Does anyone know this phrase any more? It was often repeated in my family, where stoic endurance was a highly prized virtue. I came to find it irritating, and tried to delete it from my lexicon, but it has raised its annoying head again in connection with my broken jaw.
After a few weeks of summoning uncharacteristic sympathy with my wounded self (though not outwardly demonstrative about my physical discomfort, psychic damage, etc.), I’ve gradually reverted to the well-trodden paths of my youth, and castigating myself with frequent vicious, hateful recriminations. ‘Grow up, you stupid baby!’ my inner bad cop hisses. ‘You’re not dying! What a drama queen — your namby-pamby bullshit makes me sick.’ I won’t even quote the worst of it — I really do reserve my meanest streak for myself.
Maybe we all do — do you? When I actually stop and listen to what I’m spewing, the accusations and tone seem almost insane to me. I would never say such things, in such voice, to another human being. Yet most of the time, I’m helpless to stop. I’m like the stereotypical abusive parent who claims ‘this hurts me more than it does you.’ I hate my harshness, but seem convinced it’s for the best. After all, surely I can’t be trusted to monitor myself without these iron knuckles at my throat. Even after a few years of therapy, I don’t know where I got such twisted notions. But at least I can see them now, and hear the undeserved cruelty of that scolding voice. I wish I could hear an answering voice, a kind and comforting one. Really, don’t we all deserve that?
Linnetontheleaf 
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