I Wanted To Cry

I had a crying moment yesterday, only I couldn't. It happens to me every once in a while, that I will feel like crying yet the tears will not come. Were I to have had a few drinks, or perhaps more than a few, I might have been able to cry, might have been able to get that whole emotion out there. I have trouble with this when I am constrained by sobriety. I want to cry, but I can't.

This feeling doesn't just magically arrive. It's usually something that triggers it, often a major change in my life, perhaps a new piece of equipment or some confrontation with my limitations. When I keep it contained, it passes, slowly. When I can get it out, it passes, slowly. No matter what my condition, the emotional distress takes its own sweet time in leaving me.

Yesterday's sadness, it's moment of near tears, was triggered by something almost silly in its nature. I was working away at my computer, doing the photo blog that I have for road tripping. I wanted to reference something in my wallet, so I reached for my pouch, the one which now replaces my pockets, those being made difficult for me by the wheelchair. My pouch was sitting on my computer bag, on the chair beside me. So I reached over and grabbed it.

As I pulled it upwards and towards me, I thought to myself "Gee, it's heavy." I looked to see if it was snagged on something; no, it was free and clear. I looked to see if I had put something heavy inside it and forgotten; no, it was just the usual stuff. And I don't have that much money in it, so that certainly wasn't it.

Then it hit me. My pouch wasn't getting heavier; my arms are getting weaker. I took a moment to let that sink in. Then I thought about other things lately which have been getting "heavier"; my suitcase, my computer bag, the laundry hamper, the jug of water in the truck, even my phone seems to be heavier, especially after a few minutes into a call.

And then I wanted to cry. I couldn't; it wasn't there. But I wanted to, I really wanted to.