When I get sad, down, depressed, whatever the term, I let myself wallow in it.
No motivation to do anything except be sad.
I never really thought about it beyond experiencing the emotion until it came up in my mastermind group for creative professionals.
It bothered some people that I was sad and content to stay sad. Others thought it was an interesting approach.
But here’s the thing: as women we’re trained to assume masks. Super mom. Energetic household organizer. Do it all, have it all, be it all.
And fucking do it with a smile.
There are books on finding happiness. How to be happier. There are endless internet memes on being happy.
As though sadness was to be avoided at all costs. A failure to emote properly.
Men are trained to be stoic which is equally unfair.
And so we’re left with good emotions and emotions to avoid at all costs.
I don’t know about you, but I’m a whole human being. I love, I loath, and I swing equally between happy and sad. To ignore the sad side of me would be to say that a good chunk of me is bad. Undesirable. To be discarded.
My friend just emailed me because she finally allowed herself to be sad. In a funk as she put it. Instead of pushing the emotions aside as undesirable, she let them play out.
And guess what? She feels all the better for doing so.
So there it is: the one good reason to take the mask off.