But I’ve never had a problem with crying when something I deeply cared about turned so far sideways it was no longer salvageable. Could be I’m the youngest, “the baby” and didn’t have to be as tough because I was “only little”, and now I don’t worry about bottling everything up, or pushing until I break. I certainly see those constraints placed on others, to have had to Man-up, Nut-up or Sack-up and carry on as though nothing had happened. Give a guy a chance to breathe and they’d be a lot healthier both physically and mentally. A lot of shit can really shake you. Doesn’t mean they won’t come back and power through, but given a chance to atleast admit, “jesus this shit is sucking at my will to live!”, then go back and accomplish said thing might actually let some of these folks live a semi-normal life if they come out the other side. Human beings feel things. It’s not a weakness. But you have to be willing to work through it, or it’ll eat you up and kill you in one way or another. Shits hard yo! Give’em a chance to breathe, grieve or get angry before demanding more sacrifices of them. Dudes dropping dead in their forties and fifties because they suppressed every single emotion after the age of three is a nasty pill to swallow. Good on that Rugby dude for knowing when his head wasn’t in the right place. To show human frailty takes courage, especially if it’s getting at you internally, and becoming noticeable externally via physical ailments and maladies. Tough to see.
It is now Saturday. I’m off to visit family for an evening. My folks just celebrated their 50th wedding anniversary in Campbell River with two of my brothers. The sun is out, it’s warm but not scorching hot. Lovely day to be alive. Ciao Bella!
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