I am absolutely convinced that there is nothing quite as therapeutic as a good, long cry. Not necessarily a sad cry or a happy cry. Just a cry for the sake of crying. I know it's a cliche girl deal. Whatever. I allow myself one tremendous, scheduled cry every month. Random movie moments and Hallmark commercials aside, I stick to my schedule very well.
This cry wasn't due for another week, however, today after a very long day, I decided my calendar needed an adjustment. So, I watched Steel Magnolias, sat down on my bed with a box of Kleenex, read things, and cried and cried... until I realized, like I always do, that there are much more productive and wonderful things I should be doing and then, just like that, I stopped crying. And got up, wiped my eyes, looked in the mirror, and promised myself that I'll be more than fine until next month. Which I will be, naturally. Somehow it gets seemingly easier.
I don't know how it does that, but I'm not complaining.
It's late. I'm tired.
This cry wasn't due for another week, however, today after a very long day, I decided my calendar needed an adjustment. So, I watched Steel Magnolias, sat down on my bed with a box of Kleenex, read things, and cried and cried... until I realized, like I always do, that there are much more productive and wonderful things I should be doing and then, just like that, I stopped crying. And got up, wiped my eyes, looked in the mirror, and promised myself that I'll be more than fine until next month. Which I will be, naturally. Somehow it gets seemingly easier.
I don't know how it does that, but I'm not complaining.
It's late. I'm tired.
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