Well, when it comes to ActiveRain I have been kind of quiet all week long. While I've popped into the rain here and there... and made some comments, I have not posted. I didn't post for a couple of reasons. First, after reading many of the last few posts by Jeff Turner I have been moved deeply and profoundly and I am doing much reflecting, both personally and professionally. Next, since this was to be my 100th post, I wanted it to share something of value, something thought provoking.
Many of you who have read my posts have enjoyed my "unique" sense of humor. I've used humor to attract your attention and share my thoughts... especially when it comes to home staging.
But every now and then, if you have followed along my posts or read any my comments you will noticed that I have let out a "secret"... I am a crier.
Crying is a part of me. I see it as Yin to the Yang of laughing. It is a gift God gave me. It was as if He was going to allow me to make a person laugh... He wanted me to also know and relate to what makes people cry.
I cry when I see people overcome insurmountable obstacles, I cry over blatant injustices, I cry when I see people achieve their dreams, I cry when people fail after giving all they could, I cry at overwhelming kindness, I cry for expressions of profound love and gratitude, and I cry when I see the deep pain and sorrow that holds and surrounds people.
It is no secret showing emotion (crying) is often viewed as a sign of weakness in our society. So people, mainly men, choose not to show emotion. In the pursuit of perfection, the "better" way is to hold it in and stuff it down. That way, the world only sees what we allow... a perfect person, flawless and unflappable. But I am not sure that is the answer. The Center for Disease Control reports that suicide is the eighth leading cause of death for all U.S. men and that males are four times more likely to die from suicide than females.
I sometimes wonder what would have happened if as a child, my brothers and I had seen our own father cry. Would he have been less of a man? Less of a father? I think not. But I can't help but wonder... what would happen if society gave way to a fuller expression of emotions?
I ask this now, as an adult and after finally seeing my father cry. But I did not just see my father cry... I saw him weep. Weep for the loss of his first born son. A son that chose to take his own life. A son who to the world had it all... the perfect life. But "perfect" was a hard facade for my big brother to constantly maintain... a man that did not cry.
So today, on the 2nd anniversary of my brother's death, I promise you, within a quiet moment of a memory of my big brother... I will cry.