That stupid time I cried
I can’t begin to describe how silly I felt when I found myself crying over my canceled vacation.
Which is what brought me here — playing detective trying to understand why the hell I (a seemingly put together, not emotional, resting bitch-faced, go-with-the-flow kind of being) would cry over something as trivial as a change of plans.
Let’s break this down into some possible reasons.
Maybe it has to do with the fact that now, instead of spending a week boarding and lounging at the lake, I will be stuck in beautiful Orange County with a paradise pool and the beach merely 10 minutes away. Poor me, right? (Don’t worry, I would punch myself in the face too if that was really why.)
Perhaps it’s that I’d already done backflips over the fact that I’d have a whole 7 days free of the corporate jail I call work, after an especially long and hellish week.
More likely than this? Predicting that my annoying conscience will feel bad for not leaving anymore, leading me to work for most of my precious PTO that I already rubbed in everyone’s faces. There goes my Friday plan of riding off into the sunset and mentally flipping my department the bird whilst shouting “Too-da-loo, motherfuckers!” Fuck it, I may still do that.
Please tell me it’s not because I’ve been home alone and lonely, forced to go out of my way to socially interact with someone who isn’t being paid to take my coffee order.
It could be that I actually felt the weight and stupidity of being “devastated” over my first-world problem when no less than an hour before I walked past a man begging for food to survive. (I like to think that this is the winner, but let’s be real — having that kind of existential breakdown is thinking way too highly of myself.)
Or maybe, just maybe, something just flew into my eye at the exact moment I was told the news, creating a reaction that may have seemed like crying to the naked eye, but was really a ripple effect of something wild like a bee dying 3 miles away. Ahh, if only.
No. The ugly truth is that I cried. I cried over my vacation being changed to a slightly different vacation that in all honestly will be just as nice. I’m not proud of it, but here I am — seeking a conclusion that brings comfort to me and anyone else who has found themselves in a WTactualF is wrong with you state of mind.
So here it is, my big conclusion.
Sometimes you cry over stupid shit because there’s some other real shit that you should’ve cried about but didn’t. Or maybe you just cry because you built something up in your head but it didn’t work out because reality’s a bitch. Whatever — just get it over with and cry. Have your pity party of one, write an excessively long post about all the feelings, then pick yourself up and move on. There are more important things in life, and you’re going to miss them if you keep crying over stupid little beaches.