Wednesday, March 20, 2013

Fears of Tears

      I am not a crier. Crying makes me uncomfortable and I don't think it accomplishes anything really. I know people who cry specifically to get sympathy (other than four year olds) and that is something I am even more uncomfortable with. I don't need anyone's sympathy. If I'm so upset over something that I'm actually crying, the last thing I want is your sympathy.
      I don't think there is anything wrong with crying - for other people. Yes, I feel awkward around it but if someone is really upset about something, the tears kind of escape. For me, crying shows weakness; but I don't believe other people are weak if they are crying. I mean, full-blown blubbering over insignificant things will irritate the hell out of me - almost as much as someone bitching about a problem over and over but never really taking the steps to do anything about said problem.
       But just because I don't fall down into a fit of sobs does not mean I am not hurting. Just because I don't turn sullen and melancholy doesn't mean I'm not sad. Just because I choose not to dwell on things that make me unhappy when I'm awake and around others doesn't mean I don't think about it. I smile instead of frown; laugh instead of cry.
       Sometimes, if I'm really hurt, I'll get mad. And not simple I'll just avoid you kind of mad. I mean scowl and shoot-you-daggers when you're around. I mean pointedly ignoring you and doing my best to make sure you don't forget me. Maybe that isn't the most mature, but I'm hurting. YOU hurt me.
       I'm really good at hiding my emotions from everyone, including myself. There will be times that I know I'm mad but I don't know at whom or why. If and when I figure it out, and its someone close to me, I address whatever situation has made me upset. Know why? Because I feel that those people close to me deserve to be made aware of the things they did. Because I value our relationship and because I respect you enough to not tell you blatant lies and deny that our relationship was any less important than it really was.
       So no; you probably won't catch me with the light glinting off of tears welling in my eyes. Odds are good you won't even hear me say that I've been hurt. But know that I have been hurt; I am still hurting. And you are the one who hurt me.