Fun fact about me- I’m completely emotionally damaged. Not in the psychotic killing squirrels for fun kind of way, but in the I-have-completely-inappropriate-emotional-responses to situations kind of way.
Something horribly sad and sorrowful? I feel the uncontrollable urge to make a joke. Usually a naughty and highly in appropriate one.
Something is terribly uncomfortable and embarrassing and awkward? I usually tell the story about getting attacked by coyotes whilst crapping in a cornfield. (I’ll be sure to share it here someday too, it’s pure gold people.)
Or today for example, something just made me so angry that I can’t speak? I cry like a baby.
The worst part it, these are emotional sneak attacks. I know that I don’t operate in the realm of normal human interactions, but no matter how I pep talk myself, I can’t ever seem to talk myself OUT of doing something that’s just odd.
Today’s example, I am standing in a colleagues office, raging about some work-related injustice. Out of nowhere I choke up, my eyes flood with tears, and out comes one of those hiccupping sobs.
As if that wasn’t enough, I then proceed to talk, OUTLOUD, to myself for the next several seconds saying things like, “calm down, act normal, don’t be weird, get it together…” and so on.
Of course, this colleague is not only male, but a dad, so he feels the urge to comfort me. Sweet, but unfortunately for him, I’m not sad. I’m angry.
Flaming raging angry.
And I’m crying about it.
Because that makes sense.
So moral of the story? Should you ever see me curled up in the fetal position bawling my eyes out in the corner, RUN in the opposite direction. It’s safer that way, not only for you, but the squirrels too.