About a month ago, someone half jokingly said to me, “You know, you really are an asshole.” Because I was already (literally) walking away from this person, my response to the comment was to simply continue walking away. I can only assume the comment fell out of their mouth because they were irritated that my actions didn't match what they wanted and they were trying to get a rise out of me. I chose not to give the person what they wanted. Hence, the asshole comment, loop complete. You get it.
The thing is though, you never really know what another person is thinking unless they tell you… or you ask. In this particular instance, I didn’t give a fuck so I didn’t ask and they didn’t elaborate. Also, I’m pretty sure it’s stated in my included instruction manual that I am, in fact, an asshole. Sooooo you know, read the fine print before you sign up.
As I walked away, I was so angry. I wanted to turn around and scream, “How dare you joke that I’m an asshole when you have been such a manipulative person! How dare you dump this bag of shit into my lap in order to absolve yourself from your mistakes. How dare you pretend that we’re still friends after all the weird bullshit you’ve said and done!” This person heard none of that though. This person had know clue what was flooding my brain. This person witnessed a stone faced, calm, quiet person continue to walk away.
Once I was properly protected in the privacy of my own home, I fought the urge to cry. Not a sadness cry; an angry cry. A cry that wells up from deep within me when I feel utterly helpless. I fucking hate it. I HATE that cry. I HATE CRYING. Period. Crying is an uncontrollable form of vulnerability. I hate that there’s even a name for the physical sensation in the throat. It even sounds gross; globus sensation. Fuck globus sensation, fuck the person who made me want to cry, fuck crying… fuck. I began crying.
Later, as I recapped the ridiculous, stupid story to a dear person in my life, they commented, “I cannot picture you crying. As a matter of fact, you referenced crying in your blog once and it struck me as out of character.” It made me laugh and I said, “Yep. Sometimes I cry.” It made me realize that, for as goofy as I am about many things in my life, I still tend to internalize all the important things until they’ve been “processed”.
There was a time when I never used to share anything immediately, if at all. One time I told someone I had broken up with my boyfriend and when they shockingly said, “Oh my gosh!” My nonplused response was, “Nah. It happened over a month ago.”
In the recent years, I’ve tried to change that about myself. My attempt to be more open and share more of my streaming consciousness has had pros and cons. There was an instance where my unprocessed thoughts and actions where shared and disregarded by the person I was confiding in. It made me so self conscious I decided not to confide in that person anymore. In a difference instance, a person got upset at me for not sharing more.
I’m CLEARLY not good at sharing but I’m still trying… it just happens to be in an abnormal and awkward way. Information comes out at random or in saga form. I will always be a work in progress and I will never get it right but now it’s out there… sometimes I cry when I’m angry and sometimes when I’m sad. Bonus info: If I’m angry and not crying… yikes. FERAL.