flamboyant

Moping wasn’t really allowed in my house when I was growing up. My parents weren’t oblivious or uncaring about our feelings. They were very nurturing people who were quick to try and soothe their daughters’ woes with hugs and kind words. You were absolutely allowed to feel how you felt in our house. What you couldn’t do was dwell in your misery.

At some point you were expected to get out of your funk. People were only going to listen to your sob story for so long before the inevitable question would be asked: “What are you going to do about it?”