Of Courage and Compliments

When you come home to an empty house, whether there are people there or not, and you have completed a mighty journey, slaying many ferocious dragons....you slowly start removing the armor, laying down daggers, shields and swords. The weariness and aches cry since being allowed to surface under the tense, stress and strain, that had held you together...

And there is no roar of applause from a clam morning crowd. No medals or wreaths or welcoming feasts....

One needs to recognize the accomplishments. One must "pat themselves on their own back", as it were, to use a paltry, contrite saying.

I did great things this weekend. I am proud of my bravery and courage. I can't decide which acts illicit the greatest admiration and courage: daring to attempt such an arduous journey given my current physical state, picking up the phone to call a friend amidst raging....and I do mean raging panic, holding back the tears whilst embracing my son, holding back sobbing as he talked of his feelings, speaking to people, guards, clerks when I felt vulnerable and shaky and would rather have not, keeping my volital emotional self in check as to do no harm..yeah, pretty big stuff.

There are no accolades....I laugh, "what are those?" I've learned not to expect what isn't there. Thus I learn to softly acknowledge such greatgreat, magnificent things that I have done, shallow as it may seem.

Obviously, congratulating myself is a skill I must hone.

Pathetic, though it may be

Eldest and I talked about the discomfort of being complimented. But I also noticed he accepted mine to him with greater ease.

Methinks the rarity of compliments, given my reclusive existence, makes it not easier. Repitition breeds familiarity and ease.

I don't know. Just feeling inwardly bound as opposed to wanting to deal with the empty, hollow outside existence.

Depression typically follows my visits up north. It makes sense. Soooomuchhhhstufffyikes