I get very quiet when I’m unhappy or working through details I don’t love. I suppose it could be some form of pouting, though I’m not mad or upset. When I’m resigned and trying to pull myself together to avoid the temper tantrum I’d love to indulge in, I just need to be left alone to untangle my emotions.
I’m guilty of being exceedingly stubborn when inspired. When I make my mind up about something or someone… it takes an act of Congress to change it. I’m not inflexible and strive to make even the worst situations easier… but heaven help the soul who decides to push me when I’m silent.
I don’t react pleasantly. I blame being a Cancer. Leave the little crab alone if you know what’s good for you. I’m content to hurt alone, but quite capable of inviting someone to join me in my sad little puddle if they ignore the warning signs and keep pestering me.
I don’t get mad… I get silent. The curtains that are my eyelids, close. My mouth falls softly into a slight frown and my eyebrows follow suit. The litany of hurtful words slide down my sore throat and I take myself away. When I’m really hurt and angry, I cease to exist in the lives of those responsible.
Its terrifying, according to my daughter.
LR- Ugh, I wish you’d learn to yell. That whole silent frowning thing you do is the worst.
I have friends who go nuts and shout. I have a few that throw things. My favorite spicy Brazilian takes her husband’s car & card and spends a few thousand dollars. We all have our own personalized reaction to heartbreak and disappointment, mine is just eerily calm.
I used to rail against the world and storm my fury down on anyone close enough to be hit by the windwall. I used to burn white hot. Something shifted this time and the mere inability to carry the two halves of my heart AND a chip on my shoulder, simultaneously; made letting go of the chip a little easier. I’d rather sit quietly and knit the two pieces back together, than run the risk of leaving important parts of myself behind again.
Finally………… I can say that I worry about walking away intact more than I do about returning the pain that inspired me to get going in the first place.
Yesterday was my last day on Tinder. Halle-fucking-luyah. It’s not for lack of a delicious menu, but the stark reality is that the menu doesn’t offer what I want. It’s not important to me to replace him as much as it is to understand why I don’t want anyone else. This is a first for me… this pervasive desire for a man I cannot have. Instead of begrudging it, I’m laughing through the misery of it all and trying to walk away with a better understanding of why.
I hate to admit it but I think I might be a grown up.
…or the most stubborn girl on the planet.