The undertoad is still around, but he’s less threatening now that some unpleasant anniversaries and deadlines have passed. They’re behind me, but they certainly left their mark.
June kicked my ass.
I’m still waiting on the fallout. I have no idea whether I’m absolutely fine or I’m on the verge of a (minor) emotional breakdown. It could go either way.
In the past month, I’ve found myself near tears a couple of times for various reasons — physical, mental, personal, and professional. That’s a strange state for me, as I don’t cry easily or often. What’s even weirder is that once or twice, I wanted to cry.
Last night, it happened again. I was tired, a little lonely, and in the middle of a work project, and without any obvious impetus, tears threatened. I found myself willing them to come. I wanted them. I was frustrated, not with anything in particular, but I was desperate for something, some sort of purging, a catharsis… some external physical indication of my internal state.
As tears welled in my eyes, I tried to grab a hold of what might have caused them. I wanted to roll around in whatever thought or feeling invoked them… but nothing happened. I couldn’t will myself to cry. Perhaps it’s because there wasn’t anything I could blame. Nothing in particular made me ‘sad’ — it was more a general frustration. I guess that’s the difference between invocation and inspiration, right?
At some point, I actually Google searched “what does ‘need a good cry’ mean?” and subsequently, “how to make yourself cry.” Seriously. I did that.
After reading about possible health benefits of crying, and in the midst of futility searching for instructions on how to make myself shed tears, I recognized how fucking ridiculous it was… the seemingly rational ‘logic’ born of irrational emotion, a mechanical search for something human, the pursuit of artificial means to something natural.
While I failed to produce tears, the inability gave me something to focus my frustration on, and that felt good… for a moment.
And then I realized how sad it was for such a thing to give me solace.
“Silly, irrational girl,” I thought… and then I went back to work.