Today I’m laying in bed, sick as a dog, but I’m typing in this here bed. That’s because we got a new laptop. I have never had a nice laptop before, to use as my own. A 17″ Macbook purchased at a considerable, compelling discount from our university store. Holy crap. (It’s going to replace my aging desktop, mostly.)
This cold is affecting my cognitive function. Some people would refrain from writing until they are better, but my cognitive function is always impaired in one way or another, so… who cares?
Yesterday I went to a beautiful wedding and cried a lot. I just hung my head and sobbed for most of the ceremony. I cried because the wedding was beautiful and I love the bride and groom, and love and life themselves are beautiful and moving, but I also cried out of loss and sadness. I cried because it reminded me of when I got married, and I remembered who I was at that time, and how broken I was, and how difficult it was to get married in that state. (I’m so glad I managed though, because my husband is perfect and I love being married.) I cried because the bride was so beautiful, and I do not feel beautiful. I cried because the presence of family love was palpable, all around me, and it just brought into strong relief how much that type of love is missing from my life.
I have grieved a lot over the past year, because many of my illusions regarding my own parents have fallen away, so I cried in a nod to that grieving. I cried because I wish so badly that I could have had a loving and supportive family, the kind that is funny and intelligent and loving and awesome– no doubt imperfect in small ways, but perfect in the ways that count. I cried seeing the beautiful children at the wedding, how happy they were, and how all the adults around them loved them and fussed over them, knowing that my childhood is gone and that I was never cherished like that. I also cried because somehow I was lucky enough to be included in this wedding; because, perceiving myself as a broken person, I was still considered worthy to be a part of this extended group of friends.
When I say “considered worthy”, I am speaking from that small child part of me that does not consider herself worthy of so many things and so is startled awake in the presence of love, and is overjoyed and overwhelmed.
When I think back to who I was even a couple years ago, I am reminded that I would not have been able to really cry. I probably would have smiled and cried a little bit at the appropriate moments and tilted my head in affected emotion, but inside felt bitter and empty. This is starting to sound so goth, but it’s true– that’s just the way I was.
In any case, I will say again that I am happy to have crying skills now. For some people, release takes more effort than you would expect!
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