I am not a particular fan of crying. I find it a weak and pitiful thing to do. Ever since I was a little girl, I would cry about things that really mattered (which helped if you knew about the world, since there was always a war or a starving child that would put my pathetic little issues in perspective). So, I teach my children, you cry about stuff that REALLY matters (which, nearly 40 years on, basically still covers the aforementioned bases).
So, you wonder, what happens to all those uncried tears? Well, this week I found out! It all dams up and then it starts dripping from your eyes the moment a very kind man from a lovely health service puts a stress survey in front of you to fill out. Like a switch you flick, it just happens. And he remained lovely, offering me a tissue and not saying much. While I did what I have done a thousand times before: swallow my tears, harden my heart (to quote Pat Benatar).
I have not really stopped crying since. Which is kind of a problem, since my eyes turn a peculiar bright green if I cry for more than 5 minutes. So, yes, I do get weird looks from colleagues. I must admit I am not really feeling better either, but at least the dam inside is getting emptier and I know it, because that anchor that weighs a tonne can now be located: it is sitting on my heart.
1 comment:
welkom by die "cry-babies club" want dit is hoe ek my die laaste tyd voel...kyk my skeef aan en ek huil. Doen lief teen my - en ek huil.. ek is vas oortuig daarvan dit sit ook hormonaal hoor...maar ek eet cholates en drink rooiwyn om alles in goeie balans te bring...maar ek huil nog steeds. Dus my liewe vriendin...huil maar - jy is nie alleen nie...Dink aan jou. Dikke knuffel uit Belgie. ekke xxx
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