A frustrating consequence of being human is having feelings. Yesterday an assortment of them boiled up and bubbled over while talking to my best friend Angela, and I felt immensely grateful and lucky to have her by my side. Far too often people employ the "just get over it already" approach when it comes to unresolved feelings, no matter how old they might be. I am blessed to have someone who can hear my middle school miseries**, wrap her arm around my shoulder and nod in agreement that what I went through was indeed terrible. It doesn't make me stay in that place of despair and self-loathing; on the contrary, it helps me move beyond it. What is an almost-32-year-old doing processing through feelings that originated in middle school? Well, I suppose we all have to take some time, whenever it feels right, and pat our wounded junior-adolescent selves on the head and tell our younger selves that everything turns out okay. I only wish I had Angela when I was in middle school, and that she had me. What a formidable Leonine hurricane we would've been!
Was middle school tough for you, too?
** I talk about them in the manner that Bill Murray worked through his past in Scrooged; kind of matter of fact coupled with complete confusion as to why I let myself be so tortured.