I’m not sure when or how it developed, but I have a tendency to well up quite easily. And it’s beginning to get a bit embarrassing…
I cry at sad stuff, and in that I’m sure I am not alone. For example, anyone else listening to Brisbane radio station B105 promote their upcoming Royal Children’s Hospital appeal recently must have surely had tears in their eyes. Or at the very least a lump in their throat. When one hears or reads about another person experiencing unthinkable suffering, it is hard not to feel a strong sense of empathy and emotion. But this is not the type of thing I am embarrassed about. I mean, after all, I am only human…
Rather my concern is my extreme weakness for the heart warming moments in everyday life, especially if they involve community spirit in any form. They make me want to cry, and I’m not sure that’s completely normal.
For example, performances (even bad ones) by my daughter’s infant school choir have a tendency to set me off. The kids are just so darned cute, and the innocence of their singing voices coupled with the love and pride written all over their parents’ faces… well, it moves me to tears. Not even the distraction of my daughter’s incessant fidgeting is enough to quell my desire to just have a good old cry. But it would be unseemly for me to start sobbing in the middle of the multipurpose hall, right? The only thing that helps suppress the lump in my throat is the promise of a god-awful recorder performance at some stage during the proceedings.
If this were the end of it, I would be not be concerned. After all, the choir does not perform publicly that often. And when my daughter sings solo at home, I have an overwhelming desire not to cry but to come up with an excuse to leave the room as quickly as possible. (Unfortunately, she has inherited my singing voice.)
Unfortunately I have many other triggers, including but not limited to:
- Any situation in which a crowd of people applauds a poor yet gutsy performance. For example, if everyone stands to applaud the runner who comes last in a marathon, that’s it for me. Tissues needed.
- The Lollipop lady at my daughter’s school who knows the name of every single child who crosses under her watch – get me on a bad morning, and the sheer communityness of the whole situation puts a lumpin my throat that is then made worse as we pass by the school’s flourishing vegetable garden (managed by parent volunteers).
- Infant school athletic carnivals. Everything about them.
- The arrivals gate at the airport. Makes me cry every time, but somehow I can’t look away. “Memories, like the corners of my mind…” starts playing in my head, and I become so engrossed in bearing witness to the heartfelt embraces taking place around me that I completely forget to keep a lookout for Hubby whom I haven’t seen in two weeks.
The upcoming festive season has dangers lurking around every bend. Hubby understands my weakness and is usually there to squeeze my hand and strengthen my resolve. But he will be away for much of the lead up to Christmas. Without him, I shall be attending my three-year-old daughter’s Junior Kindy Christmas party complete with performances of We Wish You a Merry Christmas and Rudolf the Red Nosed Reindeer. How to cope?? I shall also be forced to watch on at school pickup while 6 and 7 year olds puff out their shoulders as they proudly hand their report cards to their parents. Not to mention waiting in the queue to see Santa and witnessing child after child (including my own) muster up the courage to make their shy requests of the sweet retired guy in the suit looking for a bit of extra cash…
Am I the only one who will spend the festive season blinking away tears and thanking god for sunglasses? Also, am I the only one in the room swallowing down the lump in their throat when Jackson from 1A beams with pride upon receiving an award for improved concentration in class? Plus, am I the only one who tears up during the national anthem at the start of the AFL grand final, even though I have no intention of watching the game?
Or is everybody doing it…?