I took this photo while I was flying into Chicago to visit friends. I love seeing skyscrapers as I fly into a large city. They remind me of how many people have worked hard to reach for the sky and managed to create something interesting.
My friends and family have some dirt on me. I am a weeping, sobbing cryer. I cry when I am happy. I cry when I am angry, nervous, excited, sad, or even sometimes when I am hungry or thirsty and have no idea why I am feeling discombobulated. I cry if I have overindulged in beverages of the alcoholic variety. I also cry when I am inspired.
Movies, music, books, theater, sporting events, national anthems, TV shows, weddings, graduations… the list can go on forever. I cried tonight watching old episodes of MasterChef Junior. I cried when Steve left for college on Blue’s Clues. I cried really hard at that one, my family was trapped staring at me and wondering what on earth I was so upset about. I still get choked up when I think about it. I just about lose my mind when I am watching Broadway shows because I am just so excited for all those actors who have MADE IT! I cry when I listen to live music because I feel like the artist is showing me some secret part of themselves and I am humbled by their ability to open up to me.
When I was a brand new nurse I cried at least part of time at least once a week. I have stopped crying at work, but I rely on the catharsis of crying other times as a way to relieve the stress.
I am not necessarily ashamed of my crying ways, but I never seem to have a tissue when I need one. I am also not one of those cute cryers that inspires men to hand me their pocket square to dab my eyes. Wait, maybe I just don’t know enough men who use pocket squares. Can we bring that back? I think it’s kinda sexy.
As a girl who is frequently accused of looking pissed off or of having RBF, I used to be offended by people asking me what is wrong all the time. Then, I saw a photo of myself in paradise with a truly annoyed appearance on my face. I looked disgusted. I shared it on Facebook and entirely too many people shared how well they knew the expression. I guess I should not have been so surprised.
I think part of the confusion comes from my constant wondering what people are doing and why they are doing it. I want to know what they are thinking. I want to hear a story. I may be trying to come up with a story on my own. People baffle me. I just want to know more. I still feel like Johnny 5 and I just want more input.
So, what makes you cry? Can it be a hobby? I think it may be one of mine. Do you constantly get accused of being angry when you are simply working something out in your head? What things about you cause people to misunderstand you?
The Accidental Boxer 