apropos of nothing
December 21, 2005
Painfully Poignant
"Sasha has reached the painfully poignant stage of leaving", she said, full of sage and wisdom.
"I remember that stage", she said, with a tone of sympathy that may not have existed, but I chose to hear regardless.
And that seemed like a good characterization to me. I had been titling this stage 'losing my shit' or 'being a complete fucking mess'.
Losing my shit is probably more accurate, but Painfully Poignant is definitely prettier.
So, here at painfully poignant central I have been spending a lot of time crying.
Crying is not usually my gig. It's messy, both tangibly, in that ruins your makeup, makes your eyes red and puffy, and causes your nose to run sort of way. And emotionally. Crying is a lot of emotion right up there at the surface, sliding out demanding to be noticed.
I don't so much like messy. I am a fan of tidy.
Neat. Sorted. Ordered. Analyzed. Predictable. Controlled.
These are the things I like.
I am a fan of the stiff upper lip, no sense crying over spilt milk, suck it up and get on with it, keep on keeping on approach to life. And cheesecake. I am a fan of cheesecake. Where there is cheesecake there is no need for tears.
And should the power of cheesecake fail, there is the shower. The shower is my crying location of choice. The tangible messy is easily dealt with in the shower. And 9 times out of 10 you are in the shower alone, so the emotionally messy right up at the surface demanding to be noticed thing is almost never an issue. Plus, I like the shower a lot.
(My nearest and dearest is an astrologer. The first time she did my chart she shook her head and said, "You have no water in your chart. at all. none. not a drop. No wonder you are not so good with the emotion stuff." So, you know, no water in my stars, I need to supplement with the shower.)
But as much as I would like to, I cannot spend the next 10 days in the shower. So I have been out there in the big wide world. Crying. At the strangest things.
I got a nosebleed this morning just as I was stepping out of the shower. Which seemed quite obviously to be the end of the world. So I stood, naked and dripping blood on the bathroom floor, crying.
I cried in the crazy Asian grocery store when I realized (repetitive and vapid realizations are another hallmark of painfully poignant, it seems.) that I will not be able to just pop around the corner to pick up vegetarian dim sum for dinner anymore.
I cried when my doctor called to tell me that my test results came in, and I do indeed have strep throat.
And then I cried again when she called back to remind me that antibiotics counteract birth control pills and I should use a back up method. Because. My doctor! She called me. Because she was concerned I might get pregnant accidentally. And isn't that the sweetest thing you've ever heard, and I will have to find a new doctor, and, and, and...tears.
I had a full heaving sob meltdown in Starbucks this morning because I am sick and have a fever of 103 (hot blooded!) and the six block walk to work was enough to wipe me out and my favourite Starbucks woman waived at me from behind the counter, and they were playing 'Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas". And, and, and...tears.
I locked myself in a bathroom stall this afternoon and cried for 15 minutes for no apparent reason.
My boss, who I don't even like very much, gave me a very nice card wishing me all the best of this and that. So I cried.
And really. Crying is not my gig. I don't like it. It's messy and uncomfortable, and embarrassing, and it ruins your make up.
But I am really sick, and really sentimental, and really really stressed. And I have 230 hours worth of stuff to do, and 165 hours to do it in.
And I really don't seem to be myself at all.
And I have a fever. (Can I blame the fever?)
This afternoon a colleague, who I'm sure meant well, took me for coffee and made vague but grand sounding noises about friendship and adventure and keeping in touch. He asked me if I would promise him something.
"Promise me", he said, "that you won't forget to smile."
Which just irritated me, and didn't make me cry at all.
So I guess I am still a little bit myself beneath this veil of salty, feverish mess.
Posted by sasha
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