a good cry

cryEvery once in a while, all the silly little things that upset me, along with all the really big things that upset me, collide, and I have a super big cry. Today is that day. It started when I messed up the coffee. This reminded me of how horrible I am at everything and anything in the kitchen. Then I realized there are a bunch of holiday parties coming up, all with food I don’t eat, yet I am not competent enough to make something I do eat.

So I climbed into bed and started to cry. And the more I cried, the more I though of that made me sad. Yesterday was my extended family Christmas Party. It was the best day of my year growing up as a child. Going to Grandparents house, playing with cousins, opening presents, playing games, eating yummy food. And now, we go to a Church. And my grandpa is no long with us. And all the cousins are adults dealing with their own kids. And my Christmas is gone. Not that it is not fun. Not that new families and new traditions and being parent is not wonderful. But I just needed to mourn my childhood a bit. And I really do miss that Christmas. And it is something that will never be recreated. And that makes me sad.

And I cried because I want to be able to cook and I can’t. And then I cry because I should not say I can’t, I should just try and learn, but that makes me anxious and cry even harder. And I am crying because I don’t feel like I do enough for my family.

And then I start thinking about friendships and lost friendships and friendships put on hold because regular life gets in the way and there just is not enough time. And I cry because I maybe people don’t like me and just pretend.

And then I cried because I have procrastinated on so many things and I have so many things to plan and I feel like I am not doing them justice. And I cried because I feel like I am disappointing so many people so often. And I cry because I finally allow myself to face truth’s that I ignore and get defensive about and they really are true and I don’t want them to be.

HideInBedAnd after an hour of processing and crying and thinking and sniffling, my eyes burn and my nose is stuffed and my head has a dull ache I have to make a decision. Get out of bed, do something, be someone, relax and enjoy my day, or, lay in bed and cry some more. I decided to get up. And process here. Because it always seems to help. Because maybe one of you has had a day like this before and now you know other people do too. Because writing is healing. Because getting out of bed is the hardest step and already I am feeling better.


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