Overwrought With Emotion

When I was a little girl, five years old to be exact, I remember telling my mother that I was afraid to go to school for the first time.   She told me to be brave and that if I felt like I was going to cry, to take a deep breath and swallow the tears.

I took her message to heart and it became a sort of mantra for me.  If I could not keep my emotions in check, I would at least keep them private. 

My quiet reserve slowly and steadily absorbs droplets of sadness, worry and pain.  Each icy drip expands as I examine it, mull it over and store it in its own private space  They are shape shifters and take on forms, with familiar faces.  After a while they become habitual and permanent residents.

Yesterday I whispered that I am afraid.   Although my reserve is deep,  I fear it is nearing capacity.  Even though the walls have been solid, I have begun to recognize signs of weakening.
Anxiety and grief are unrelenting.  They obey no rules of bravery or any form of decorum.  They strike without notice or explanation.
Yesterday, as uncontrollable tears burned my eyes and warmed my cheeks, I struggled and gasped for each breath.  With clenched fists over my ears, I tried to block out the sound of my mother’s voice,  "Be brave. Don’t cry. Take a deep breath, swallow the tears.”
"You are overwrought with emotion,"  I vaguely remember Ross saying to me yesterday.
Such a funny old fashioned way of describing hysteria, I curiously thought to myself.

I have created a page for Anna's Diary.  It can be found under the Tab titled Anna's Diary.

I have posted all of the entries to date there, starting with January 1, 1929.

Here is today’s entry from Anna’s diary:
Thurs. May 23, 1929
Went to Cemetery to see if headstone was put on grave.  Not yet.  Brought deed of plot to Mr. Larson.  Went to Mrs. Nap for supper.  She gave it for her nephew and niece leaving for Washington.