I Hate It When I Cry

There’s something I really don’t like about myself: occasionally something will happen that makes me cry. And not just cry, like really lose it. Usually it’s some mistake I’ve made or a social interaction that didn’t go well, but once my reaction is triggered, it’s a lost cause. I’ll be a blubbering fool for at least twenty minutes.

It happened to me two months ago when a school administrator told me I’d probably never be hired at her school—I broke down in tears right then and there. It almost happened to me two weeks ago when I was trying to mail a package at the post office and argued with the guy about having to step out of line to fill out a form. I was frustrated about him telling me to go all the way to the back of the room, when there was a pen available just down the counter a couple of feet. I tried to stand my ground, he raised his voice a little, and I left feeling very upset. That time I managed to avoid the actual tears, but it took a huge effort.

This picture of Miley Cyrus came up when I searched for google images of “crying,” and I couldn’t help myself. But let’s be real, when I cry, it’s much, much uglier than this

Then, today, I was delivering some papers to a student in another class. When I opened the door to the room, I immediately saw the student I needed, and since the students were all talking and working in groups, I walked over and gave him the papers. The teacher called me over to her desk on the way out to chastise me for approaching the student without asking her first. She was pretty nice about it, but I still felt intimidated and sheepish. I smiled, apologized, and left, but I could feel my cheeks burning, and I could feel THAT feeling. The one that means I’m really bothered by what happened and am about to become upset. Luckily the day was almost over, so my misty eyes and quiet demeanor weren’t detected by my own students or mentor teacher, but it was a struggle to keep my composure while that other teacher’s words were echoing in my head. After school, on the way to the post office (note the recurrence of the post office on the darkest days of my life) I broke down, crying in the car and crying some more when I got home.

That is why I hate when this happens—it ruins my day and turns me into an emotional mess, and for no reason at all! In this case the incident was sooo minor, why should it bother me? She’s right, I should have approached her first. I learned, she wasn’t mad, and all is well, right? And yet, it had me blubbering into my pillow for the better part of an hour. Uh, yeah. I don’t think this is normal. I was so irritated at myself for being unduly upset that I have spent a lot of time considering why I tend to do this. Here are the possible explanations I came up with:

1. I’m mentally deranged.

There has to be a psychological explanation, right? Perhaps it has something to do with my childhood, my need to be an over-achieving, teacher’s pet type. I’ve always craved the approval and affirmation of authority figures, so when one does the opposite, and criticizes me, it’s devastating. Clearly, some major part of my identity was being attacked if I reacted so strongly…But that still doesn’t make it okay for me to freak out when someone isn’t absolutely, perfectly sweet to me.

2. I’m hormonal.

As I’ve come to accept in the last couple of years, PMS is a real thing, and I am not immune to it. For example, my breakdown in the superintendent’s office back in November was definitely influenced by the time of the month. This time, I don’t think that can explain it—it’s not the right time for PMS, and I haven’t noticed any other wayward emotions. So, perhaps hormones can exacerbate my reactions when something triggers THAT feeling, but they can’t be fully to blame.

3. I’m projecting.

I have found that when these triggers do happen, I often feel like I have to let it out and cry, or I won’t be able to move on; it would just fester and make me feel worse. Usually when I let go and let out the tears, I find myself also dwelling on other painful problems in my life, ones I just haven’t allowed myself to cry about yet. During today’s tear-fest I felt the absence of my husband more acutely than I have yet during this time of long-distance, and missing him just made me cry more, and more, and more. Since I’m not the type who regularly cries about stuff that hurts me, maybe it makes sense that when something does finally tip me over the edge, it takes a while to work through, because I am not just crying about that one thing, but about anything and everything that might be bothering me.

4. I’m guilty.

A common factor in most of the scenarios that bring on these kind of breakdowns is that I have done something wrong. Of course, it’s usually quite minor, like what happened today, or making a bit of a scene at the post office. But still, I don’t think things bother me nearly as much when I know I am not at fault at all. When I know, deep down, that I screwed up, it makes me mad at myself, and that is an emotion strong enough to really set me off. This is probably related to point #1—I want to be perfect, especially when it comes to work, and when I fail (and someone notices!) it shames me.

Probably my very worst breakdowns happen when all four of these factors combine into a perfect shit-storm of emotions. I know it’s normal to feel emotions like guilt, anger, shame, and sadness, but I get really pissed when I lose all control over them like I did today. It’s just not going to work for me if I get triggered at the beginning of the day instead of the end, or right before an important meeting, or during a party or special event. The basic cycle is this: When shit happens, I cry. When I cry, I cry more. When I cry more, I get pissed/embarrassed that I am crying. When I get pissed/embarrassed, I cry more. See? That cycle is very, very inconvenient.

Sigh. I know that things will seem much brighter again tomorrow—that crying and a good night’s sleep is probably all I need. But I would love to figure out how to stop this cycle and quell these uncalled for emotional responses. Any ideas? Am I the only one whose emotional defenses can be penetrated by such silly stuff?