I’m coming off a crappy couple of weeks — my beloved dog of almost 13 years developed a cancerous tumor on the back of her tongue that lead to the need to put her to sleep … that was the culmination I guess. The rest isn’t really blog material — but it affected me, in a way that I find hard to explain. Sometimes I guess it’s necessary to lose things, to feel hapless and hopeless, before you can realize what you had. Sounds cliché, but true. But, the rest of the story is this…
I’ve written here about love and friendship and anger and rage and death and cancer and autism. I’ve written about many things that have affected me. Things that have caused me pain and sadness and happiness and laughter and confusion. Maybe the things I’ve written about are emotions I have about other people…not necessarily about myself. If you give others emotional responsibility for you then you don’t have to worry about it — someone else will always be calling the shots. You are free from the burden of the emotions because you can always pretend they’re not yours — and really, they’re not. Not if you always look to others for comfort or stability or recognition.
With the summer approaching, I have a new sense of things to come. A new sense of me. A new sense of what’s important and what’s going to help me be the me I want to be. Sometimes losing gives you a better focus — sometimes it just gives you focus.
I cried this week. Seems an odd thing to say I guess — but, I cried. I thought about that old adage, “When the going gets tough, the tough get going.” But, I realized that’s not right at all. Maybe when the going gets tough, the tough start to cry. Because to cry means you care and you feel and you think… and those are the things that mean everything.
I’m not a crier. Never have been. I cry at funerals — sometimes. I cry when I get physically hurt — sometimes. I cry at movies — sometimes. But this time, it came for other reasons. And I couldn’t stop it, actually I didn’t want to stop it. It felt good once I got going. Crying felt good. This really puzzled me. Why had I avoided crying all these years if the end result was a sort of cleansing?
So, back to a crappy couple of weeks. It’s better already. It’s moving forward and moving on. It’s beginning to make sense. I’m beginning the process of being the me I want to be. I’m beginning to understand how to get back up when I lose.
In case you’re wondering what I did after my cleansing cry, have a look at this video. Hey, I never said I didn’t like to laugh and cry at the same time.