Let the Rain Fall

As a little kid, rainy days meant many things. Light rain meant running around for hours not caring about whether I got wet or not. Digging in the mud and garden, talking with the plants and trees and asking them if they were enjoying their drink. Heavy rain meant sitting inside snuggled up under blankets and watching movies. Lazy days filled with warmth and comfort. Thunderstorms meant hiding under the table. I didn’t like thunder, it hurt my ears, the sound resonating through my whole body. It sounds like gun shots to me, booming and intrusive. Over the years I got used to the sound, but there are times it still takes me by surprise. A fear that never fully goes away.

As I got older, rain become an annoyance. It brought sluggishness, joint and head pain, and a severe lack of motivation. It hurt to get out of bed, the pressure mocking all the damage my body has gone through over the years. Bringing a fog that never seems to fully leave my thoughts, making me want to stay in the house and call it a day. Despite that, there was a time that rain was a blessing to me. The drops falling and melting away stress and frustration as I stood in it. It’s torrent hiding the tears streaming down my face, erasing the pain that my heart held on to for so long. Rain was a release, a way of expunging my pent-up emotions, and not being questioned about it. When you cry in front of people or in an enclosed space, evidence remains, people ask what the problem is, or why you are reacting the way you are. In rain, no one asks what you are hiding, or why the tears flow. It’s hard to differentiate tear drops from rain drops, the only evidence being wet clothes and red eyes. The former being explained by getting caught in the weather, the latter being explained by wiping water from my eyes.

I forget when I stopped looking at rain as a release, and started to looking at it with disdain. One day it just happened. I didn’t feel the need to step out in the down pour, I just stared as the water fell. The sound reverberating off everything it hit, washing over the world as it went, while I stood idly by unsure of my next move. It hurt to watch the world be washed clean as I stood there holding the weight of my emotions, the memories that refused to let go or disappear. I felt heavy and overwhelmed, the pressure from the rolling clouds only adding to the pain my poor body felt. Why did it seem so bleak? When the world was being cleansed and refreshed. Why did it feel haunting? To see the world bathed in gray tones and glistening water. I had lost something along the way. A feeling of joy as the world took a breath and let itself cry, an ability to join in with the world as it washed away the remnants of yesterday and started anew.

One day, when everything seemed especially bleak, and it seemed the rain had no end in sight, its drops pelting the roof and windows without mercy, I realized something. It wasn’t the rain that had changed. It was me. I had let myself lose the joy of rain. Lose the presence and knowledge of what rain brings. It can bring danger and chaos, but it also brings life, and the ability to refresh. To be able to start from scratch without the burdens of yesterday’s faults. I stood in my doorway staring at the world be cleaned, at the trees and plants getting a good drink, at the animals relishing in their natural baths. I watched as a bird landed in a puddle, the rain dancing off its back as it fluffed and washed itself, tweeting merrily all the while. The bird was wet and didn’t care, it was having fun. I wanted that, to have fun. To not hold on to the pain in my chest like a consolation prize.

For the first time in years, with the intent to simply exist, I stepped outside. The rain was chilled, but it felt good against my heated skin, instantly starting to wash away guilt and frustration. The drops rolling down body and face at a rapid rate, drenching my clothes and hair and taking my restraint with it. My eyes burned, tears bubbling forth from the depths of my soul, slowly releasing emotions I hadn’t realized I had been holding on to for so long. Once they started, it seemed they wouldn’t stop. Tears mixed with the down pour, blurring the line between the two. I didn’t know what was rain and what was coming from me any longer. But I did know that it felt good. Every moment I stood out there like that, I felt a little lighter, like my emotions flowed without remorse. Like my soul was being cleaned of the dark muck I had trapped it in.

I don’t know when I stopped caring about the rain, and started hating it. But I do know that I need to stop hating it so much. There will be days that it will hurt my body, that I will feel the pressure but have to keep pushing myself forward. There will be days that it will make it feel like I can’t leave my bed even though I know I have to. When I wake up feeling like life is against me as the world is crying, I need to remind myself to step out in the rain, even just for a little while. Because like the world needs the rain to refresh, so do I. I need to let myself be washed clean just like the surrounding trees. I need to let my skin drink in the drops like the plants do, and I need to let my emotions flow just like the water does. Only then will I be lighter and brighter, allowing the sunshine to come through and start again. I have to let the rain fall.