I have to convince myself.

Oh, I cope with life all right. Not perfectly. I go awry from time to time. Into psychologically questionable practices. But I eventually get my way out. It's just a temporary way of coping. And I'm not sure there's a normal way and an abnormal way. Just ways. Some rather positive. Others, maybe negative. Depending on one's point of view. I tend to not want to lose it. To go berserk. To go into a quandary. To become disconsolate. I have my little moments of sadness. Lamentations. But I tell myself, get over it. No reason to feel sorry for one's self. Because I really haven't had it that bad. So far. I grieve. But in my own way. I think of reasons not to grieve. Or to grieve, and then get over it. No sense in grieving for a prolonged period. That makes one chronically unhappy. This attitude of mine perturbs some people. They think I get over it too easily. But that's not the case. Instead, I prefer to compact bad times, sad times. Makes sense, doesn't it? Often, I work it out. Inside me. And in writing. I see it. I put it into words. Words that I understand. Ain't necessary for others to understand. I have to convince myself. Not others. --Jim Broede