Unexpected Tears…and Pot Roast
“I know that.”
“Crystal, look at me. You are allowed to say no. You’re an adult…”
“But what about the other person?”
“You take care of you. It doesn’t make you the bad guy and it doesn’t make you a tease to say no. Why do you think you deserve to say no?”
“I don’t know.”
But I did say no. And he kissed me anyway. It was nice for a moment. Well it felt nice — my lips felt nice. But I panicked and I almost froze. But I stayed there. I kept thinking. Kept moving. I tried to stop him. I tried to be gracious — to twist myself out of the kiss kindly, but forcefully — but he grabbed my face with his hand and pulled my mouth to his again. And again. I asked him to leave. He was mad at me. He stormed away.
I cried and cried. It was difficult to drive myself the four blocks home.
I cried and cried. For almost an hour.
I’m glad Dee was on the porch when I got home because I didn’t want to be alone in my apartment with my tears. My sobbing. The retching…
Dee was proud of me for saying no.
I went inside. Crawled into bed and cried until I could release enough of whatever it was to allow myself to sleep.
“Why did that hurt so much?”
“If I have to do downward-facing dog one more time I might puke.”
“Okay, now let’s sit.”
“Thank you, God…”
“Now reach your right hand back and twist your torso…”
“Oh no…I might puke anyway…”
I broke pose.
“I’m definitely bringing water and a towel next time.”
I crossed my legs Indian-style and just sat there trying not to wretch during the next two poses. I recovered. No throwing up.
“Not too bad for a fat girl.” I thought as I worked myself back in for the final poses. Then we were done posing. I sat for our meditation.
I felt the air moving around my sweaty body. It was getting cooler. Maybe it just felt cooler because the room was dark. I felt very grateful, and I cried. But not because of the gratitude.
“Why am I so sad?”
I didn’t move, but I felt like I was vibrating. I didn’t make any noise but something inside me felt like a bell ringing. A big church bell reverberating everything around it. The tears were streaming down my cheeks. Gushing down my neck and into my shirt. Most of them coming to rest along with the sweat in the hollow between my breasts, inside my sports bra.
“Why am I crying?”
I pulled myself together in the dark and wiped the obvious tears from my face. Rolled up my mat, put my shoes and jacket on, thanked the instructor and then went to my car.
As I turned the key in the ignition my eyes started over-flowing again. I cried for at least an hour. Sobbed. Retching tears.
“Why does this hurt so much? What is wounded?”
I called my sister. Just to tell her what was going on. I needed a witness. She assured me that I wasn’t crazy. She listened to my theories on why I was so upset. I still don’t understand it.
“We have left over pot roast.”
“Is it okay if I come over and have some?”
“Of course, that’s why I mentioned it.”
“See you in a little bit.”
“I love you.”
“Love you too. See you soon.”
I ate too much dinner tonight. I was really hungry by the time I got off work. It was a late night. The food tasted really good.
I fought back tears even after the first bites. I wasn’t even full yet.
“Don’t cry. Not in front of mom and dad.”
I cleaned my plate. Put it in the sink. Sat with them for a while and drove home. As I turned the key in the ignition I felt the tears again.
“Why does every food choice and almost every meal reduce me to tears?!”
I tried to remember everything I had eaten today. I don’t remember. But something makes me think it was far too much.
“Why did that hurt so much? It was just a little too much pot roast.”