October 12, 2009

I am a giant schmuck.

I don't know how this happened, but at some point, I became an emotional disaster.

I don't freak out when something upsets me, or lose all ability to function when something goes wrong. I'm actually quite good in a crisis.

It's when things are good that I fall apart.

Again, I'm not really sure when or how this happened. I wasn't always this way. In fact, I have a very clear memory of being 10 or so years old, talking about sad things with my friend, P. (Sad things when you're 10 being, of course, something like your cat dying, or your fifth grade teacher yelling at you for talking.) We would say something sad, make a frowny face, look at each other and then burst out laughing.

(Now that I think about it...that's kind of messed up. Nowadays a psychologist would probably tell our parents we were sociopaths destined for some kind of destructive effect on society.)

Someone giving me praise for something I'd done? Like Christmas morning for an attention hound like myself. It's pretty much what I lived for my entire childhood.

Someone else getting rewarded for doing something well? Either made me bitter (did I mention I wanted all the attention? Because I did. CONSTANTLY) or didn't affect me in any way at all. Mary Lou Retton won the gold medal in the '88 Olympics? Good for her! Next. Our family business is doing so well, we're making it into a chain? Um, cool. What's in it for me?

(I did mention I was a self-absorbed (and possibly sociopathic, apparently) little kid, right? Just so we're clear.)

I'm assuming it has to do with me simply getting older, being more mature (most of the time, anyway) and learning to appreciate other people and their accomplishments. But at this point in my life, it takes very little to make me start blubbering.

A 15-year-old sings in front of the American Idol judges, and she's truly humbled when they tell her she's amazing? Sniff. A football player attributes his success to his father, who is attending today's service in a wheelchair. Can someone please get me some Kleenex? My honorary niece smiles in her sleep? Can't see her, because of the tears pouring out of my eyes right now. My actual niece snuggles into the blanket I made for her before she was born? Please ignore these GASPING SOBS, I'll be fine in a minute.

I realize these are all somewhat legitimate reasons for getting emotional, and there are likely many others who join me in getting misty during these types of moments.

That's why I'm embarrassed to tell you that I also get teary when:
  1. The final person is chosen on one of those "of Love" shows VH1 is responsible for foisting on us. "They just want to find love!" *Sniff* (Does it matter that I already know the new lovebirds will last for a maximum of three months after the fact, and more than likely are just doing this for publicity anyway, and those shows are totally fake? No. It does not.)
  2. The 10-year-old boy holds the door for his mother and then me as we exit Panera. "What a little gentleman!" *Tear*
  3. My dog sits in the middle of the living room floor, looking perfectly happy and content. "He's such a good boy!" *Sniff, tear*
  4. My boss says, "S, you're doing such a great job! I'm just so proud of you, and we'd like to promote you." "Oh, thank you..." *Trying to remain professional while desperately searching for a tissue because both my mascara and my nose are running and no, it's NOT ALLERGIES*
Someone has a crisis? I'm alert, focused and ready to help fix the problem. Death in the family? I'm very sad, but able to quietly reflect and hold it together.

"S, you're great and we really like what you're doing."

"YOU LIKE ME! YOU REALLY LIKE ME!! Boooohooooooo!!"

Wow. Maybe I am a sociopath.

2 backtalk:

Ky (Two Pretzels) said...

I truly enjoyed this post. I'm still smiling.


You're not a sociopath.

Summer said...

This makes me want to give you a hug. :) Thanks for sharing!

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