Trying to Be Big.

I’m often surprised and deeply embarrassed when I cry in front of someone. Tears sneak up on me and all I can do is force a smile while the tears stream down and the skin around my eyes becomes blotchy red. I look down. For me crying is a sign of weakness and vulnerability that I am too often embarrassed to show. I want to appear strong. This is bothering me, but I can handle it.

I love that crying doesn’t lie. That it is essential to living. That I can’t not cry. Crying and I are becoming better friends these days. It’s good. Over the past two years my emotions have become more raw and real. Crying reveals to me what I am experiencing and how I am handling it internally.

I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of hurting me with his words. His words are meant to hurt. Looking for attention and a way to to stir up trouble, like a puppy when it poops in your shoe. When it came up in conversation with a friend, it could have just been another conversation surrounding politics, but instead, out of the blue, the tears. He was surprised.

I guess when a man calls every woman who uses birth control a slut, it affects me. I use birth control. I live with a man to whom I am not married. I have sex. Damn it.

Some inspiration:

Tony Porter: A Call to Men

Eve Ensler: Over It

My Dear Johnny


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