Today I cried. Not because I was sad, but the lesson that we are not totally alone in our experience can be very comforting. The act of crying is a normal experience for many people, and the first sentence would seem quite trivial. Talk to my husband, who still can’t believe I didn’t cry at our wedding and he can give you a long list of times he has hoped I would cry, out happiness of course.
I grew up in a less than ideal home and place. Each day was a mystery as to what kind of day it would be. There was the typical absentee father, then a very abusive sister and then the matriarch, I should say matriarchs, all wrapped into one. Yes, mom has multiple personalities, it’s not as cute in real life as it is on TV. There was also a younger brother that I always felt responsible for protecting. Living in such a house I layered up with allot of armor, distance and a big imagination.
It has not been an easy journey to make the armor permeable and flexible. While I like to think it served me well while growing up a story I read brought one of my own experiences rushing through my core.
I should describe myself, at nearly 40 I can stretch myself to almost 5’3 and I weigh about 118, the most I have ever weighed (except when preggo). So at 12 years old I might been close to my looming height, but I was pretty scrawny, and way too scrappy. A friend and I were taking a walk, we happened to walk down the ‘wrong’ street. To shorten the story, first about 5 girls tried to beat me up, then a group of guys took turns, three of them held me while at least two of them punched, kicked and kneed me. They kept telling me they would quite if I would apologize for walking on their street, or if I would cry.
These thoughts occurred to me after reading the article X is for eXtreme, by Jeffrey Pierce. ( http://jeffreypiercebooks.blogspot.com/2011/04/x-is-for-extreme.html )I now have to laugh at myself. What a silly thing to be afraid of; crying.