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Thu 30 Nov, 2006 06:55 pm
What is the last thing you cried about?
I'm not a big thing person. Most of my things have some greater signifigance besides their objectness.
Today something broke and I cried a river.
Mo was mad at me over something I had no control over. Someone "promised" him something then did not carry through on their "promise".
I tried to explain that it was not my promise and that there wasn't anything I could really do about it but he didn't get it and he was mad at me.
He hit a shelf and sent things flying. One of the things that flew was my biscuit bowl.
The biscuit bowl holds dog biscuits. My mother commissioned an artist I admired to make the bowl for me. The bowl depicted me, Mr. B and our first dog, it came to me filled with dog biscuits.
It has never been empty.
In almost 20 years it has never been biscuitless.
Until today.
Today it is in 500 pieces.
The biscuits are in a baggy.
The pieces are on my counter hoping for restoration.
I don't often cry over things but today I cried a river over the biscuit bowl.
Can you make me feel better by telling me some thing that you have cried a river over?
Hope you're feeling better, boomer. I'd be upset, too. It's perfectly understandable that you'd be upset.
The last time I cried was a few days ago. Why? Betrayal, or perhaps I could better describe it as being let down badly, by someone I considered a friend. (I don't really want to go into the details right now, but it was about something that was of great importance to me.) I now see the person in an entirely different light & I doubt that I want to see much of her at all, after that. End of friendship.
(OK, did that do the trick, boomer? :wink: )
The last time I cried a river was just last week, watching the movie Tosca's Kiss with Diane; tears streamed down my face several times. But... that's not what you're asking. (
Tosca's Kiss)
On things - I cried when I unpacked some of my stuff from storage, and found the foot to my parents' - and now my - mahogony four poster. Haven't gotten to the rest of the bed yet, so I can't yet put in a claim to the moving company. I cried in rage and frustration and loss. Even if the moving company would accept the claim all this time after my move, that's not the point. I remember my parents letting me sleep there the time I had an earache back in New York; that would have been 1950. I also remember the very giant penicillin shot.... oh, and much much else.
This has been a very medical week and Mr. Noddy's nose is a bit out of joint.
Late this afternoon, I settled down to read Michael Weisskopf's new book, Blood Brothers: Among the Soliders of Ward 57 and grew teary several times.
I can understand the tears for the biscuit bowl. A thought from Marian Zimmer Bradley has stuck with me: "Children have to break things and lose things to make room for wisdom to come in."
In my Macho and Manly Guidebook for Macho and Manly Men....Section 4, article 7 states, and I quote...."No Crying" as you can see, it's in bold, so my hands are tied.
But, the guidebook does cover your dilemma...it says to go break something of his.
A few months back I couldn't stop crying when I found out that my friends died in a terrible automobile accident. They left 3 small boys behind.
I cried for months when my fiancee passed away unexpectedly two years ago. I cried when my dad died a year and a half ago. I cried when my good friend died 5 years ago. There have been other times as well. But I've never cried over an inanimate object.
But boomer, you weren't crying about the thing itself. You cried about the loss of memories and sentiment that it represented.
Well, I have!
I'm with JPB. Objects can hold powerful memories. The bowl was more than just a bowl.
I hope Mo saw you cry. I hope he knows how much his lashing-out hurt you. I hope he is contrite and feels guilty for breaking it. He needs to know that not controlling his anger has consequences. And having to live with a sad Mommy is one of them.
Having read the same book as 2packs, I naturally find all this crying to be stuff and nonsense, strictly reserved for girlies.
However, when something happens that causes the brain to think about starting up with this illogical girlish behaviour of the wet face and snotty nose variety, I tend to overcome the urge by going into the back garden and doing a bit of sky watching for a while.
The big advantage of this, is that if anyone suddenly comes on the scene and asks what I am doing, I can answer by saying that I'm mentally planning how to build that brick barbecue, or something else that is equally macho.
Listening to "Old Shep" never fails to make me go and study strata.
Re: I cried a river over you.
boomerang wrote:I'm not a big thing person. Most of my things have some greater signifigance besides their objectness.
Shes got that aspect covered guys.
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I can only think of one time in my life that I've actually cried over a
thing and that was about 16 years ago, I was 19 or 20. My earlier post was more of a bookmark than anything...trying to decide if I want to bore everyone with my story or not.
Well, screw it, I'm not a manly man.
Though I do have to reach back a bit about having cried over a thing...
1998 at the end of an exhausting 6-week drive around western Europe I couldn't find my watch. It hadn't been my watch for long, and I'm not really a watch person, but the wife (well, then the gf of a year or so) had bought me that watch in Munich on my birthday at the beginning of the trek, and it was my first birthday with her without another girlie in the picture, and we were homeless and utterly and strangely and newly (for the both of us) committed to each other.
It'd been a Sunday, and she'd had trouble finding a place that was open and that sold the right watch.
Anyway, we were gathering up all our crap from the rental car and I couldn't find the damned watch, rifling through our belongings in the parking lot of some godawful automated motel-thing about an hour from -- Zurich, I think. I've always been terrible at keeping track of little objects, and I felt horrible that I couldn't find the watch, and had myself a manly cry in the car there.
Yeah, so, whatever. I found the watch in one of the pockets of our tent when we were living in it in California about a month later. It's in a drawer somewhere now, all beat up and with the winder broken so you can't change the time any more and the battery dead. And I've got a new watch with a dead battery and a broken band.
She doesn't buy me nice stuff any more.
I was 10. My dad threw out my rock collection (beloved because they'd been collected with Grandma and I had both a geode and a real, live fossil) prior to a move.
But I still have the collection, hidden in my heart, and I take it out from time to time to cherish it.
God, this explains a lot....
I'll bet it does, DrewDad!
Grandma was dad's mother?
patiodog wrote:Well, screw it, I'm not a manly man.
Though I do have to reach back a bit about having cried over a thing...
1998 at the end of an exhausting 6-week drive around western Europe I couldn't find my watch. It hadn't been my watch for long, and I'm not really a watch person, but the wife (well, then the gf of a year or so) had bought me that watch in Munich on my birthday at the beginning of the trek, and it was my first birthday with her without another girlie in the picture, and we were homeless and utterly and strangely and newly (for the both of us) committed to each other.
It'd been a Sunday, and she'd had trouble finding a place that was open and that sold the right watch.
Anyway, we were gathering up all our crap from the rental car and I couldn't find the damned watch, rifling through our belongings in the parking lot of some godawful automated motel-thing about an hour from -- Zurich, I think. I've always been terrible at keeping track of little objects, and I felt horrible that I couldn't find the watch, and had myself a manly cry in the car there.
Yeah, so, whatever. I found the watch in one of the pockets of our tent when we were living in it in California about a month later. It's in a drawer somewhere now, all beat up and with the winder broken so you can't change the time any more and the battery dead. And I've got a new watch with a dead battery and a broken band.
She doesn't buy me nice stuff any more.
hello everybody. i've been surfing the forums and came across this. patiodog, it is uncanny how much that dog looks like mine. they're twins!!!!
Is yours batsh!t crazy too?
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