Just Don’t Say Anything Nice

I had a horrible day last Sunday.  I’m not going to go into details about why  or what happened because I don’t want to, and it will take too long, and frankly because it’s none of your business, suffice it to say that it was a crappy day.

It was a crappy enough day that by the end of sacrament meeting I was crying on and off.  Mostly I was keeping it together but every once in a while my control would slip and I’d loose it, a tear or two would leak out and then I’d have to repeat the herculean effort of stopping, and mopping up my face and staving off the crying again.  Most of the time I managed it.

But then sacrament meeting ended, and that my friends was a problem.  As long as sacrament meeting was going I could sit and cry if I needed to and sniffle and wipe my tears and so forth.  And while it’s possible that other people around me saw, and noticed they couldn’t do anything about it because we were in the middle of a meeting and you can’t really get up and chat with someone in the middle of a meeting.  But when the meeting ends… then you can.

It’s true that I was having a horrible day and that I was miserable and all the attendant badness.  But when I’m in a public place and I’m having a horrible day and I’m just barely keeping it together I really need you to NOT be nice to me.

I believe that there’s no surer way to make a woman cry than to corner her when she’s trying really hard not to cry and be nice to her.

In fact, I firmly believe that there is nothing worse you can do to a woman in that state  than to be nice to her.  I think, although I have never tested the theory, that you could probably be mean to me when I’m in that state and that would be fine, at least it would not unleash the flood that a kind word will.  The best thing, of course, is to ignore completely, either ignore me altogether or at the very least, ignore my fragile state.  But DO NOT be nice to me, then it’s all over.

So there I am trying to herd the kids out of the meeting and into the car and remembering that I needed to pay my tithing and fighting with the InfaDel and… and someone has to come up to me and say something nice.  The jerk.

In the end I did manage to pay the tithing and get out before I made a complete fool of myself (I think) but it was a close thing and I did have to wave off the bishop who looked at me very concernedly and tried to ask me what was wrong or what he could do or some such other kindly meant but ultimately unpleasant (for both of us) query.  I waved him away and I ran (not literally, quite).

I made it home and I had a good yell and I slammed cupboards (strange how quickly depression morphs into anger, and back and forth) and I got it out and I’m fine now.  But I implore you, next time you see me on the verge of tears and you just must do something, punch me in the nose if necessary, just don’t ask me what’s wrong.

5 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. Kristina P.
    Nov 03, 2010 @ 07:57:34

    Should I kick you in the ovaries the next time I see you?

    Kristina, I believe you’ve hit on the perfect solution-Al

  2. Sarah
    Nov 03, 2010 @ 08:44:52

    That’s me! I feel the same way exactly. I’d rather be ignored than anything else when I’m upset, but if you must, just be mean. Just give me any reason not to want to cry. And no, laughter because you’re trying to help doesn’t help.

  3. Flipflopmama
    Nov 03, 2010 @ 10:45:38

    I can so relate to this. Hope things get better!

  4. bythelbs
    Nov 03, 2010 @ 12:58:20

    I hear ya. I hope your days have gotten progressively less horrible since last Sunday.

  5. cheryl
    Nov 03, 2010 @ 16:28:46

    Yes. It is true. Depression/Anger co-exist and nice, well-meaning people make it worse when they approach during the throes of Depression/Anger.

    I so, so, so, so get this.

    And I love you.

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