that which seems like progress is not necessarily

my wonderful therapist asks in an email, are you ok? and how do i answer that? how do those of us who have been taught from birth how to function no matter what, who have been expected to bear not only ourselves but others as well and to suffer in silence, how are we to speak up and say no, enough, i am not ok? 


it could always be worse. other people are plenty worse. my not-ok-ness is insignificant. 


right?


i've been thinking lately that being high-functioning is not an achievement. would that i had the capacity to break down, to stop going to work and paying bills, to fall in a sobbing screaming puddle on the floor. i dream of it. but i can't do it. so it all gets bottled up and vomited out or cut into my flesh while i wear the pretty face and smile and hold others together. 


i've been told i always have a choice but i don't, i don't, i don't. i guess i can't explain it. we are silent martyrs for those who can't appreciate it, but my god, how it does take its toll.