I will cry at anything, anywhere.
I will cry on the train, at work or on a park bench. I will cry over a film, a text or a memory.
But I never used to.
Up until a couple of years ago I saw crying as a sign of weakness. I don’t think that was something that I was taught as my family are open about their emotions. I think maybe it was a coping strategy. If I didn’t cry I wasn’t sad – or so I thought.
It was also a social stigma for me I think. I remember one girl seeing me cry at school and saying “You can’t cry! You always make everyone else happy! You’re the one who’s always joking around and making everyone smile!”
Well how do you think that makes me feel? Being funny is a full time job and it’s not one I applied for. When am I allowed some down time? When am I allowed to let it all out? I’m not a robot, I have feelings.
It was horrible.
I let it all out on two occasions at school and it scared people. They didn’t know how to react and they didn’t like to see it or think about me being upset. Tough. It happens.
Gradually I introduced more crying until I’ve now reached the stage where it’s not normal if I don’t cry.
I think it’s helped me to become closer to people. People like to see that you struggle too and like to see that you need people. Because I do need people, we all do.
I thought that letting people in would make me vulnerable but it hasn’t. I’ve earnt a lot of respect from people and it’s made me feel more confident.
So put on a sad song and have a good cry. I promise you that getting it out helps.
Today I had an important interview. I knew I needed to perform well and I knew it wasn’t going to be easy. What I didn’t expect was how hard it would be.
In short, I think I did very badly.
I wasn’t so much as unprepared as just unexperienced.
The questions were based on situations I’ve been in and how I’ve handled them. Now it’s not that I haven’t got life experience – I have; 19 years of it – it’s that the life experience I have they aren’t interested in. I’ve been through a lot in 19 years from the death of my dad, to the divorce of my mum and step-dad to my coming out when I was just 13. But these things aren’t taken into account. You don’t get a point for every time that you’ve cried.
And whilst I’ve experienced diversity and being under a strict time constraint my examples don’t seem to be very impressive. They’re about school and what little difficult situations I have faced at work.
For the first time in a long time I feel like my age is against me. I feel useless.
I have a headache and I feel like I want today to be over. I just want some sleep.
This past week I’ve not been myself. I think it’s the weather. Some people strive in the sun but I just feel frustrated and powerless. I think it’s because I can’t do things I normally do without accounting for the beaming sun. If I want to go for a drive in winter all I have to do is flick on my lights but with the sun pouring through my window I have to think about what I’m wearing, how long I’ll be in the car and what I can use to cool me down.
I’ve also lost the enthusiasm to work. I mean I didn’t have lots to begin with but with everyone being back from uni and sunning themselves I feel jealous that I have to work, especially in this heat.
A couple of days ago I was speaking to a woman in a shop about the weather. She said she thought it was too hot and I told her that I worked in a kitchen/behind a hot plate and that it was stupidly hot. She remarked that because I worked in a kitchen I should be used to the heat. What? Why? It’s not like I spend my time with my head in the oven preparing myself for the two days of sun we have a year.
See what I mean about me getting frustrated?
This week has gone extremely quickly but I feel like I’ve achieved very little. The days have merged and, despite seeing a lot of people and enjoying seeing those who are back from uni, I’ve felt quite alone. But not in an alienated kind of way or a “no-one understands me” sort of way just in a “there seems to be a constant stream of thoughts in my head and I kinda want to express them but can’t for some reason and so I just keep thinking about stuff” kind of way. I’ve not felt like this for a long time and it’s a shock to again and so I’ve started writing in my diary again in the hope that it’ll rationalise some of what I’m thinking.
I did it. I’m sorry. I played up to those stereotypes and I hate it. I said what I promised I would never say. It sounds ridiculous but until you know how I feel you can’t understand why I said it. I know I’ve let you down: I’ve let everyone down. I’ve lost your respect and your faith in me. I know what I said was radical and controversial and that some people would find it blasphemous and offensive.
But I said it.
I said “It’s too hot!”
But it really is too hot.
Yesterday I got half way through writing a post about dreams when I decided that it was rubbish. My dream was fragmented at best and didn’t really make any sense so I scrapped the post all together.
Last night I had a proper dream.
I was at an all girls boarding school with my friends and I had just found out that some of my friend’s boyfriends were cheating. This lead to a big confrontation in the changing rooms; accompanied by lots of slapping and crying. It was very realistic.
Then it transpired that I was getting friends of mine, from outside the school, to ship tvs and dvds to me via the nearby country roads.
Next thing I know I’m graduating from uni and watching a film about two women who had recently got married and bought a large country house.
I don’t know what this dream means. There were flickers of reality in my dream and the odd part of my dream played out how I would of liked it to had I been in that situation in everyday life. But normally there is some sort of climax or meaning to my dreams and I’m wondering if I’ve skipped the one in this…
I’m going to get back to the gym this week. Harry is now more than happy to have a little nap for an hour while I pop out so I’m going to.
I’ve missed the gym. There, I’ve said it. I never thought I’d say it but I can feel old habits creeping back in and I don’t like it.
I am going to get fit (again).
Yesterday I got my A2 Woyzeck script back which, as part of my A level in Drama and Theatre Studies, I had to think of a concept for and annotate.
This script means a lot to me. For most people it just looks like a normal script with highlighted chunks of text, mediocre drawings of set design and flawed theories of a murder plot carried out by a spurned man.
To me it is a hell of a lot more.
It’s at least 25 hours of work and lots and lots of sweat and tears. No blood though as I have hemophobia… At the time of my annotations and concept I was very low; probably the lowest I have ever felt. This is reflected in the script through various scribblings which explore my doubting of life, happiness and social hierarchy.
Having a flick through it is both hilarious and harrowing. I was clearly really down and desperately trying to figure things out through the script. I was like a parent living vicariously through a child. But I was also poking fun at the things that were upsetting me the most: the feeling of being lost, being less worthy than others and the feeling of lack of control. I tentatively addressed these in my most common form of distraction: comedy. I ploughed my way through copious monumental decisions by belittling them with wit.
And it worked.
I look back on the script and can conclude that I have done what I set out to do. No, not get a decent A level in that subject (though I did and I was chuffed!) but to understand a bit more of the world we live in and its relevance to me. I have found myself, become a lot more worthy (and a bit cocky) and gained control.
And so I owe a lot to that script.