I'm going to talk about the issues.
My Issues, to be more specific.
I have a problem, and I'm not sure what to call it. Some might call it cold-hearted-inappropriateness syndrome, but I don't think that's the official (finger quotes) name of my ailment.
For some strange, bizarre, and inexplicable reason, I tend to laugh at really inappropriate times. This is serious! I'm not talking snickering in church, I'm talking strangely inappropriate times. For example: when I receive terrible, awful news, sometimes...I grin. And it's NOT because I think it's funny. It's more like a muscle spasm. Or maybe I'm just so overwhelmed that I just slip into a daze. Or maybe it's a defense mechanism.
Not only do I laugh at inappropriate times, I can almost never cry when I want to. I can work out in my mind exactly why I should cry and I get to the point where I feel like I want to cry, I might even really want to cry...but no tears will come.
I was that girl, in 8th grade when Miranda's mother passed away and all the girls were sitting in Bible class crying their eyes out, who sat there stone-faced. I remember thinking that there was really something wrong with my soul. I asked myself: How can you be sitting here dry-eyed when this is one of the saddest moments you've seen in all your 13 years???
When you're thirteen and everyone else is doing it, you start to feel like a real cold-hearted loser.
I think I may have secretly poked myself in the eye or rubbed my eyes really hard like I was trying not to cry. But I wasn't. I didn't have to try. My tear ducts are defective.
What's worse is that afternoon I probably went home and cried my eyes out over a Boy Meets World episode. Lame.
Sometimes I cry when I have a lot of laundry to do or when Kingsley pees on the carpet for the 3rd time in one day (Kingsley has issues too).
Is there a part of me that never matured? Does it mean that I'm incapable of genuine, deep sorrow? No. I don't think that's true. But what?!
Recently I shared with my mother-in-law that I have this rare and disturbing problem. She shrugged her shoulders and said, "Well, if you don't feel it, don't do it. As long as you're being genuine."
She doesn't know what I suffer! I do feel it, it just won't come out my eyes. Besides, what does she know? She's a cryer.
Over the years I've learned to live with my problem. And sometimes I do cry at the right time. I cried when my family left for Slovakia, and I cried when I went to visit my parents in Slovakia, I cried when I left Slovakia, and I cried when I came home. And those were good cries.
And sometimes I cry when Daniel hurts my feelings.
Isn't that wonderful???
Wasn't that a bizarre post? How depressing.