Sometimes life just gets me down
despite how good I have it. It isn’t right
to compare myself with others who are
less fortunate in order to feel good.
Actually it makes me even sadder.
My mother taught me when I was five
not to share my sorrows with others
when asked how I was, because they
really weren’t interested. “Just say
I’m fine thank you, and how are you?”
She would also say, “There you go
again with those great big crocodile tears,
save them for when you’re grown up and
really need them.” Her message, “Nothing
is real until you’re grown up?”
Will adults care when I am grown up? It
seems everyone, now, says, “I’m fine
thank you, and how are you” “I’m fine,” I
say as I give them a big smile, whether
it’s a fine day or quite the opposite.
For a while, when down I’d pour my heart out
to a therapist so she could fix me and I
wouldn’t feel sad anymore. Except she asked me,
“Where is your rage!" "Where are your tears?
You share the saddest things?”
“I want to see your anger, punch this pillow!.” It felt
phony. “I’m fine thank you.” “See you next week.”
I’d cry in my car all the way home. Refresh my
make-up to greet my family with my smiling face.
Next week would never come.