Picturesque XXXIV
Written: 2/11/02The idea that crying admits weakness has been a part of our species for as long as we can all remember and then some. Only until recently have we decided that it is okay to cry. I, however, beg to differ.
I have always attempted to refrain from expressing any negative emotions in public; I am not one to readily accept sympathy. Why I do not know because, oddly enough, I am the one that readily offers sympathy to anyone else.
When I cry I am alone; there is no offer of sympathy and when I am finally calmed no one knows of my troubles. Why should people know? It is my problem and mine alone; I must not inconvenience others with problems I can most likely take care of on my own.
How this has come to pass I am not really sure. Perhaps it has something to do with past experiences with former friends; I would tell them things that I asked them not to repeat, but they would do so, and once right in front of me; I have lost a sense of confidentiality with my friends, past and present. Here is a thought: while I lost the will to gain offline friendships my online friendships blossomed; I never found out if my new online friends broke my confidences my offline “friends” did, so I had no reason not to trust the new communities I found online.
I do not cry in public because no one besides myself can solve the problems. When I tell my mother my troubles she is sympathetic, but can do nothing; when I spoke to counselors about people ridiculing me they did nothing. Why tell “authority” figures your troubles when they can do nothing?
By crying, I admit my troubles; by crying alone, I admit my troubles to myself alone, for I am the only person who can take care of my troubles; I am the only person who cares.
What has prompted me to realize this? Last night I had a flashback, to a time of depression and mourning. Come February 28 the flashback will come again, at approximately 4 PM, when I had learned Uncle Myron had left our plane of existence. I cried last night, as I will probably cry next Thursday, only I will cry alone, so I do not have anyone troubling me as my mom troubled me last night. A few tears escaped at the dinner table, tears only I should have known of and acknowledged. But somehow my mother saw, and reacted. I cannot blame her, I suppose, as she is my mother, but I do not need or wish for sympathy, not now. I can help myself; I want to help myself; let me help myself.
