This Cheerleader’s Lost Her Pom Poms…or some other catchy title

Jarl and Stephanie Counselling

Saturday night, I finished rereading a novel I had read before (I seem to be doing that a lot.  I need to go browsing on Amazon).  There was a period of the story when I felt as if I would cry. I never actually did, but it started me thinking about crying.  I almost wrote about it; I stood in the shower forming sentences, but they all seemed wordy, like they took forever to get to the point, and I wasn’t exactly sure what the point was.

Sunday, after traveling for several days, I was wiped out, and by the time I did all the catching up from travel, took a nice long walk, performed all those domestic tasks that go along with living in a house and eating and such….well, there wasn’t much time to think about the topic of crying.


Today, as the day wears on, I find myself thinking of it again.  Sometimes I find pictures to inspire my writing, so I went searching for turning wheels – animated gifs.  I found some nice ones, but I was just too tired for analogies. Does that happen to other writers? You just get too tired of trying to create a parable or poem?


I used to cry easily.  A sappy commercial, a beautiful song, a Chopin piece played with passion, the ending of a good book, the ending of Sense and Sensibility or Mr. Holland’s Opus.  That reminds me – I watched Mr. Holland’s Opus this weekend as well.  I felt my heart move, but I didn’t cry.


Overall, I don’t cry as much as I used to.  Well, I’ve been through phases lately, but somewhere around the age of…35ish? I just stopped crying as much. There are probably lots of reasons.  A big part of it is…my expected personality I think.  I’m funny.  Yep, I am, all of my weirder friends agree, and my children roll their eyes around me frequently.  Such powerful indicators cannot be ignored.  I’m the cheerleader.  I always have been.  I have noticed that when I fulfill that role people draw close, and when I….go out side of that role, there is distance.  I think it makes people very uncomfortable when a typically happy person is sad.


Because of that. most of my crying over the last decade has been done alone.  I’m not sure if you know this, but crying alone sucks.  The shower is a good place, because the sound can be drowned out (haha pun), and the inevitable snot can be washed away.  That isn’t ladylike, but let’s just be real here, crying is a snotty business.  It just is.  Then there’s the practical aspect.  I end up with a stuffy nose and a migraine like headache depending on how long I cry.


But yeah, it’s mostly the alone thing and the sense that rejection comes with too much crying that really put me off crying.


Does that mean I am hard?  Dried up? Spent? Some other unflattering word?  I don’t want to be.  I want to be soft and sensitive and wonderful and the kind of woman someone just wants to envelope when she cries.  I’m not sure what the trick is to that.  That leads to a whole other topic that has been rolling around in my head – the pendulum of wanting.  I won’t muddy the waters right now with that, however.


I think the crying boils down, somewhere deep inside, to stubbornness.  I’ve cried enough alone.  I’ve hidden in the shower enough.  I’ve put my head under the covers enough.  I’ve driven around enough. I’ve had the dog in my lap, licking my hand, staring that wide-eyed stare enough.  I want something else.  I want the picture above this rambling.  I want to know….someone is there.  I want to be able to relax in that knowledge.


I’m lonely.  There it is. And posting such….honesty that isn’t “fun” is terrifying.  But today, I can’t be the cheerleader. I need to be cheered.


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