A Girl with a Broken Heart

My cousin sent me one of those “getting to know you” emails where you answer various questions about yourself that even those who know you might not know (or would be really interested to know). One of the questions was “When was the last time you cried?”

Today Krystal and I were playing a game I had gotten a long time ago. It had questions intended to spark conversation among family members – one of the questions was “When was the last time you cried?” (her answer: last night)

My answer – I can’t remember.

I don’t think that’s such a good thing.

I get teary eyed a lot. Sometimes the love of my children, or missing my father or sister will choke me up a bit. But the last full fledged tears I really remember was when we moved back here and left my best friend. (that was nearly 3 years ago) I was so intent on moving as far away from my new ex-husband that I really didn’t think about how that would affect the rest of my life until we climbed into our car, all packed and ready to go, tears streaming down our faces. I know this seems crazy, that I never thought of it till that moment, but I was living a very constrained existence at that point and getting out of that relationship really consumed me. In the big picture, I think moving was necessary for lots of reasons, but it has also negatively affected other parts of my life. For one, I’m very lonely!!

So why don’t I cry more?

I’m going to go all amateur therapist on myself now. Do I keep too much of myself to myself? Afraid to get vulnerable? Afraid to be hurt? My overriding life emotion seems to be anger – is that how I’m expressing emotional pain these days? Or is life just so rosy for me that I don’t have anything to cry about?

I really am going to post something light or funny sometime this week!

Tuesday Turnaround Tomorrow

Back from the weekend. Not feeling real motivated to write much right now.

The morning after my last post, wherein I decided to open my heart a little and cut my mom some slack, she called me to instruct me how to plan our trip to her house for the weekend. She gave me orders to have the car all packed Friday night so we could just get up Saturday morning and leave. And my hackles went up, up, up. I mean, really!

But I swallowed it, and didn’t say anything. We got to her place by 9:30 Saturday morning (not bad, considering it’s a 2 hour drive and she lives on Cape Cod, which is notorious for summer weekend traffic). And we had a nice enough visit. She took the girls to the beach on her own to give me a break, and then took them on another outing on Sunday while I ran an errand. That was nice. But sleeping 3 of us in one bed was painful and I got very little sleep. Also, the different flora on the Cape does not agree with me, and I could not stop itching my eyes or sneezing the whole time.

And I hate the tone and words of this post but I’m going to publish it, mostly because I don’t want to disappear.

I hope to be back soon with something lighter/more insightful/funnier/more universal/fill-in-the-blank!