I remember a scene from Wings where Helen is in the kitchen chopping away at something on a cutting board. She’s sniffling and brushing tears back with the cuff of her sleeve. Joe comes in and asks the obvious:
“Are you crying?”
“No.” She sniffles. “It’s the onions.”
“Helen, those are potatoes.”
“Then, I’m crying.”
I thought about that scene at least a dozen times this week. I found myself sitting at work with my palms pressed tightly to my eyes, fingers curled up over my forehead, buried into my hair, willing myself not to cry. What would I blame it on? White Out fumes? Allergies?
The kicker is that nothing particularly bad had happened that should make me cry. For whatever reason, I was just feeling…tender about life. Easily ruffled. Vulnerable. I felt like running away and hiding out under the covers while I waited for the world to get easier and kinder. But since that’s not exactly how things work, I toughed it out.
Sort of.
I smoked a few cigarettes, wrote a few (dozen) whiney emails and went to bed early every night. I drank Riesling from the bottle and cried at CNN. I paid bills and cleaned the bathtub and did those other things that I do to feel some sense of accomplishment. I watched mindless film and ate steak-cut French fries. I reacted badly to many, many things.
Emails, jokes, criticism.
By the end of my tender week, I had to apologize to him for being snarky. Over cubicle walls, I had to thank her for being my friend even when I’m crazy. Her reply brought a small lump to my throat.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” she asked. “I love you.”
I thanked her, took a deep breath and went back to my work. It seems that when tender strikes, it’s all onions on a cutting board. Everything turns into a reason to come apart — one flimsy excuse after another to cry, because maybe I just needed to.
Those are potatoes.
Then, I’m crying.
being pregnant is my ‘onions on a cutting board’…
it’s been so long now (going on eight months) that i’ve started to think that my potatoes really are onions…
i’m so done with being pregnant!!!
take care of yourself, lady.
Please don’t cry Fishy!
I don’t like this smoking thing, young lady.
P.S. I concede: you win.
You hit the nail on the head. Maybe it’s because we get so much practice (pms, pregancy, menopause) but us girls are pros at the tenderizing process. It’s not fun, but it makes us so much more tasty.
Oh, I had that week as well. Everything was my onion. How many calories were in my salad dressing, my chipping manicure, Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes….
Next week will be better! Smile!
Oh, Fish.
I know, I’ve been there. I always want to have a good reason too, but sometimes, it just doesn’t exist.
Sometimes, we all need to cry.
For the second time this week – seriously, are you fucking kidding me? I gots nuttin’ but nubs for ya Fishy.
BTW, you’re getting the shit end of the stick in this friendship. You listen to my deranged stories, give me sound advice and never, ever make me feel shitty about the bad choices I make on a daily basis.
And all you get from me are cigarettes, chocolate and stickers.
wow! what a lovely tribute from justine. just a sweet, sweet friendship. all grrrls should be so lucky.
Elequently put.
And, sometimes, cigarettes are the cure for your ailments.
Thank you, Camel Turkish Gold–for helping me through some rough patches of life.
I’ve felt that way this week, too. Nice to know it’s not just me.
Ahhhh … lumps in the throat hurt, good friends make it betta.
I think we’ve all been there.
Hope next week’s better for ya!
~Casey
Wow.
Just wow.
beautiful and so right on.
Man, so it’s catching huh? Sorry I sent it your way!
Only a week? Wait until perimenopause. Sometimes the mirror my onion.
I just go with it until it passes.
((hugs))
Wow, I had a week like that also. I have been a whiney mess for no apparent reason. I literally teared up watching “Coming to America” for the thousandth time and I can’t watch the news without breaking down.
Hormones, the weather, planets not aligned? Who the hell knows but I do sympathize with you!
Have a fun and save 4th.
I’m sorry. {{{hugs}}} I hate weeks like those.
I feel your chicksteria. A couple of weeks ago I was reduced to a sobbing puddle of tears by a stubbed toe and a mouldy lemon. I shudder to think what might have happened if I’d seen a kitten that looked sad….
Cigarettes help, as do hugs, naps, and midol.
Rock on Miss Fish.
pms
I remember Wings… I love that show.
That’s a great line, and I love how candid your blog is, is a poetic kinda way.
you have a great friend who is over the cubicle wall. that scene from Wings is terribly sad. there were some “potatoes” with me today…I’m glad though because it’s hard for me to keep my emotions inside for too long.
I think we all have one of those weeks from time to time…
here for you, even thoughthe blogosphere is kinda trivial. I’ve had those crying at CNN moments oh-to-often lately. It when I start bawling at toilet paper commercials that I hit the arapax.
Chin up Fishy (and buy take out, then someone else can chop the damn potatoes).
I had that week too. Must be something in the air.
Poor Fishy! I hate to tell ya hon, but hormones are the typical tenderizer for many a chica. During tendertimes I have in the past been reduced to a puddle (always in private if at all possible) when I heard a sappy love song… or any other non-reason. Gets worse in the mid to late thirties… but improves some in the mid to late fourties! When I was in my twenties, I thought all that talk about “raging hormones” was something made up by people in the pharma biz…. but then it happened to me!!! ACK! Being the scientist, I studied my own pattern…and it was totally in sync with the cycle. Sigh. The truth really bothered me. I thought I was immune. But knowledge is power… once you can predict you can warn those you care about.
Here’s a big cyber grrrl hug for you.
Its nice/re-refreshing to know that I’m not the only one who has to hit the mute button at a sappy Visa commercial. Thank You for sharing that “pumpkin in my throat” sensation. Seems women don’t have a monopoly on the feeling here but you sure are better at describing it.
PS–You’ve really got a great friend there in whurlygurly (among others I see).
I had a week like that. Unfortunately, I was at a conference and couldn’t hide the tears very easily.