Or, as Mr. Orbison and/or k.d. lang might sing, "Cry-yi-yi-yi-y-ing..."
I'm prone to it. Particularly now that I'm off that numbifying antidepressant Paxil. I'll cry over most anything. Sad stories on NPR. Happy stories on NPR. Cheesy, heartstring-plucking commercials. TV shows. You name it, I'll cry over it.
I also cry when I get frustrated or angry. Which always made me a lousy fighter, since I just dissolve into tears. Now, part of that has to do with the fact that I never learned to process anger in any sort of effective way; I went straight from blowing my top through 7th grade to stuffing my anger in the name of social acceptance.
I'm sure part of it is genetic (I remember particularly Mom crying over a television program on Eleanor Roosevelt and getting cranky with me for snickering). So, there it is: I cry. I cry at really really inopportune moments. Like meeting with dissertation committee members. Or playing a board game and getting frustrated because I can't seem to remember the rules.
So, sore loser *and* cryer. Whoo-boy.
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2 comments:
That makes two of us. I've always been emotional, but learnt pretty early on how socially unacceptable it is to cry. A teacher in grade 2 told me I was still attached to the umbilical cord because I missed my mom and cried about it at school. When I worked at my university newspaper I got a note in my mailbox and a pacifier. The note read, "For babies only." I had stupidly let my guard down and cried over the fact that this guy who supposedly had a "crush" on me kept throwing my writing into the Mac desktop trash can. Oh, but I digress . . . Being sensitive is a beautiful part of who you are. According to Joni Mitchell laughing and crying are the same release. It's got to be healthy, if Joni Mitchell's endorsing it.
Amazing we CAN cry...a dadism, "stop crying before I give you something to cry about."
So let's celebrate the fact we survived with our ability to express that emotion. Ok, so sometimes its not the right time, but dammit, we still have our tear ducts.
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