Cry-Lax

How many of you are annoyed with me? I go private, announce my "comeback" after a retreat into the shadows for a few weeks, only to not really emerge as I had once thought and said.

I'm annoyed with me. 

I'm annoyed with my inability to always see the bright side of life. I'm annoyed with not looking for the positive when it seems like all that is around me is negative ("seems like" are the key words here, for I know I am truly blessed). But at my darkest hours, when I feel most alone and most sad, I try to yet I can't - Cry. 

I envy those with the ability to shed a tear at anything that troubles them. I don't have it... I used to be able to cry a lot... Any time, really. I think the ability stopped when I had kids, when someone else's livelihood and happiness depended on me as a constant strength. I learned to swallow the sadness like a baby does with a teardropper of medicine... Aghast at first, and then easier and easier as time went on. I became used to knowing what it was like to go months without Crying. Before, I rarely went a week. I looked forward to those times where I would Cry... What an emotional release. But even lately, when I see a sad movie, the tears come and I brush them off with laughter. I look at Manny with dewey eyes, he sees his reflection in the small puddle over my eyes, he looks concerned, but then I laugh. "How ridiculous," is what I think. "Crying over something so small."

In fact, it's been so long since I last had a good cry that perhaps the very thing stopping me from doing so now is the thought that I may just never stop. I'll have to lock myself in the bathroom with the faucet going full-blast to drown out the sound of the tears rolling down my cheeks and grab a bucket for fear I may actually flood the floor. 

Have I, The Sanguine, become so good at masking my true feelings? I have always worn my heart on my sleeve - so much so that when I incidentally "subtract" a few dollars from the grocery receipt, Manny hears the tiniest difference in my inflection and asks, "Really?" to which I look at him with a smile and he knows... "Ok" he says; "Where is the receipt?" he asks, smiling at the triumphant feeling he gets for knowing me so well. 

He never gets upset with me. He is so amazing at accepting the way I handle stresses, whether they be the daily triggers like "I have so much crap to do!!" to the bigger things like when one of the babies is going through something and I am constantly searching for relief and yet not much comes. It's been a few weeks since I have found solace; it keeps me away from writing, and for those of you who love hearing about the kids or our daily (mis)-adventures, I know you all understand it's been a crazy few weeks, maybe a month even, maybe more than a month... I've lost track. 

I guess take this with a grain of salt, for writing is so healing for me. I went to Mass today and during the prayers of the faithful, Msgr. Ogle prayed for the dearly departed, and for those who will have funerals in the Church in the coming week. I morbidly thought, "Hmph, that could possibly be me." Then my mind really started going, and I thought of all of the amazing blessings I have and all of the wonderful influences we have and the support and so many more things I could say but words barely do justice, and I felt that tear come up from inside me and get stuck in my throat and I thought, "Could this be it? Can I shed a tear - please?"

But then I laughed. 

I close with something my friend once told me. "My roommate is so patient with me!" she said, explaining to me how her roommate is a constant rock, always solid, never losing control. "But I am.. I am.. I am constantly emotional!! I seriously have emotional diarrhea!" I laughed and could somewhat relate. "But you know what she told me? She told me it was better to have the emotional runs than to be emotionally constipated!"

Could someone send me over some Cry-Lax please?