Even tough chicks get the blues

I’m a hard ass — or so I’ve been told. It takes more than a sappy movie or the death of some random wizard to make me cry. I’m not afraid to get dirty — or hurt. I’ll slide into third base and tear up the skin on my knee (I was safe, by the way). I’ll tear down a deck or dig up a stump. Growing up with three big brothers, I learned not to take anybody’s crap. I’m a tough chick.

So why do I feel so blue? Is it because the water building up behind the wall you’ve constructed finally wear it away and there’s no stopping the flood that follows? Is it because it’s sometimes all too much BS to deal with, and you just need a break from reality? Maybe it’s because loss is so hard, whether it’s a family member who’s been ill, a job or something you didn’t know you wanted until recently. Maybe it’s all of those things coming at the same time, and even if you’re a tough chick, you have to let go and be blue for a bit.

Pull myself up by my bootstraps? Suck it up? Sure I will. In a minute.