At one of my birthday parties (I don’t quite remember what age I was turning) a friend gave me a card that had a poem about friendship written on it. For some reason, the birthday card really touched me, so I started weeping in front of my entire party. Everyone was wondering what was wrong, gathering around me and patting my back, trying to find out why a birthday card could evoke such emotion in a person.
That’s the kind of person I am. A crier. Yet, no matter how often it seems to happen, I hate crying in front of people. Something is so vulnerable and exposing about it. I try to help it, but sometimes it cannot be controlled. Before I know it, I’m sobbing as hard as I did when Carl’s wife died in Up.
I’m trying to accept the fact that I cry a lot. Some people are big feelers, and some aren’t. I just happen to be one of the big feelers, and that’s okay. After all, for anyone whose childhood revolved around VeggieTales…
“My mother was a caterpillar; my father was a worm. But I’m okay with that now.”
I’m a crier, and I’m okay with that now.