Saturday, 21 November 2015

Scheduling a little weep.

I like a busy calendar. I like looking at the paper page hanging on the wall - yeh old fashioned I know, and seeing it fill up with stuff that needs to be done and things that are fun to do and people's birthdays and all manner of reminders. It makes me feel that life is going on and that I am not just sliding on day closer to dead.

I do like a busy calendar.

But do you ever just have a look at your calendar and work out that it might be possible to have a little weep on Sunday fortnight between let's say 2 and 4pm, or is this just me?

When I was newly single and raising my lovely, I admit that things did sometimes become overwhelming. I mean, whinging to a mate about the crumbs in the butter or the dickhead at work should not be undervalued. And so I would somehow compartmentalize all this irritation and look for a weepy solution at sometime when it would not be necessary to explain to my girl or in deed anyone else why I was washing my face. Yep the interim days could be fraught with tension, but no tears.

I don't know why I am reluctant to cry in public. Perhaps my refusal to give in to tears so my mother would stop whipping me with the buckle end of a belt left me with this remarkable skill. She had this sort of rule that she would stop the beating when the tears started and I would not let her win - stupid bloody minded child. But she would eventually have to stop because she wasn't very fit and she would dissolve into a pool of sweat. Yeh I remember the triumph of staring her down, dry eyed. So tears are a bit of a sign of weakness for me, not for anyone else, just for me.

It's such a loss of control isn't it - all that red swollen eyes and snot. So not attractive, and it makes everyone else uncomfortable.

I reckon if evolution was this girl's friend, crying would be phased out and it would be replaced by some sort of dramatic weight loss, and if it was really friendly, maybe the site of the loss could be preempted - tummy tucking for relationship breakdowns, and arm bat wing things for frustration about bill payment and skinny ankles for dental anxiety. Just a little bit of useful magic.

It seems to me that the tears carry away a lot of the frustration and fear and just bloody sadness, so they are better out than in, but it's difficult to change the habits of a lifetime, so schedules are still planned.

Are you lucky enough to be able to burst out with the waterworks at any time or do you hide 'em away like a dirty little secret?

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