Stories We're Not Supposed to Tell

A cousin of mine once compared our family's life to that of a Mexican soap opera. And in many ways, the comparison is quite apt.

However, it has been my experience that every family is a bit like a soap opera -- Mexican or otherwise. Some of us just have better storylines.

Anyway, a friend of mine was feeling sad quite recently because she envied the closeness that my family seems to have. And yet if she knew of the problems they have had to deal with, I doubt she would envy them that much.

Ironically, I always envied my friend because she always seemed to be so cheerful and happy. I, on the other hand, have a tendency to be moody, even when I'm around people I like. And yet as I grew to know more about her, I found that her “happiness” was often a mask similar to the one I mentally don when I'm trying to pretend my feelings weren't hurt.

Indeed, I've known a lot of people who wear a mental mask of some sort because they have problems in their private life that they just don't want to discuss in public. Problems that are probably not improved by public exposure but not improved by private burial either.

I wish I knew the solution to this dilemma. After all, many a time I've hidden my feelings from the world on the premise that if I pretended they didn't exist, they would eventually go away. But that's not true.

Especially when it comes to feeling of insecurity. Or self-loathing. Or unrequited affection.

Everyone has at least one little story to tell -- a story that only he or she knows. A story he or she is not supposed to tell but eventually does. Because if he or she doesn't share such stories with at least one other person, the consequences often prove quite dire.

Right now the person I most often share such stories with is mi mejor amiga. Someday it may be someone else.

But for now, mi mejor amiga will do.