Archives for posts with tag: emotions

From time to time, K. and I get together for lunch. We used to work together long ago and kept in touch. It’s hard for me to believe she’ll be 64 this year. I told her that her spirit is like a 30 year old to me and she has a glow about her–a youthfulness–that doesn’t make her seem her age.

K. is picky about where we eat, so I was pleasantly surprised when she said yes to the Indian restaurant that serves a lunch buffet. Is it clean she asked. Yes, I said. Is it good? Well, I like it…yes, it’s good. We chose a table near the back in this dimly lit restaurant with colorful walls and Indian music playing in the background. We went up to fill our plates with a variety of Indian fare. When we get back to the table, we both admire our plates. To me, it’s like a palette of desert colors waiting to be painted into a beautiful piece of art, and the spices take me somewhere far away that I’d like to experience in real time. K. is excited and after taking her first bite, she is in love with this place and plans to come back and bring back her co-workers. I tell her I’m so happy to hear it, that I’m glad she likes it and was willing to give it a chance.

We talk about our lives, about how we have in common this drifting quality, this thing in both of us where we never really found “careers” and that neither of us has ever aspired to “success” in the traditional sense. It’s interesting for me to juxtapose our similarities given the age span between us.

We talk about how I’m trying to get pregnant and how it’s scary, being older and not having a super solid foundation, but having a deep feeling that things will work out if indeed I am able to conceive and follow through with a healthy pregnancy. She tells me how she’s always wanted children, but she said from the get go her husband made it clear he did not want children. He did not want to bring a child into this world; and I have to say, I used to feel exactly the same way, but things have changed. I have changed.

My mother conceived me when she was 43 and I was born in the summer when she was 44. This year I will be two years younger than the age she was when I was conceived. When I told my brother, who practically raised me, that hubby and I were trying to get pregnant, he was so excited for us and said that he and his girlfriend had wondered about it. I told him of my concerns, being older and all; and of course, he reminded me of our mother having me when she was close to my age. I said, yes, but…and gave him a few of my concerns. He said to keep positive. I said, yes, and asked him if he would pray for me, and he said of course.

At this point I don’t want to get my hopes up because first we have to actually get pregnant and second…well, it’s very possible we can’t. It’s difficult to make a decision to want something, something as big and life changing as having a baby, only to feel that the odds are against you, even though you see older mothers conceiving and having healthy babies all the time. We haven’t’ been trying terribly long, but each month I get my period, there’s a small sadness that hovers over me. When I see pregnant mothers, there is a longing inside of me. When I play with little A., I want so much to be a mother. But, this is in my body’s hands and in God’s hands. What will be, will be. My migraines are a whole other issue. I can’t take any medication, except Tylenol, which really doesn’t help. I stopped taking the daily meds right away when we knew we were trying and hubby said to be sure to speak to the doctor about the medication I take. I remain hopeful.

So K. and I talked about all that and she assured me that she had no regrets at not having children, but the thought didn’t leave my mind, and I vowed to myself and hubby felt the same way; we don’t want to have the regret of at least not trying.

We also talked about movies. First it started with me asking her if her husband was emotional or if he was more like my husband, which is probably like most men–which is hardly emotional.

I gave her a recent example. I told her how we were in a nice restaurant and for some reason I decided to tell hubby about a Japanese movie that I had watched called Departures and how although there was a bit of light humor throughout, ultimately, it was a melancholy film that moved me deeply, especially the final scene. I told her that as I described the final scene to him, I choked up and that he gave me this look to say are you really going to start crying in the middle of dinner while I’m trying to enjoy my steak and shrimp. I pushed through it without tears.

So here I am retelling the same final scene to K. and the strange thing is, I thought it would be out of my system; instead, I was reliving the moment and I choked up again, only I let the tears come and she got emotional and she started crying and then laughing and then I started laughing and crying again and then laughing because here we are in the restaurant, two women crying over their meals.

She then told me about a movie that made her emotional called Hachi. I told her I hadn’t seen it but that I knew of the movie. And well, we went through the process again because as she told me what the movie was about, she started welling up and her emotion touched me and we were crying and laughing again.

I noticed that her tears were a lot bigger than mine. I reached into my bag and offered her a tissue to wipe the mascara that had trickled down her face.

Yesterday was a perfectly fine day, and I went and let my mood buttons get the best of me. I’ve observed in myself these tendencies–they’ve been no secret to me for quite some time, too long, perhaps, since childhood, really. It doesn’t make it any better. When my emotions are running rampant, more so during those particular times of the month–the feminine cycles, well, those are the times I know even better to bite my tongue, to let things roll off my back, but it never fails that something will push my button during those times, and it usually happens at work and it’s usually the boss. I sometimes will speak my mind, unable to carefully think before I speak. If a button gets pushed–usually it’s the “don’t take it personal” button–I get caught up in the moment and before I know it, I’m letting the boss know how I feel. He doesn’t really listen. He says “uh-huh” and looks down at what’s he’s doing, but he doesn’t give the courtesy to act like he’s interested, to at least acknowledge–something, anything.

Yesterday, I was ready to come to the page, to my blog and get it out of my system–to vent. But I try…I have an unspoken rule…that if I must vent, it has to be while I’m not angry any longer or at least not as angry. The thing is, I’m mad at myself. I can’t stand it when I let others get the best of me. I can’t stand it that sometimes I’m too sensitive for my own good, and at the same time I can be a tough cookie. I’m a sensitive, soft, crisp cookie that will help you out, but if you speak to me in a way that pushes my buttons, if you think you’re going to do something that I don’t like or agree with and not think I’m going to speak up if it’s important enough to me, well, those Cancer claws come out and the Aires moon in me charges forward before she can pull her words back and the Leo in me, that’s an interesting balance, amongst my quiet, sensitive, reserved Cancer nature.

One thing I’ll say in hindsight is that yesterday was absolutely partially “my stuff.” It was something that I shouldn’t have reacted to, but that’s the thing…when you haven’t worked through the anger that is beneath the surface, the big things are set off by the little, insignificant things. The issue itself is a philosophical difference and I have accepted it to an extent. It’s a different way of managing, a different style. I have a choice of course. To leave or stay. But at the end of the day, I don’t see the benefits of leaving over a few trifles.

I feel better already…One thing that keeps ringing in my ears is when I asked my uncle about a month back if I was like my mother or how was I like my mother. I guess I wanted to hear his perspective. I know they were close. It’s hard to get much out of my uncle. He doesn’t believe in family history. He’s a tough cookie too. I think it runs in the family. What he said in response to my question is this: “You know what I like about you? You don’t take any crap from anyone–just like your mother. You don’t let people walk all over you. You speak your mind.”

That was his way of answering the question and that’s all he had for me. I thought about it and nodded. Yes, I guess he’s right. And I’ve had to take a stand with my uncle on a few occasions. In general, I’m a softy. You’d never know that I have occasion to lose my temper, and that if I must, I will defend myself verbally. I mean, I do try to find balance, but sometimes, the needle leans to the other side of balance.

I embrace myself with all of my emotions and expressions of self. Even if I annoy myself and get angry at myself for being me, I wouldn’t change a thing about myself because these qualities are who I am. I can always try to be better at controlling my emotions, but without the mix of these often, contradictory emotions and feelings, the positive sides wouldn’t be there either. In the end, there is balance.

I am fire and water, the moon and the sun–Yin and Yang.