, rattle, shake and stir.There are others...But does it serve me? This ache that pins me, holds me- a ragged blanket that makes me feel comfortable but has so many holes that I am not warm? I lift up Furry and look at him, this memory version of the man I love, was in love with, and bob underneath the waves, over the waves, wondering if I could have saved it, if I could have helped him be more, could have... not my baggage. I could not have changed his ambitions- a duck painted up to look like a parrot is still a duck- just now one that can't swim, can't follow its bliss.I look at a simple memory of Furry- the mud faerie and the mud monster in the hot tub. A happy memory, a blissful memory- amazing sex, deep flirtation, soul recognition. I hold up this gem and feel sadness. I feel his smirk and growl and my chest is heavy. So heavy.Set it down.Pick it up again. I smell the chlorine, the vines around, my nose just over the water and my eyes huge. The room is dark, laughter, love... such deep love.Breathe in.The art of recapitulation, soul retrieval, challenges us to look at a moment and stop giving away our power, plug the leak, fill in the hole... or set down the baggage that is not ours to carry, to hand back the power we took, open up the hole we plugged...Breathe in.Tears streaming and body on fire.Shame, sadness...Why sadness?Because he said he would be there for me?Because I was beautiful if I was a girl, a boy, a mud faerie?Because my brain says he lied.Ok, breathe.Breathe in.He didn't lie.In that moment he told the truth he knew.Just like in that moment you said you had no intent to ever transition.Truths change.Breathe in.A moment of love.A smirk.Beautiful fur matted down pushing against you.Growls and squirming bodies,Breasts to chests to hips to holes.Love echoing between the walls.Tension... sadness still.Why sadness?Fear that I won't have a moment that powerful again?Well I *know * that is bunk.Resentment? Back to the lie idea. Hm, thats circular logic, thanks brain.No, try again.Breathe.Unresolvedness.Huh, now thats something.Not about the moment, but about the players involved.Why can't Furry rock up on my doorstep like Marcus did, like EHD did at the Wet Spot covered in cake... and have some moment of mutual forgiveness, stories on the table, and have it be ok.Ah, ha ha- ok, now thats something.Sadness around unresolvdness of players.Hm.Breathe.Breathe.His hair swims around him.Your hair swims around you.Breathe.Breathe.Back out of the image.Kiss yourself, the mud faerie.Back out of the image.Breathe.Well ok, so if its unresolvedness mixed with resent, and that feels like a core truth looking at this heap of trash before me... how to I recycle? How do I reuse, reduce, and pull the gems out to keep on a shelf and adore and share them without pain?Does sadness serve me?It serves me as sand, but an oyster can not give up its pearl easily without sacriicing itself. The pearl has value to the outside viewer, not so much to the oyster other than to cover up the pain. Does living in pain serve me?Breathe.I do not want my life and decisions determined by sadness.(wow, that took almost 10 minutes to psyche myself up to typing)If where I come from informs me but does not define me (let alone my destination), why should the emotions (resolved or not) from/attached to where I come from define me or my experiences (let alone my future/choices)?(written 20 minutes later)My past informs me but does not define me.My emotions from that past thus inform my experience but do not define it.Breathe.Ok, I can work with that.