I'm not sure why I'm so sensitive to certain things. In particular, lately, my eyes have turned into water faucets. As in, lately, I cry a lot. I suppose that is not surprising. And to be expected. What's strange about it is what turns the water faucet on. I often find myself crying at kindness. Or real compassion. Or empathy.
Yesterday, was overwhelming. One of those days when I felt so raw and precarious and exhausted and worn down to the nub, like a pile of pick-up sticks. One of those days where I had to pull a Kimmy Schmidt and break time into ten second increments--arguing with myself that I could, in fact, manage ten seconds, then ten more, and ten more, over and over. The I'm-going-to-have-a-breakdown-right-here edge stood beside me all day.
I went to the gym to cope. The majority of my energy was diverted from Back & Bi to the landscape of my head in self talk. Just don't burst into tears, here. They won't understand.
The whole time the tears threatened and I tried to imagine that I was just sweating a lot out of my eyes.
It seemed like the bros were staring more than usual. Do they see my tears?
And then one of the regulars, whose name I don't even know, went out of his way to ask me if I needed to work in and use the chin-up bar. He was just being kind. But, it felt like it violently struck some sort of resonance nearly dropping my bridge into the water. I choked out a yes, then practically ran across the gym to escape observation and to grab my usual 25 lb dumbbell step-stool, as anything less is too tipsy. Its just sweat! I wanted to scream. A lot of sweat is just dripping down my face.
When I left the gym, a bro stood an extra five to hold the door for me. Uh. Kindness. Another choked word. Thanks. My eyes added more water to the already puddled parking lot. At least, there was nobody around to see. I cried all the way home. Reminding myself that I'd never see the people in the car next to me at the stop light and it really doesn't matter if they see me balling.
At the grocery store, a man motioned for me to go ahead of him in line, as I just had a piece of poster board for one of my little people. Again. Hot tears fought so hard to escape my eyes, they burned.
Kind words in an email involving everyday details from an office manager in Canada. Again, tears.
A season two Christmas episode of Glee. In the story line, Coach secretly buys, Artie, a pair of legs. The unseen act of compassion and kindness. I crumpled into an uncontrollable hot mess on the sofa and my little she dog licked my salty tears.
Somehow, I know this all has something to do with recovering from the narcissist, but I can't for the life of me, sort it out, yet.
