I have a bit of a problem.
Now, being one who enjoys the physical act of weeping, you would think that this would not be a problem. However, there is one issue that I have with how easily I cry…in the audience. I’m not kidding. Every fucking time.
I cry at friends’ children’s graduations, I cry at live performances, I cry absolutely any time my daughter takes any spotlight at all, it’s absolutely horrifying. Wait, wait, I know that you think, “shit Mikki, this is so fucking normal, you’re such a big ole’ drama queen” and you of course are right, however, wait…I cry at Buddhist blessings….no wait….I cry at any spiritual ‘performance’ at all. You want to see whether I’m pretty when I cry? Fucking take me to fucking Sunday Mass, no wait, I have cried in court! Everyone thought it was my nerves. Fuck no, I’m serious, this is so embarrassing. I can’t even with this shit. And I’m not a pretty crier! It’s terrible, my face squishes up into this….Ms. Potato Head gave birth to Teddy Ruxpin’s drunken post rave LSD-induced Bacchanalian love child. I cry the way that I do everything, over the fucking top.
So…what is it with my place in the audience which moves me so deeply? Honestly? It’s gratitude. It’s honor. It’s pride. It’s pleasure. It is the recognition that these humans in these roles are sharing it with me, from celibate monks to naked ninety year old burlesque dancers, from my grandson’s footrace to a paper napkin poet, they are fucking awesome, because right now they are there, letting me watch them, letting me participate as a voyeur, watching something that they worked on, they are passionate about, something so beautifully human, so sharing.
Even though I get it, trust me, when nobody near you is bawling, and you most visibly are….well…it is just very noticeable…
But then again, what’s the trade? To not be impressed every time one of you has the balls to take center stage? Nah….what fun would that be?
What is your embarrassing ‘cry’ trigger? Do you mind or do you wish you could put a cork in those tear ducts?