I'm not one to cry. Even at funerals, it's hard just to get teary-eyed. Sometimes, though, if I read a very sad part of a book, or try to sing along to "The Car" by Jeff Carson, I can get my eyes to water. That's only because I picture myself as the character. Unfortunately, my emotions get trapped inside for so long.
Thirteen months ago, I broke down uncontrollably due to general displeasure about how my life has been going. I was feeling very ill and left work early the night before. I fell asleep at seven and woke up at about nine the next morning. We had a snow storm and my mom was relentlessly yelling at me to go out and shovel. I had all intentions of doing so without the yelling, but when she walked up the stairs, I broke down hitting the door and putting a hole in it. My brother ran inside from hearing my screaming. I've never felt so embarrassed in front of my own family before, but I couldn't hold back the tears. I couldn't even speak for a few minutes. I've left the door in that condition to remind me every time I walk by.
I guess that's what happens when you always try to be positive about everything and not let anything get to you for a while. Inside, it can be tearing you apart.
It took a while, but I just replaced that door this past weekend.
PArms