We are eggs

So it's the new year. I got back from 8 days in Miami (actually Hollywood, FL) this past Wednesday. What's that you say? A tough life? I know. I know. But I help make these trips happen so I deserve it. :) In any case the first 4 days were entirely relaxing, just lazing about from beach to pool to beach. But before you get green with envy I'd like to also say that I had a bit of a mental collapse. Not as dramatic as it sounds but I think I just cracked. I had a stressful week just before Christmas but really it was just me choosing to take the world on my shoulders, as is my nature. And so I snapped. I started crying. Crying. Yes. Crying. And it felt good. One of my other issues is that I don't like feeling week. Not the same as feeling vulnerable because I don't believe I have that problem. But I don't enjoy feeling that I'm not in full control or visibly showing that things do affect me. I'm not quite sure how to explain it but I do know that I was lucky to have someone there to talk me out of it. To tell me it's okay to cry and to not be the one taking care of someone else all the time. To let someone take care of me. It felt good. I know that I have to let other people take charge sometimes but I also have a fear of disappointment and abandonment so if I give those people a chance to care...and they don't I will feel all of the aforementioned things that scare me. Perhaps that's why I try so hard as a person. I want to show people that I deserve it because I've demonstrated as much to them. And so here I am. Writing this post. Pondering a quote that I recently read in "Love in the Time of Cholera:"

'She would not shed a tear, she would not waste the rest of her years simmering in the maggot broth of memory, she would not bury herself alive inside these four walls to sew her shroud, as native widows were expected to do...she would go on living as she always had, without complaining, in the death trap of the poor where she had been happy.'

Why did I feel compelled to jot this quote down?

The first reason is that I really appreciate the level of description: 'The maggot broth of memory?' Who writes that? Gabriel Garcia Marquez did and it's the ability to strike people. To make them feel things through words. This is why I do what I do. While memory is but rarely a maggot broth, it sometimes can be the thing that holds you back. Because it is memory of feeling like a disappointment, feeling like i was abandoned that makes me who I am now. But who am I to question the person I've become? On a normal day, it's awesome and it all works so this is just a vent. A bit of self-reflection as I am also prone to do. It's the things that happen to us, the things that happen around us and between us. The things we go through, the good, the bad, and all the gray area in the middle, that makes us who we are. So we crack like an egg once in awhile. We're human. It's okay.

Thanks to twins one and two who took shifts babysitting me. :)