I watched a sad movie tonight. A really sad one, and had what we women call a "good cry." Isn't funny that we need a fake story to give us a reason to cry, yet when we have every reason to cry we hold back the tears. Well, I guess I can't say we...I do anyway. Maybe it goes back to when I was young. Back then I cried way too much. At everything! That didn't add to my popularity and then more teasing which would produce more tears. That was early childhood grant it, but I think I remember(:. I figured out that I had better suck it up and NOT cry so much. So I didn't. I sucked, sucked, sucked, in a whole bunch of stuff after that. Stand tall at school and let it out at home. Of course after all that bottling up not everything can find it's way back out. Maybe that's why a movie that forces you to cry is so cleansing. Now grant it, I am not seven years old anymore, or five, or nine for that matter. I am not a kid; I am not being teased at school; and don't really have this huge wealth of things to be sad about. Being grown up is just complicated. Sometimes, we just have backed up emotions for no apparent reason. It's nice to have a safe place to dump them. Some of us were given extra sensitive emotions. I am still not sure if that's a good thing or a bad thing. I guess neither. It just is. So for me, sometimes, I need a "good cry." Other times it is a good laugh(:.
As a kid I watched my parents fight about different things. I don't really have any other parents to compare them to so I can't really say whether they were normal fights couples have or not. I couldn't even say what most of them were about except the ones that were about me. We only ate as a family on holidays. My father came home late so we kids ate without him. I do remember spending time with him in the evening before I went to bed so it couldn't have been that late. My own husband gets home a little later because of his job commute so we eat late every night. But home schooling has given us the ability to be more flexible than my Mom was able to be. We had school early the next day. As I got older, I remember my Father being home less and less and the fights seemed to intensify. I remember one night when I was thirteen. I could hear them yelling through the wall. My mom found me crying and I told her I didn't want them to get a divorce. She told me...
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