Tears for fears…

The year is drawing to the end – praise be, A funny old year for my family and me.

Two diagnoses of cancer a death and addiction, they all come to me with their afflictions.

I’m a pretty strong woman who has her ‘sh*t together’, happy-go-lucky and rarely under the weather.

But ‘Oh my gosh! ‘ my year has been madness, this once savvy lady now consumed with a sadness… I wouldn’t say depressed, no ‘black dog’ lives here, but my anxieties are visible through my continuous tears.

They just won’t stop!…

Out comes the emotion – no more repression, my boyfriend says “Darling it’s a good way of expression. Now stop trying to maintain that stiff upper lip, look after your soul and maybe go get some kip!”

The tightly wound spring is starting to ease . The years worth of strife begin to appease.

But the tears, they’re still coming in spurts through the day, induced by ‘just things’ that get in my way…

I cry at the puddle, the toilet, the car, I cry in the traffic jam and then in the Spar. I cry that there’s no carrots to go with my peas, when I slipped on the ice and fell on my knees. I cry because I can’t find my sons waterproof pants, I cry because I forgot to water my plants. I cry hearing the brass band playing carols on TV and that the cat knocked the decorations off the Xmas tree.

I just don’t stop…

All this crying is good. My boyfriend knows best. Because whilst I’m doing all this crying; I’m certainly peeing less!

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