Many times in my life I was sad. Ive spent years depressed years sad. Sad little strawberry.
As a young woman everyone expressed emotions in my home regularly.
we rarely used words or descriptions. conversations were null and void. My mother would disappear for a week smoking dope and fucking her husband in hotels and lavish Seattle homes of dealers ( the high life). then sleeping it off for three days while us kids figured it out. We would see her at random times screaming about anything. whether it was because I hadn’t cleaned enough or because she thought my step dad wanted to fuck the girlfriend I had over for the evening she would just scream and spit and choke people. My step dad expressed his emotions by Playing guitar loudly through the nights and beating my moms ass when she offended him by accusing him of mis stepping. Surely she was off her rocker!!. ( because it wasn’t my girlfriend he was fucking it was me.)
My family expressed emotion as long as it could be felt DEEPLY. it was normal for us to fight. I remember blackening my baby sisters eye for not cleaning the bathroom properly . I remember the hurt look in her eyes. she said, ” I thought that you loved me” then she cried and went to tell someone safe, an adult, who looked at me and said, ‘ nice right hook!”. the ” adult” agreed with my actions. Afterall mom ( his girlfriend) was gone and somebody had to clean the house. with 4 kids in it she would freak had I not kept everyone in line.
. I felt right…
I was pissed.
a few hours earlier my moms cousin had had me pinned in my bed with a syringe in hand insisting I fuck him for my moms fix. I had run into the living room and sat down on the couch behind her while she watched cartoons hoping he would leave me alone. he sat next to me and whispered in my ear. ” If you say anything to me now your sister will see what I’m doing to you.” he slipped his hands down the back of my pants and finger fucked me. stating that if I sat still she wouldn’t have to see.
he expressed his emotion while I took it in. I let him do what he wanted so the baby didn’t have to be exposed.
Of course later when she couldn’t just clean the bathroom like I asked…. I acted out…. rarely were real emotions expressed.. Anger, rage, control……
lets get to the point
there was no room for crying then. and after years of crying and yelling around as an adult I realized I was just like my mother. I cry by myself now in my own presence where I am safe. I cry when there is time and it usually doesn’t take long. I also tend to cry with people when they have stories similar to mine, when they need permission to be sullen before we build a fortress.
I have no depression. nobody makes me do anything I don’t want to. I enjoy my tears they keep me from making bad decisions and blackening the eyes of those whos heart would break knowing that my love can sometimes be dark. I love to take my space and cry alone. I enjoy my sadness when i get to have it for myself and turn it into what makes me strong. I use it to jog, workout, do better in my work , make plans , travel, be happier than what I was handed and to see the good in everything I live for now.
there isn’t much to be sad about anymore.