Blubber: Do you like a Good Cry?

I know how to blubber. Sometimes my emotions come spilling out of my eyeballs. Like this……

I’ve never really seen the problem in having a good old fashioned blubber. For everyone: men, women, young and old. I think its a good release of energy. Get. It. All. Out. I think it’s hilarious when you have a good old blubber and you get the snot bubbles coming out of your nose. Muchos attractive. Of course I absolutely detest other people seeing me cry.

I’ve always been a crier – ever since I was little. Mostly tears of anxiety, tears of change. When I was 6, I did Brownies (mini Girl Guides or Scouts – not soft and gooey poos), I hated it at first – being away from my family and sisters, away from the comfort of home, even for the 2 hours every wednesday evening felt like torture. All week I would have this sense of  impending doom. Every single week without fail, I used to cry for about the first 10 minutes. The Brownie Leader (The owl?)  would take my hand and give me a cuddle and a hanky and say “One day you’ll run out of tears”. I always hoped she was right.

You know when you start to feel the pangs? The mild stinging of the salty tears welling up – burning that little space between your eyeball and eyelid? Once they start flowing, they don’t stop, you know …. until I’ve squeezed out every last remaining drop. Then I cheer right up and act like nothing even happened!

I am always fascinated by what makes other people cry, and more importantly what helps them to stop. My blubber triggers are:

When people are mean to those I love – hearing about my nephews pokemon cards being stolen by another kid, thrown against a tree and stepped on. Anger tears.

Cruelty to animals – I cried when I first got my dog. At the thought of someone deliberately hurting him, kicking and abandoning him. I cried when I recently saw a video on the live export trade and cows being sledge-hammered to death. I cried when the horse died in the quicksand in The Neverending Story. If that didn’t get to you, then I don’t think we can be friends. Sorry not sorry.

Old men and women.  Struggling to do the things that you and I take for granted. Things they used to do themselves not that long ago. Like lifting shopping bags, being able to see things and hear things. Or old people getting robbed because they can’t see the notes they are handing over. Getting beaten up for the sake of $5 and being an ‘easy target’.

Guilt – I have done some things in my life I am not proud of. Some things that I regret and wish if I could turn back the clock, I could have stopped myself from doing them. I knew better. I get upset about it, even though it can’t be changed.

Fear of change – Anxiety is mostly the fear of things that are currently a certain way being……different or another way. Like: Health, money, heartache, rejection, death, loss. All of these result in something that was settled and going along swimmingly now being something different. Sometimes for the better, sometimes for the worse, but there is always a time of adjustment that I am not always at ease with.

People being nice to me – especially when I am feeling a bit down or guilty. I feel like I don’t deserve or need people to be nice or kind to me and although it makes no rational sense whatsoever, it does make me cry.

Emotional stuff – otherwise known as the ‘usual’ – weddings, funerals, baptisms, births.

What gets you guys blubbering?

I once heard a radio announcer say that she used to collect her tears in a jar. I imagine my jar like……

I doubt I would have filled this massive nutella jar up yet, although I am still waiting to run out of tears.