Friday, June 09, 2006
Basket case
My parents tell me that I didn't cry much as a kid. They say that I wouldn't even shed a tear when I'd get punished for being naughty. I probably should have done my share of crying back then when being a helpless child was excuse enough to bawl.
Now that I'm all grown up, tearing up has been my default reaction to almost every situation.
When I'm sad, I cry.
When I'm glad, I cry.
When I'm mad, I cry.
When I'm anxious, I cry.
When I'm annoyed, I cry.
When I'm flattered, I cry.
And the list goes on and on...
I'm not at all proud of it! And I'd hate to earn the reputation of being overly-sensitive, touchy, or thin-skinned. Just today, a not-so-nice issue about a colleague of mine was brought to light because I couldn't help crying about my frustration with her. I guess it was all for the best that her arrears surfaced at this point because the situation had already blown up without us all noticing it. Still, I hated the fact that the lump in my throat and the teary eyes prompted people to inquire about what was wrong, causing me to break down in front of everyone. I was a basket case, believe me. So, in between quiet sobs, I poured out. It ultimately caused others, who shared my concern regarding that colleague, to come out and tell all as well.
To make the long story short, we were able to fix the situation in due time because the truth finally came out. However, I find myself in that awkward situation of being the catalyst of it all. I know it would have come out eventually, even without my oh-so-humiliating dramatic performance, but I just don't want to be remembered as "Marielle, the crybaby."
Waaaaaaaaaaaah........
posted by mari_elle at
21:28
