So, Scangirl has officially left the apartment we shared for the last 9+ months. It wasn't an easy existence but one that I thought was easily within reach of working out well, Scangirl thought otherwise. I can go on and on about how it ended and whose fault it was but this is a public blog so I'll keep it to a minimum.
However, there is one thing I regret about myself, I have a hard time crying. I get sad, melancholy, and wistful. I also get angry, spiteful, sarcastic, defensive and on rare occasions, throw tantrums. But cry? I don't know if I can.
When Scangirl announced she was leaving me, She cried a pool of tears that came out as easily as milk from a dropped glass. women are good at that. But I'm a man, a sensitive man, but a man who doesn't know how to cry at appropriate times, a good wailing is not unmanly and I REALLY wish I could wail out in despair over this situation but instead the anger part, the shame part, the ego part takes over and I ruin any possibility for reconciliation. A good cry might give me hope.
I remember a time I could give out a good cry. On May 5, 1980, My sister Deirdre died. I was just a kid, but I was old enough to where crying was unacceptable for a male, but boy did I wail in despair that day and the days that followed. I was numb, devastated, and practically inconsolable but the cry release was cathartic . You see, I'm reminded of Deirdre every year at Cinco De Mayo which was yesterday. A Day of celebration becomes a reminder of the worst day of my life. When I have deep thoughts of my sister, I come close to shedding a tear. Water does well up in my eyes, but not enough to fall down my face.
I'm feeling sorry for myself these days and I just want to have a good cry, a good weeping. I just wish I could.