Crying in Front of Strangers

It's sorta my new thing.

Thera-Pets card from Kate Allan.

Hello reader friend.

I have decided to publish my first post for paid subscribers today.

I’m doing this for three reasons:

1. This post is deeply personal

2. Sending something to people who are paying to support my writing feels a little like doing a scary-person pre-check. I don’t think YOU are scary, of course, but it’s a helpful filter.

3. Even if you are a paid subscriber, please note that this post could be hard for some of you to read. I mention severe anxiety and panic and abuse in a very broad way (I simply refer to “bad stuff”).

   
   🛑 So. I wanted you to know that and be able to choose whether this post feels like something you want to read about right now.

I won’t feel bad if you don’t. It’s OK.

One of the things I’ve been working on is protecting my soul when I need to, and I hope you will do that now.

Also, please know that I plan to continue publishing lots of free posts, and it’s not all gloomy over here.

I still have a second colonoscopy to write about at some point and Katy Perimenopause has made a request to guest post again …

I use the term “request” loosely because we all know she does what she wants.

Here is a photo of George so you know it’s all good.

I’ll be back soon with something fun.

Love to you,

Kara

P.S. I really do send you love, whether you pay to subscribe or choose a free subscription or even if you read this and realize that you may not want to hang out anymore. It’s OK. 🩵

I will be OK. That’s what I’m figuring out, but this is part of the messy bit.

---

Crying in Front of Strangers

It’s happened twice now, although the first time was far more dramatic.

The first time, it all came out and I couldn’t really stop myself.

I didn’t sob or wail, but there were enough tears that there was no way to be discreet - no way to turn off my camera and mic and blow my nose and try again.

No way to pretend.

I wasn’t fine, and it showed.

So instead, I cried and I defaulted to apologizing.

Sorry is The Watchword

Fun story: When I was pregnant with my oldest, I read a lot of stuff about “natural birth,” (no drugs, basically, and a lot more screaming.)

I decided to try that, and it was maybe OK for the first bit, because I got to sit in a whirlpool tub and eat popsicles and all the nurses were super nice to me because they thought I was nuts.

But then after that … the noise I was making. It was like a wounded animal being crammed into a food processor for 3 hours.

And how did I handle this?

Between contractions, I either passed out, or I apologized.

Just so we know the level of trouble I have inconveniencing people.

Just so we have a baseline.

---

Navigating

The first group of people I cried in front of I’ve known for a year or so.

And so you would think - they’re not really strangers, right?