Sorrow is Like a Precious Treasure

“Sorrow is like a precious treasure, shown only to friends.” (Madagascar)

In the era of social media and virtue signaling, most people curate their identities. We show the best of us, hiding the ugly and painful. Over and over again we debate whether our true authentic selves should be shown to the public. I used to be a firm believer that I should live in the open. I’m not so sure now.

When I watch strangers on internet sites burn and tear each other down—especially prominent people—I consider if these people gave them the wood and the fire to do so. Should you put yourself out on Front Street?

Pain and sorrow are very intimate experiences. No two people experience them the same. Strangers make their ridiculous assumptions and do not recognize that how this struggle appeared for them might look differently for another. There’s another proverb: all happy families are the same, but all unhappy ones are different. We all know what joy, safety, and happiness looks like (at least supposedly). Yet for each individual in sorrow, it looks and feels different.

When I am going through a rough time, my friends know what I need. Mashed potatoes. No road trips or daytime dishing. Just mashed potatoes. It helped me get through my father’s death. It helped me get through my divorce. Hey, it helped me get through my sadness about my ups and downs with my weight. (Perhaps that was too personal.)

Since each sorrow is so unique, it’s important to share that struggle with the ones you know love you enough to know what you need to pull through. No platitudes from strangers, no nasty attacks from them either.

Maybe I will be a little more guarded when I discuss my sorrow, but my friends will still be with me with some mashed potatoes.