I’m a bit worried about myself. All my life, I’ve cried like a leaky bucket, at the drop of a hat, almost without provocation. I’ve cried in top board meetings, at client meetings with their bank managers or VAT inspectors (at the bravery of self-employed people) all the way through the Joy Luck Club including the opening credits, in adverts, all the way through Apollo 13 and Field of Dreams, at Terry Waite’s speech on his release (sobbing in the carpark of Waldens the stationers in SW11), in the last moments of a TV programme I haven’t actually watched all the way through, at trailers for films I haven’t yet seen, at kindnesses received or observed. On and on and on, a constant flow of cleansing tears. Excellent for a contact lens wearer, no really.
My old boss worked out it was happy things which made me cry and his party trick was to bring people over to me (at parties) and say nice things to me until I cried. It mostly worked except at my Leaving Do where they all tried to say nice things to me until I cried but I held my ground with ease, totally aligned with my choice to give up The Day Job.
Anyway, something weird’s going on – I seem to have stopped crying. And I didn’t notice until Monday. Here’s what happened.
I was in a meeting with lots of close colleagues and we started talking about something towards the end of the day and I noticed (so did everyone else) my voice cracking. No tears came to my eyes. It took me by surprise which was odd in itself – not only did I not know I felt emotional about this topic but no tears were coming with the emotion. Weirder and weirder.
After the meeting I received a couple of concerned phone calls (aah) to make sure I was alright including an apology from the provacateur (we have history). But thinking back over the last couple of months, I really can’t remember crying a lot except in movies, obviously. My real life hasn’t moved me to tears which is tragic actually because I adore living through my emotions. I don’t think I’ve cried, happy or sad, although I’ve felt lots of anger and frustration which now that I come to think of it is also unusual for me. Perhaps I’ve turned from a crier into a BMW (bitcher, moaner, whiner). Hope not.
As Nessa would say “what’s occurring?” Am I toughening up? Am I less emotionally connected to my life and work? Has the well run dry? I want my tears back. I think. They were always such a good barometer I was used to using to measure things which are important to me.
Re-runs of Steel Magnolias should do it. Or a new barometer – and personality!