Yesterday was a very emotional day for me. Do you know why? I will tell you. Because I'm a girl. Anyone who has ever done pressure canning will understand this analogy. If a pot builds up enough steam without an outlet, it will blow up. I won't tell you how I know this because I don't want to embarrass my mother with the terrible chicken catastrophe of 1998. I won't tell you that she wound up with chicken escaping the pot with such velocity that it cracked the ceiling in several spots, leaving parts embedded in them, then ricocheted down with such force as to dent the entire top of the stove, rendering it unusable. I would never humiliate her by sharing this with you, dear readers. I won't add that the insurance appraiser then spread the vicious rumor around town, creating a local celebrity of some notoriety. No, that wouldn't be right.
But, I digress. Sometimes, as women, we just reach the boiling point. Pressures build and steam must have a vent. It doesn't matter if it's sadness, melancholy, anger, exhaustion, or what have you. All I know is that when the steam builds to that point, we must allow it to escape. We have to find an outlet, but fast! It could be crying, which is one of my favorites. It could be laughing hysterically in all the wrong circumstances. It could be physical intimacy, which I can't participate in. Or drinking, also a no-no. Or drugs. BEEP! Not that either. So, I listen to songs that bring back sweet memories or put on a favorite cathartic movie, and I let 'er rip. I mean, from the toes up through the gut and out of the mouth in the most mournful sound imaginable. Or course, I warn everyone first.
"I'm going to go and have a jolly good cathartic cry. Pay no attention to the bellowing in the next room, next house, or next town over. OK, maybe it doesn't get that loud, but it does sometimes carry, depending on the cloud formations and humidity level.
Today, I am better. I am thankful for the privilege of being a woman and having this wonderful opportunity to get emotional out of my system and into the night air.
Peace and love,
Becky Lyn
But, I digress. Sometimes, as women, we just reach the boiling point. Pressures build and steam must have a vent. It doesn't matter if it's sadness, melancholy, anger, exhaustion, or what have you. All I know is that when the steam builds to that point, we must allow it to escape. We have to find an outlet, but fast! It could be crying, which is one of my favorites. It could be laughing hysterically in all the wrong circumstances. It could be physical intimacy, which I can't participate in. Or drinking, also a no-no. Or drugs. BEEP! Not that either. So, I listen to songs that bring back sweet memories or put on a favorite cathartic movie, and I let 'er rip. I mean, from the toes up through the gut and out of the mouth in the most mournful sound imaginable. Or course, I warn everyone first.
"I'm going to go and have a jolly good cathartic cry. Pay no attention to the bellowing in the next room, next house, or next town over. OK, maybe it doesn't get that loud, but it does sometimes carry, depending on the cloud formations and humidity level.
Today, I am better. I am thankful for the privilege of being a woman and having this wonderful opportunity to get emotional out of my system and into the night air.
Peace and love,
Becky Lyn
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