Getting to the Tears

I continue be surprised at how far I will go to avoid breaking down into a good cry, but it is always among the tears that I am able to find some solace. Having sustained the second break in my left leg in five months is really getting to me. I will not be walking for at least three more months.

We all have our own coping mechanisms. Mine has usually been to be staunch, sturdy and independent. And I am proud of those qualities in me; however, there is always the flip side, right?

My mother used to say, "Let 'er rip" when she thought something was being held back.

Her life was kind of "Let It All Hang Out" style, and I was often embarrassed and disgusted with her. A question of balance is what I am talking about here.

And it did not take me long to realize that there was not room for two drama queens under the same roof., so I became the buttoned-down girl who tended to the drama and cleaned up the emotional messes.

I raised myself to avoid crying. I raised myself to buck-up. I was taught that others had bigger problems than mine, and that if I let loose with my feelings then all I was doing was making things worse for others.

I especially remember being told this when my parents were divorcing. I was twelve, and my mother's parents had come to help out, for my mother was in helpless mode. My job, I was told, was to be strong for my mother.

My Victorian era grandmother told me me that a display of emotions is undignified. My grandfather agreed. He once wrote me a letter in which he said that I was too nice of a girl to have problems. I dearly loved my Mamie and Father John. Theirs was my Safe House. And because I adored them I practiced what they taught. I learned to maintain a stiff upper lip and let 'er rip with a therapist who got paid to listen.

Now my father's advice about what to do with unpleasant feelings and situations was to tell me that I needed to learn to be more mechanical. I can do mechanical. I can immerse myself in routines, and aimless ambitions, but I can only do this for so long.

And now with the inability to walk I must dig deep to devise distractions that I can do while in a chair. This is my challenge for now. I am figuring it out, but how I long to take my walks during these beautiful fall days. Perhaps those walks will be even sweeter when I can take them.


These days I am back to crying more. I have been crying about loss- my sister's stage 4 cancer, many dear friends who are dealing with very serious health problems, and the fact that my beloved cat is growing very old and a bunch of other stuff. I am craving escape from the sadness. And then the tears kind of clean me out for a spell. I take a deep breath. I see the prism the sunlight makes dancing on the wall, and I am okay again for awhile.Tears are a form of grace.