The Catharsis of the Ugly Cry

I take weird pride in being able to — mostly — suppress anger or sadness. “Sorry, Brain, no time to break down right now. We have things to do, fine to be.” I don’t know what makes me think stoic equals strong, and I don’t think that of others, but it’s what I try for. Plus I usually need a little time to process things.

But obviously there’s a tipping point. Holding that stuff in for too long makes me tense, and when I finally blow up, it gets ugly (or amazing, if I’ve been suppressing sexual desire).

The upside? An Ugly Cry can be gloriously cathartic. Finally letting it out feels so, SO good, and then everything can start healing.

But I’ve been NEEDING to Ugly Cry for about a week, and haven’t been able to. It keeps trying to get me, like, on my way into work, and I have to put on my “fine” face and focus on things that need to get done. When I get time alone, there are movies and cookies and orgasms to be had. But I’m kind of starting to feel like a terrible person. Am I just dead inside, so easily distracted by baked goods and old movies?

Could I schedule a breakdown? Maybe take some sort of emotional laxative? (A disgusting metaphor, surely, but accurate. A Miralax for feelings — Feelalax. “Emotionally stunted? Ask your doctor if Feelalax is right for you!”)

Eventually I’m going to get hit with one of those sad animal commercials and just lose my goddamn mind.

Handle your business, Brain, or I’ll handle it for you. I’ll put on Up! and you’ll be weeping on the floor like a bitch 5 minutes in. Don’t think I won’t.

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