Beneath the Oak
There are a multitude of things that thrive in the protective cover of a larger element. The under-story. Beautiful azaleas, dogwoods and impatiens will flourish in shade with only an occasional glimpse of the sun. Unfortunately, ugly things will also take root in the shadow of something bigger.
Under nourishing shelter and camouflaged by my usual hopeful attitude, I am quietly cultivating an unsightly (pun intended) bed of doubt, sorrow and defeat. My own under-story.
Several years ago, I made a definitive choice to be a positive, upbeat person. I have been known to annoy my loved ones with my enthusiasm, and when things get tough, I speak of how part of growth is pushing through a little dirt. I coach that we should find “Joy in our journey” and I preach that we should all “Be the change!” (Also, tattooed on my collarbone.)
“You must be the change you wish to see in the world.” Gandhi
As it turns out, no one, including myself, wants to hear that crap when times are tough.
When asked how I’m doing or how I’m feeling, John Q. Public needs to hear that I’m good and that I am getting stronger every day. They need to see me smiling, and they need me to be jovial and apparently, so do I.
We all prefer a bright phenomenon over bitter reality. When someone approaches and inquires of my well-being, if I pay attention, I can see a wince as they await the reply. On the days when reality leaks down my cheek, it makes the inquirer uncomfortable and in turn, makes me “sensitive” and a “crier”.
I choose to protect you and I choose to protect me.
I’m scared. I’m pissed and THIS IS BULLSHIT are unacceptable answers – no matter how honest and accurate.
So for now, I will cry while everyone else sleeps and in the morning, I will smile, crack jokes and shoot glitter out of my ass because that makes this just a little more manageable for all of us.
Eventually though, I will be ok and I will answer those same questions honestly.
