Sharing a bed with someone makes crying yourself to sleep nearly impossible

15 Feb

And I found this out the hard way on Monday night. I was watching the new show Smash, and if you are unfamiliar with this new drama, the short version is that it’s a show about show business. It’s a behind the scenes look at the producing, writing, auditioning, and directing of a Broadway musical. Can you say, “hits too close to home?” I mean, I really can’t pretend to relate to New York actresses who sing and dance and audition for high-profile productions about Marilyn Monroe, BUT I have felt those same feelings and I can only imagine how much harder it is to be a starving artist in NY. The blonde girl in the show has been back-up dancing in a musical for nearly a decade and is really talented but tries too hard, and the skinny brunette girl (Katharine McPhee) waits tables, has a very supportive boyfriend, and loads of talent but not enough drive or fierceness to land a big role. I relate to both of them, I try too hard AND I’m sort of the meek quiet girl when it comes to auditioning. Coupled with my hiatus from the stage and these intense feelings rushing back, I just needed a good theatrical cry.

The Scottish, and I’ll say men in general, do NOT enjoy it when women cry. They feel the need to “fix” it and they try to make suggestions and encourage you to try harder when all you want is them to say is, “It’s going to be OK.” That’s all that’s needed. But the Scottish in particular feels bad and doesn’t want me to be upset, and so I’m forced to get it together and end a good cry too early. It’s a real shame. Back in my single days I would be able to have a good meltdown by myself whenever I needed it. Sometimes I’d have two before bedtime. I am an equal-opportunity cry-er, I will cry about anything, about missing home and family, about being single and alone, about not getting the part I wanted, and most recently about back pain. And the best part (for me) is turning off all the lights, laying on my side, and letting the tears roll down my face. I imagine how cool this would look in a movie and for a moment I forget whatever it is I’m depressed about. Soon I remember why it is my life sucks in the first place, and then I yell at myself because I’m so lame I’m not even crying over real problems, and then I cry because I don’t like it when I’m forced to yell at myself. Finally, I fall asleep and then wake up the next morning refreshed and ready to tackle my “problem.” Suffice it to say, crying is a nice emotional release for me and it usually puts me in a way better mood.

But with the Scottish laying right next to me, I am feeling self-conscious and downright stupid. I know I have to quit the water works fast because he’s a light sleeper and I can’t very well be making sobbing noises when he has to get up for work the next day. Plus if he puts his arm around me he’s going to feel my shaking and that could be equally distracting. And then of course he’ll be worrying! He won’t be able to fall asleep knowing I’m so upset. I’ve tried in vain to explain to him that I’m not really that upset; I just enjoy a good cry everyday now and then.

BUT NO. I am forced to stifle my sniffles, blow my nose, and tell him that I’m OK so we can both get some sleep. Ahhhhh, sometimes I look back fondly on those dramatic nights, but when I really think about it, I have to say I prefer having someone laying next to me who cares enough to try and “fix” it. And there’s always the bathroom floor. 🙂

Happy Belated Valentine’s Day! The Scottish bought me roses, a lovely card, and we had a wonderful dinner at this super cute wine bar in Wicker Park!

Quote: “Weeping may endure for a night, but joy cometh in the morning.” Bible Psalms 30:5

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