I have some pretty close friends in my life with whom I’ve allowed the walls to fall down with. Those friends know me and understand, for the most part, how I deal with life and things in it. When I’m happy, I smile and laugh alot. When I’m angry, I rant and rave alot. When I’m sad - I just tend to withdraw inside myself until I feel like it’s ok to express it a little bit. I don’t always express it - sometimes I just deal with it inside my own head and then let it go.

I don’t know - feelings like hurt, sadness, grief, depression - for whatever reason those emotions are very private and personal to me and I don’t feel the need to put on a public display of my heartache. I’ve always been like that.

But then you get the isolated person or two who just doesn’t think that’s right. They think you’re not really sad or grieving unless you are bawling and sobbing your story to anyone and everyone who will listen. And that’s just not me - and why is it that some people are uncomfortable with that? Why do people feel the need to try and draw your grief and sadness out and lay it on the table for the whole world to see and enjoy? It’s weird.

I’ve encountered a few people like that in m life, and I guess I just never understood it.

A few years back, I had a pretty ugly break up with an ex of mine. I don’t like to publicize those things - I just get them over with, deal with it in my own way and then move on down the road. But there was this girl who kept pressing and pressing me to share it with others. She kept on and on about how I should write about my heartaches and hurts because maybe it would help some other poor soul out there who may go through the same thing some day.

I’m sorry - it may sound selfish, but my heartache, hurts and grief’s are not up for sale or lease as a self-help program for the bereaved. She was pressuring me to do this almost immediately after it happened - - how could I possibly have any kind of perspective whatsoever to do something like that? And why would she pressure me to? I hate to think this of anyone - but I have since decided that she was just a really nosey person who liked to butt into people’s lives and then use it as fodder for her chain of gossip. She just couldn’t stand not knowing the details and not having the ability to spread them around to raise herself up to some kind of higher plane of existence because her relationship was so perfect and beautiful. Or so that’s how she liked to portray it, but I digress.

She’s not a nice person in my very humble opinion.

I didn’t experience that level of pressure with the death of my Grandma. But I did experience some of it. Mostly from a few of the jesus freaks that I work with. Nothing against religious people - but don’t you just hate when they shove it down your throat without respecting the fact that you just might have a different way of coping or a different viewpoint on life altogether?

Oh and the huggers!! I was hugged more this week that I think I’ve ever been hugged in my life from people who felt I needed it. And that’s all well and good - but I think the hug makes them feel better, because a hug from a stranger who does not know me or my Grandma, really is quite meaningless, plus it violates my personal space rule.

I love hugs - - but not from people I don’t know. That makes me feel icky. And they just go right ahead and hug without warning. All of the sudden I am grabbed up by some person who I don’t know and have no idea who they were hugging before me. lol I know it’s well intended . . . but I just can’t take anymore of it this week.

So, no hugs. No public crying. No long winded diatribes about my lfe with Grandma.

C. has been wonderful - he’s been calling and giving that extra special attention, but not pushing - but at the same time letting me know he’s there for me and listens quietly when I do decide to talk about it. Makes sure I eat…get enough sleep and take care of myself. I love you, gorgeous man! - you know your girl very well.

My friends Deb, Julie, Linda, Shae - they’ve all done the same. No pushing - just checking in every once in awhile to make sure I’m still breathing, eating, sleeping, etc. Offering support - letting me know it’s there if I want it, but never offended if I don’t take it.

That’s just me. It’s an internal thing for me, always has been.

Just a girl with a hurt, is all. Walk beside her, walk away - she’ll reach out if she needs to.