The Tears of a Tina

Following is what I wrote for Paul's Super Fun (though I probably should get his definition of fun), Multi-part Unofficial Challenge, though this time what I wrote will probably be disqualified since I didn't follow the rules. Though can something be disqualified from an unofficial challenge?

Last Time I Cried

Halloween used to be my favorite holiday. I loved dressing up and going to parties. This year, I spent the day at Apple Hill in Placerville with my oldest daughter, Calliope. We hiked, ate too many apple sweets, drank cider, and petted goats. The weather was gorgeous. We had a lovely day.

By the time we headed home, it was dark and sprinkling. I was quiet, exhausted from the day, when Cai asked, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

The truth was I was avoiding Halloween.

Tears started streaming.

Last Halloween, Kevin (yeah, that bastard) ended our three-year relationship via text. A fucking text! I had been pissed he'd “forgotten” to invite me to game night but remembered his female friends that he told me he’s attracted to.

I should have dumped his sorry ass. Instead, I convinced myself he was better than me, that his money, fancy job, and wealthy neighborhood made him someone I was lucky to have.

We tried to remain friends. Then, for my birthday, I learned he'd been trashing me behind my back.

What hurts almost as much is that my closest friend, who knows everything, still chooses to be friendly with him. So now, I don’t trust anyone anymore.

This year has been lonely. I want a partner, but dating is a fucking nightmare!

I spent a beautiful day with someone I love. And still, on the drive home, I cried.

Actually, I am crying again as I type. 

The Last Time I Laughed

My laugh has always been something people—friends, family, strangers—compliment. But honestly, I have always felt a bit insecure about how loud it is. I used to think it sounded weird, though I’ve since changed that adjective to unique since others have called it infectious.

A few years ago, I was at the beach in Capitola with a large group of friends when I heard the familiar voice of my coworker Joyous. Neither of us knew the other would be there that weekend, more than 100 miles from home. She found me because I was laughing. She told me she had stopped, looked around, and said to her husband and children, “That sounds like my coworker Tina.” She followed the sound until she found me. We hugged, and she told me how happy my laugh made her whenever she heard it.

Two weeks ago, at an early Halloween party, I sat watching everyone drink, chat, and laugh. My friend Sara sat beside me and said she missed seeing me out. We’d crossed paths a couple of times in recent months, but I never lingered. I always found an excuse to leave. Then she said, “You’re different. You’re quieter.”

I excused myself to cry in the bathroom. I know I’m different, and I hate it. I want to be the woman I was: the woman who laughs, gets excited about things, dances, and sings bad karaoke. The woman who had hope for her future.

Last Christmas, I spent 72 hours on a psychiatric hold. That led to six weeks of intensive outpatient therapy, three times a week, weekly two-hour DBT group sessions, and one-on-one appointments with my shrink. I learned a lot about myself and relationships. I learned so many freaking strategies that I have made part of my life. I use all the “tools”, but still haven’t rebuilt the woman I was.

I still haven’t learned how not to be hurt when people hurt me, but I’ve learned to walk away sooner and go silent. I guess that is something.

So, Paul Stewart, I wish I could tell you the last time I laughed. But I don’t fucking remember.

I’m crying again.

Damn this unofficial challenge!!