I have never liked crying. I remember when I was a kid and we came home from vacation and somehow our cat had died at the vet, I went into my room and stuffed a towel under my door so I could cry alone. My mom and dad came in, though, and cried with me. (That was sweet.)
As an adult, I still don’t like it. It’s too emotion-y, and I get a nasty headache afterward. I have a coping mechanism for not crying in sad situations: I think about eating carrots. Some children’s book (Farmer Boy?) has a great description of eating a carrot – the harder, outer ring and the icy, juicy inside. I start thinking about that and the tears dry up. It’s been handy at many a funeral.
I do get teary at certain things, though. (Drat my getting older.) Heart-tugging videos or commercials bring watery eyes and a drippy tear. Then it’s carrots.
The downside of all this is that once in a while I recognize the need for a soul-purging weep, and I can’t drum it up. When things get crazy I’ll think, “If I could just cry than I could move on from this,” but instead it’s just frustrating, angry me raging around for a while.
(Yeesh. This makes it seem like I’m sad all the time. I’m not! Don’t think I’m spiraling into depression, I just am getting to my ‘today’ story. That was all back story.)
So, I am running up against some deadlines (anxiety), last night at a meeting there was a heart-tugging, awesome devotion at my meeting (teary eyes), this morning there was a little frustration at the start (no tears, but anxiety), than a thank-you note from a parent that made me teary, then the last thing I heard in the car was one of the unspeakable things those kidnappers did to one of their ten-year-long captives.
A minute of crying in the car. A good cry.
And back to carrots.