Tears of a clown...

"Tears are words the mouth can't say nor can the heart bare." - Joshua Wisenbaker

"I didn't know why I was going to cry, but I knew that if anybody spoke to me or looked at me too closely the tears would fly out of my eyes and the sobs would fly out of my throat and I'd cry for a week." - Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar

I'm a cryer.  I can't deny it or hide it.  I cry when somebody does something selfless for someone else.  I cry when I perceive pain or heartache.  Heck, I cry at commercials and when someone sings a beautiful song.  I cry when I feel strongly and am trying to articulate those feelings.  I'm a cryer.  

Lately, you could call me a frequent cryer.  I don't know if it is the frustration and stress of the situation, or possibly from the guilt I feel.  I am sure menopause has a huge hand in it all.  As well as my recent poor health.  It's probably a combination of all of those things.  

But, one thing I do know is that my tears of late have transitioned from my eyes quietly (and privately) leaking, to great, racking sobs.  I never know what will set me off.  It could be anything from 2 rude women chastising me, to someone borrowing a hairbrush and failing to return it.  It is unpredictable and it is all-consuming.  It is frequent.  

Do I feel better after the breakdowns?  Sometimes.  Other times I feel even guiltier.  I know my girls worry about me.  And I hate the stress that it adds to their lives.  Occasionally, I feel refreshed and ready to start again.  But, mostly I feel out of control.  There is so little left in my left that is my choice.  And, uncontrollable tears are just another thing that is out of my hands.