Pity

It happened today - tonight - just now ... the reason I needed to get to a post I've been thinking about lately. It won't be particularly good writing. It won't be deep nor inspiring. I'm not interested in thrilling you. This one is for me. Just a note to self.

Not long ago, I was PMS'ing - that thing women do, some of us, every four weeks.

I don't know what it was made me misty this time. Nothing important. But I chose, in the moment the hormones gave rise to a swell, to ride a wave of tender emotion.


We can choose that - especially those of us paying attention. Many milk their own volatility without realizing it; needing chocolate and a chick flick, or turning up the music when it's the right - or wrong - song at the right moment. I do it intentionally sometimes. I feel the rise begin, and decide to let it go - or actively squelch myself. Or perhaps I indulge. I reach for the thickness of my own feelings, and pull it around me, sink in - marinate.


***


I feel sorry for men, is the thing here. For all that word above - volatility - comes up: I know the truth of feminine emotion for what it is. Even the choices we're not conscious of ... are still choices, with us. And we can indulge or refine or minimize, which men cannot.

To be sure - some men know how to indulge emotions.

Unfortunately, though, you guys aren't that good at it - and often choose anger to indulge. To cede your control to.

Yeah, women do too. But oftentimes, at least, we control the option. We do it on purpose. (Yes, we are maddning. None would have us otherwise. Even those full of hatred.)

You guys, though - are subject to feelings, abused by them. Very melodramatically so, sometimes, if you'll pardon the observation. My stars, a man who's been hurt: he's the first person ever to've been so. He will ... Never Trust Again. He's amazing in his wilful blindness, and in the weakness in the face of pain. Ready to be mastered.

Women ... many capitulate, but that too is a decision. Often one trained into us by passive-aggressive gender roles. My the opera.

Women let the proportions go haywire.

But women have luxury men really can't understand.

I know men feel.

I know men endure powerful sadness.

But women ... have a menu. And a supersize button, in our hormonal cycles.


***


I cried recently. Don't remember why it was.

But I remember the tears in my eyes.

That's the point of crying.