Sunday, August 19, 2007
My Crying Drought, Ruined
I have never been a huge weeper. I bawled hard when my pets died or had to be put to sleep. But even when my adored father died a few months after having a terrible stroke, I didn't wail much. He died as I was joking around with my brother in his hospital room while mopping his forehead with a warm washcloth (my father's, not my brother's), and admittedly I bawled pretty hard for hours after that shocking incident. But then the tears dried up, even at his funeral, and not for lack of grief. I just wasn't a weepy woman.
But when my marriage broke up, I bawled many, many times a day for months. I cried at work, at home, in public, at friends' houses, walking past his girlfriend's office, wandering the neighbourhood looking for a stubborn cat ... I wept so much, so often that I wondered how my body could possibly produce any more tears (is it like breast milk -- the more you produce, the more you have?) And so I was feeling really feeling proud of myself lately because I hadn't cried about my marital breakup since July 18. Not once. When I started to feel the tears welling up, I ordered them to go away. They didn't even well up at all in Spain, and not really since I returned. I was really feeling like I was turning a corner.
This weekend, there was a setback -- and right after that uplifting Friday with the compliment from the beautiful stranger! My estranged husband did something that hurt and angered me and I got mad and cried and ranted and cried and ranted and cried and ranted and cried and ranted some more. The weekend has ended, however, with me merely feeling remorseful and ashamed about the ranting, as I always do, and so no more ranting, just crying and crying and crying and crying some more. I haven't left the house all weekend. My children think I have the flu and keep bringing me drinks and cold washcloths. If they know I am crying, they are too polite to say so, and I am adept at hiding it when I hear them coming upstairs to my bedroom/office. I also managed to make spaghetti and meatballs and peach cobbler for dinner without weeping into the bowls and pots and pans.
So now I have to start my no-crying count all over again. I had gone past the one-month mark! And now I have to start it all over again, and try to return to being the kind of woman who doesn't cry very often.
Go away, tears. Piss right off.