A Good Cry

The term 'having a good cry' is confounding to me.

I mean, to put it in the simplest way possible, crying simply isn't good for me.

Okay, I understand some people cry when they are overcome with happiness, but I'm not one of those people. Even when I cry at weddings, it usually isn't because I am so thrilled for the people involved. Most likely it's because I think the person is making a huge mistake. Of course, I probably shouldn't have admitted that. I mean, now if you see me crying at your wedding you're going to think I'm not supportive, like you're making the most unwise decision of your life. Please, if you invite me to your wedding, and you see me bawling my eyes out, just assume you are the exception, not the rule.

Now that I've covered myself, let me delve a little deeper into this whole 'good cry' thing.

Crying, like from-the-gut-sobbing-can't-control-the-tears-bawling, is a very bad thing. I get that people think it is cleansing and a wonderful way to release pent up emotions. But I'd rather sweat out the toxic sadness with exercise or vent it in the form of a good string of curse words. It totally sucks to be reduced to a bag of tears and isn't in any way refreshing.

You know what's refreshing? A bubble bath or eucalyptus steam.

Not only does crying make me look like hell, but I feel like hell - but hell on a bad day, not a lukewarm afternoon when Lucifer isn't in such a damning mood.

While I am sitting here thinking about the act of being reduced to weeping mess, all that keeps playing in my head are the horrible, terrible, awful things. And yes, I did need three words to describe the same thing there. Let's look at the outcome of these so called 'good' cries. Sore Eyes. Runny Nose. Puffy Face. Snotty sleeves. Pounding temples. Feeling like an utter moron if people are around to bear witness to the spectacle, and feeling turdish if I'm alone. (Turdish is totally a new word for us all to enjoy) Let's face it, blubbering is ugly. Not even babies or supermodels can make it attractive.

Have you ever cried and there isn't a tissue around? Snot trails down your nose, mixes with the saltiness of your tears, gets in your mouth because crying close mouthed is next to impossible. So, you wipe it on your sleeve, trying desperately to pretend you have everything in control while silently thinking how disgusting it is that your nose is dripping and you are powerless to stop the hideous scene. All you can do is roll with it and try to act like it isn't happening. Yeah. We've all been there.

And apparently women are known for crying. We are identified as criers. Some people even say we can't even control it. Our hormones are to blame. Damn those hormones!

The thing is, I don't cry all that much. Not at cute commercials, or sad movies. I don't spend a lot of time snivelling over burnt toast, my job (or ex-job), or weight gain. My period rarely has me in tears. That said, I know a lot of ladies who do participate in sob-fests fairly often and, to tell you the truth, I admire them. I admire anyone who can own their feelings like that and shove them out there for all to witness.

The whole thing makes me feel far too vulnerable. I mean, it does happen. But since I dislike it so much, when I finally cave into the melancholy monster it is business. And it is messy.

With all this said, I almost cried on the way home from my friends' house last night. It's been hanging out for awhile. I felt it coming, the shudder in my chest, the tension pull behind my eyes, the pain down my throat. But I managed to suppress it. Detour around it for a couple more...hours? Days? Weeks? Who knows?

I mean, it's there, lurking about, waiting patiently for me to let it out. And it's going to happen. I mean, it's all part of human nature and not being an emotionless psychopath. But rest assured, it isn't going to be a 'good cry'. I won't walk away from it feeling rejuvenated and sighing like I've just had a demon exorcised out of me. No, I'll be annoyed and exhausted. I'll want to sleep.

There is, of course, an exception. And that's laughing until you cry. That's just awesome.

Love Is

Because last week's post was all downtrodden and uninspiring, I've decided to write about love. But not the standard witty and funny sort of the thing you've all grown to love. No, more like a list. To lighten the heart and free us (me, really) from the shackles of last week's birthday blues.

So, this is what love is to me.

Love is...

- having a sidekick
- catching a glance and knowing it is only filled with affection
- laughing until you cry
- baking sweet treats and refusing to eat them until the other person has had first taste
- listening first and talking second
- music nerdiness
- having a month long horror movie fest
- sending care packages in the mail
- watching the same film at night even when you aren't together
- smiling when you first wake up
- a Sons of Anarchy marathon while doing a puzzle on a rainy Sunday
- kisses for no reason
- doing things without obligation
- never feeling lonely even when you're alone (though still missing the other)
- snuggling for warmth
- running baths and putting the bubbles in (and lighting the candles)
- turning the television off when the other person falls asleep
- and not smothering them with a pillow when they are snoring
- handmade cards
- actually, handmade anything
- spending a hundred hours on the internet trying to find something amazing to hand make
- washing the other's back (while sneaking a peek at the good)
- pirate ship models
- surprise gifts for no reason
- making the bed without being asked
- thank yous (manners matter)
- not making demands or ultimatums
- not minding the stinky stuff
- good mornings and goodnights, respectively
- leaving a note
- planning for the future
- honest moments
- friendship, and being friends
- a mutual zombie respect
- asking 'how are you?'
- the sound of wooden wind chimes
- home cooked meals
- cleaning house
- having a good story to tell people how it all began
- unwavering support, like that of a jock strap or really good bra
- knowing you always have someone on your side
- celebrating the good stuff
- working through the bad stuff
- not holding back
- reminiscing on dirty moments
- sharing the cake (even when you really, really, really don't want to)
- communicating, even when it's hard
- doing, not necessarily saying
- proving it's true

And such stuff.

Unstoked

It seems like it's been forever since I wrote a post here, when in reality it's only been eight days. I guess I needed a break. To order my thoughts, perhaps. Or maybe life seems a bit unimpressive and I've tried to keep that to myself. For a number of reasons, really. I don't want to drag other people down. And there's no sense moaning about life when it could be so much worse.

I got my health. A roof over my head. Food in my belly. Clothes on my back. Friends and family, though slightly behind me and to the left, they are still there. And cute boys. I have all of these things.

So, why am I feeling so disenchanted?

Well, the daily job is a bummer. It doesn't matter that I'm a firm believer my 9-5 does not define me. I mean, I know it isn't who I am, but it still irks me that it's where I am. Sure, it helps pay some of my bills. But not all of them. Money is constantly hanging over my head. I hate the feeling of doing things simply for the green. They say money doesn't buy happiness, but it sure could make the giant axe wielded by bill collectors seem less sharp. The home I live in. Yeah, it's nice enough, but buying a place seems to have put some restrictions on my future. And maybe that was a silly thing for me to do. I miss my cat.

But above everything else?

My birthday is at the end of the month.

It's a big one. A nice round numbered one. And one that has me feeling unaccomplished. Displaced. Stuck.

Most people reflect on their lives around New Year's day, when they are trying to better themselves, but birthdays are when I really get thinking. Is this it for me? Am I where I'll be for the next five or ten years? Is the dissatisfaction warranted? Or am I just acting foolish? Maybe everyone feels this way every now and again.

It still doesn't change the fact that I want to overhaul everything. Shake things up. And stop watching my life pass me by. Honestly, I don't know where I'll be in a year, and I am fully aware fretting and toiling over these things are useless. There's no guarantee on tomorrow, but today just seems unsatisfying, and it's barely started.

Don't get me wrong. I'm not always like this, but for some reason, I am supremely unstoked lately. Not even the promise of birthday cake on the horizon can rectify that.

And that's another thing. Why are birthdays so disappointing for me? I don't know if I've ever had an amazing one. On one hand, I don't want to be alone, but on the other I don't want to plan something for myself. Guess I'm just lazy. And I suspect that's the culprit of most of my issues these days. Laziness.

Maybe this is what they mean when they talk about the birthday blues.

Help?!

Why do I have such a problem asking for help?

My knee-jerk reaction would be to say it is because I've been let down in the past. That I have asked for help and not received any. Or not received the right kind of help. Half-hearted help. Forced, I-don't-really-want-to-be-doing-this help. Help that comes with begging or the expectation that you have to do something in return.

This might be the case...you know, if I ever asked for help. If the words actually left my lips. But they haven't. I simply don't ask. Sometimes it is offered without me asking, which is ideal, but even then...it's just as hard for me to accept it. Asking and accepting. Two things I apparently don't do very well.

Except, this all runs deeper than the fear of being disappointed and knowing it's easier to just struggle through alone.

Some might blame this on a strange little thing called my independent womanhood. You see, I was raised to do things for myself. And it pays to take care of yourself. My fierce need to be independent is ingrained in me. It's hard to shake. Asking for help threatens that, doesn't it? No, of course it doesn't! Still, I'm determined to be self-sufficient. I don't need anyone to take care of me. Well, not right now...

But what happens when I need help for reals? When I do need to be taken care of? When I'm sick? In pain? Lost? Broken? Will I just suffer in silence? Or wait until someone offers, only to tell them to piss off, while secretly hoping they will insist further?

Last night, stretched out in bed, I realized it's more than my desire to be independent. I'm not all that worried about losing it. I've been playing this game alone for so long that it will always be my natural settling point. And, just between us, I want to be taken care of. I want to have someone else tend to my needs, to have a person to rely on. I don't necessarily want to be alone, a team of one, flying solo. It's easy for me offer up support and help, but to take it? That's where I balk. Screech to a halt. Grind to a stop. Get the cold sweats.

Weird, right?

I mean, if it isn't fear of disappointment or losing my independent womanhood, what could it possibly be?

Simply put, I don't want to be an inconvenience. The idea of someone having to stop what they are doing or take time out of their day to help me actually causes me physical discomfort. As strange as it may sound, I don't want to be a burden. I don't want them to be annoyed about it, like I'm ruining their plans. I don't want someone helping me when they really don't want to, when they have better things to do. Just the act of someone picking me up closes my throat and makes me want to burrow into a hole and hide myself with leaves and twigs.  Especially if it is dark, and rainy, and only one headlight works. All I can think about is how not worth the trouble I am.

I loathe causing other people angst, annoyance, strife, worry, sadness or a disruption.

Okay, at the end of the day, all three of these things contribute to my anxieties over asking for help. My independent womanhood, the fear of being disappointed and not wanting to be an inconvenienced all exacerbate my already ridiculous inability to vocalize my wants and needs. So, what can I do?
How the heck should I know? I write the posts, I don't solve my problems. Sometimes it's unawesome to be so self aware. I guess all I can do is work through it.

Here and now, I vow to ask for help today. Well, maybe not today, but tomorrow for sure. And if not tomorrow...Friday. For sure. And the next time someone offers help, I'm going to take it. Even if it is for something silly.

Lately, it's become very clear that I'm difficult...and human.