Pass the box of tissues, please!
It amazes me. It astounds me. It dumbfounds me.
Have I become the sobbing, weeping, overly-sensitive, emotional embodiment of what is stereotypically female? Way to disturb myself. I have known myself for awhile now– nineteen years to be exact– and I have always shamelessly cried when I read a sad novel or watched a sad movie. Yet, I was shameful of this act; thus, I would never cry in front of others and I felt embarassed with my sister’s pressence while I watched “1 L of Tears” because I knew that at any given moment I was going to bawl my eyes out. I didn’t even want my own family to see me cry, this is how prideful I once was.
Last year during a Holiday get-together, we watched Loved, Actually at Fiona’s. I’ve watched it once or twice before, and never– and I repeat, never– cried before. Yet I cried at least 3 times watching that movie in the company of friends– male and female. It was embarassing. And all along, I thought the real deal was me getting teary-eyed over fictional stuff in the privacy of my own room. I mean, I had to practically force myself during my grade 7 graduation. Now I”m still getting teary-eyed..but in the public sphere?! Umpossible!
Now it is the question of what I am capable of in terms of my crying comfort. Last month I cried in an embrace with my friend during her birthday party. Lisa and I have given her a gift that touched her so deeply she was overflowed with joy which consequently, led to tears. I, seeing the joy I was able to provide for my dear friend, and also seeing the deeper meaning of the gift cried because I felt the empathetic pain that came with. Very confusing, I know. You’d have to be an insider to understand.
And most recently, I have become a crying machine. When I hear sad songs, I bawl; when I hear happy songs, I weep; when I sing to myself, I touch myself with the lyrics of someone who has experienced the same thing, that I as you’ve guessed it, cried. And mostly when I do this, no one sees or hears.
On Saturday my aunty dearest had her first child, a darling baby girl. I visited her on Sunday. She was telling us the delivery process and added some details of how my siblings were conceived. It was spontaneous. It was unexpected. It was, as you can probably predict by now, another waterwork. This time, I was hysterical. Crying uncontrollably. A cry so ugly I shudder just thinking about it. It was loud too, no doubt. The nurse came in to see if my aunt was crying, when she saw me she looked puzzled and decided she couldnt be bothered by me. My aunt, my sister and my cousins found this amusing; if i were in their shoes, I’d look upon myself as amusing too. I don’t know why I was so overwhelmed– but I was and I can’t explain it.
Yesterday, I cried because someone’s kind words were so heartfelt I was extremely touched. What is wrong with me?
It can’t really have anything to do with my menstral cycle since it’s been this way for awhile now. And my hormones can’t be going bizerk because I’m in my late adolsence. What it is is strange, and it frightens me. I’m sure it frightens those around me as well because one does not know what to do with a crying hyena.
So please, don’t cry, baby
