I had not previously realized that I am quite emotional. Or, perhaps I had not wanted to acknowledge or admit that I turn teary-eyed quite quickly and easily. I am certain that subconsciously, I have always been convinced that being emotional renders me a weakling, and there is a high probability that I still believe that easily giving in to emotions means weakness. My experiences have taught me to be a hard ass. I am independent and self-sufficient and I have learned to be strong and courageous.
I don’t like it at all that more often than not, I can’t control my tears. I absolutely dislike being all weepy. But that feeling does not necessarily discourage the tears from freely flowing. It is a darned thing. I hear a sad story on the radio and I want to burst out into tears. I refuse to listen to those stories that purposely tug on your heart. It’s abuse of those who cry without warning. Damn it!
I got a call from my son’s old school where he graduated from high school at the end of 2014. His half-sister, my ex-husband’s daughter, still goes there and it is apparent that the school did not update their records despite my request. I do not mind receiving the emails as I simply delete them. I was quite surprised when I got the call from the school counsellor. I didn’t want to be rude so I didn’t cut her short while she was talking about trauma counselling given to the girls, including my son’s half-sister. I thought I could always communicate the message to both my ex and his ex. After all, we are on friendly terms. I didn’t want to ask the reason for the trauma counselling as I had the feeling that I was supposed to know. I let her finish then told her I’m not the mom but that I’d tell my ex and explained the relationships. She said she would call my ex’s ex and I would talk to my son and his father. My son would be looking after the younger siblings this weekend. Anyway, my husband told me that one of the students fell off a cliff during a camp adventure activity and was badly injured. I immediately opened my deleted items folder and searched for the emails from the school. There were two emails. It happened on Thursday. The girl fell from a significant height and was in critical but stable condition. There was a request for prayers. Tear drops! I tried to push them back. I shallowed hard. I ended up sniffing so much that my work colleague had to ask if I had colds. And she was at reception, least ten steps from my office.
I am still emotional about it. I am fighting back the tears as I write. I’m not teary-eyed because I have my own children who could have been or could be in the same situation. I’m not emotional because I am thankful that nothing terrible happened/happens to my children. I realized that I was and still am truly feeling awful for the child and her parents. I would be so devastated. I can only imagine what they must be going through. As I prayed for the girl, her family and even the school, I realized that I still often forget to pray in gratitude for all the blessings we receive as a family. I am fortunate, truly, and I am thankful. I really need to be more conscious about life, my life, and be grateful every single day, every single moment.
So right now, I am in one of my introspective moods and because I sometimes run away from introspection, I turned to Netflix to watch my light romantic comedy movies. To avoid introspection, I wasted several hours watching Intolerable Cruelty, Wedding Date and Nottinghill, which happens to be one of my all-time favorite movies. Movies are my escape, allowing me to live in a dream world. However, I also get insights. Towards the end of Nottinghill, I found myself smiling foolishly, with watery eyes, as I watched for the umpteenth time the Press Conference scene at the Savoy. If this isn’t emotional, then I don’t know what is. I call it tears of joy, the other kind of tears. I am sure that this wasn’t the first time I experienced this but since I didn’t acknowledge it before I can’t say with certainty how long I have been tearing up because of happiness.
But, I’m growing up this year and my growing up includes being aware of myself and truly and honestly accepting me, authentic and with flaws. I’m working on it. I’ll acknowledge the waterworks, silently, and not be embarrassed about it. However, I shall remain tough and dry-eyed at work. That’s expected of a grown up, right? Emotional internally and callous externally. Compartmentalize…