I grew up with very low pain tolerance level.
When I was small I whined for every little pain. Each whine, I cried. And for each cry, I ran and sobbed at my mother’s comfort.
Now I am old enough, a full grown man but maybe I have not outgrown my pain tolerance, yet. I do not whine everything to my mother anymore, or even to anyone else. I must have mastered the art of being incognito. I seldom lay down my cards, especially when I am at loss.
Been through tougher and more complicated days -- moments when I felt so knocked down, lost and torn. But stereotype-me, a man afraid of showing his true emotions, crying is a big no-no. Shedding tears is a pure display of weakness, defeat, failure.
Poker faced. I am.
I used to cry alone, where no one could see me. In times of turbulence, I’d prefer to be alone. I’d rather plunge myself into a secluded beach or take myself into higher grounds – to escape, to reflect, to relax, to breathe in, to shout, to cry, to be a critic of my own self and to be a different and stronger person when it’s time to go back to the real world. Damn! I really miss those days.
Strange though, there are moments that I am willing to sacrifice half of my being to partake with someone else’s pain….