The other day I listened to Glennon Doyle having a conversation with Ross Gay. For those of you who aren’t familiar with Ross, he is a poet and writer known for emphasizing the expression of joy and delight. Ross mentioned to Glennon that one day, feeling delighted with life, he decided to write an essay a day on delight, which resulted in his bestseller, The Book of Delights.
As their enlivening conversation unfolded, I was fascinated by how much I resonated with Ross. He was a nice man with an infectious laugh. I would wager that I was as startled as he was when, after this pleasant half-hour conversing, Glennon made an abrupt turn and said, “Ross, I need to talk about crying.”
Turns out she was referencing an interview where Ross had said, “If people saw me cry, I’d have to kill them and everything else around.” The obvious comeback to a statement like that would be, “Why would you say that?” And so that’s basically what Glennon said, “Ross, why?”
Ross described how he was trained by his college football coach and society in general that tears were weak. He explained, “I didn’t want anyone to see me as fragile.”
I knew he wasn’t talking about killing in a literal way; he was a poet using hyperbole to express just how closely he guards his tears. I felt I understood why he might have put it that way. I worry to death about appearing fragile too.
I recalled when we have friends over and are having a great time playing cards. After a couple games, the question comes up whether or not we play another round or stop for the evening. Let’s say I’m tired and would really like to stop and have time to get ready for bed in a leisurely fashion, especially if I have a big day coming up. Do I say, “Let’s stop for now and pick up next time?” No. I’d almost think about killing someone before I would say that. I put on my poker face and expectantly wait for others to show their cards of exhaustion first.
What prevents me from saying what I want? I’m pretty sure admitting that I’m tired and done with socializing for the evening would be considered a weakness and makes me look fragile. I was raised in a family where being tired was a sign of weakness, especially when interacting with other people.
Isn’t it interesting how we learn which feelings and experiences can be expressed? Do you hide your fragile parts? Please break your silence and share your secret in the comment section.
IMAGE: The Guardian doesn’t know it yet but they are coming inside next week when the roofers begin work. Isn’t the sun-dappled yard beautiful?
