Sorrow, Strength and Stoicism
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I spent a great deal of hell week in tears and because of that I berated myself constantly with thoughts of weakness and inadequacy. I cried tears of frustration as I struggled with every damn task I was given, tears of pain when physically injured (and that was a daily occurrence), tears of fear, fatigue and insecurity. Hell I even threw in a few snivels of self pity, I'm ashamed to say, which I quickly quashed. I wasn't in a great head space before I left for Norway, but by the end of the week I was thoroughly demoralised and beaten, and I've been shamed ever since at my lack of fortitude. Particularly in contrast to the ever tough and imperturbable ex-military instructors we had training us and who I hero worshiped. (Thank you Conrad, Gary and Rob).
I came to a realisation last night, albeit after 4 Jack & Cokes, that I can't abide emotional outbursts in myself. It's fine for others, and I'm certain that I respond compassionately and sensitively to anyone who needs it. It's just a personal standard that I seem to have misguidedly set somewhere along the way. There is something embarrassing about the loss of control when I cry. The tears boil over and can't be stopped. It angers me and I loathe others seeing me so exposed. I feel like a weak and irrational female. I even can't stand films that strike such an emotional chord in me that I cry. I find myself frozen in horror in the cinema. Do I risk a subtle wipe of the face? Will mopping up the emotional out-pour draw attention from the disapproving masses?
Last night over drinks Greg paraphrased an article he had once read by a high powered woman. She was in a top corporate position and contended with a lot of stress in her job. Every so often she would close the door to her office and have a good cry at her desk. In this article she said something to the effect of "I'm a woman, sometimes I need to cry to deal with emotion. It doesn't make me weak. I'm not uncomfortable with that so deal with it."
Somewhere along the line I learned that to be stoic is to be strong, an impossible benchmark considering that the occasional sobbing fit is totally beyond my control. I couldn't even allow myself to grieve openly for the death of my father. I was angry at my family's public grief because it seemed to me attention seeking and self-serving. Yet I was angry when they leaned on my apparent strength for support. Twisted, I know.
Last night I had an epiphany. Strength isn't ignoring your emotions, it's dealing with them. I am a woman. I am emotional. I do on occasion need to cry to let out my stresses.
In my battle to be strong and independent I have mistaken many things and I'm bound to misjudge many more. However hell week and last night's alcohol fuelled therapy session has allowed me to destroy two self-imposed fallacies.
1) To share your problems is to depend on help.
2) To emote is weak.
Now that I'm over those it goes a long way to explaining why I'm up at 04:00 having a very public, emotional outburst to you the perfect stranger.
Whatever people. I'm female. It doesn't make me weak. Get over it!
(Stunning pic courtesy of fdecomite. http://www.flickr.com/photos/fdecomite/1380664755/)
