Anatomy of a breakdown

Soooo, let me be clear. I do NOT like to cry. Never have. It gives me a monster headache. I have friends who cry so pretty....the tears just flow down their face and they can still speak normally. I call it "soap opera crying"....the people on TV cry so pretty. Their noses don't turn red or run like a spigot. They don't scrunch up their face and put their head in their hands and wail. They can just let the tears flow and still look nice. Not me. When I cry, I CRY. I look horrible, my face turns red, I screw up my face and I cannot speak to save my soul. I cannot walk or move. I even tend to frighten people with how hard I cry. And obviously I have done a lot of crying these days, though I try to do it all by myself when no one else is around. So when I had a complete breakdown last month, I really freaked out my mother and my kids and Michele and her daughter who happened to be there with me.

It all began right before we were headed to Disneyland before Christmas. Just got my new, adorable puppy Sophie. The house was chaos with all the kids and grandkids there, spending the night because we were getting up super early to leave. I went in to take a shower and when I came out, I could not find the puppy. We called and called her. Nothing. Checked outside.....she was nowhere. We were loading the van and I figured she had probably slipped out when a door was open while getting stuff in the van. We looked everywhere, in every nook and cranny in that house. In closets, under furniture, you name it. Then we started looking outside. By this time I was exhausted already. It was late and I started to cry. Not just tears, I mean CRY. I called my friend Michele who I knew would understand why I was so upset and when she heard me on the phone she immediately said, "I'm coming over." She has known me since 7th grade and knew if I was this upset, she needed to be there. Sure enough 20 minutes later she showed up with her daughter Katie and helped me look for Sophie. I was still a mess. I also called my mom, who upon hearing my voice said the exact same thing as Michele and she is only 2 blocks away, so within minutes she was at my side. I even had Julie's boyfriend checking in the drainage ditches for Sophie, bless his heart. Julie was trying everything she could to comfort me, and she and the girls stayed up alllll night long going to Kinkos to make copies of a Lost Dog poster to put up all around the neighborhood. Finally around midnight I was exhausted and inconsolable. I collapsed on my bed and cried and cried and cried.....sobbing hysterically. I couldn't handle it. My mother was holding my hand saying it would be okay, they would find the dog. Michele was on the bed with me saying the same thing. The kids were out in the living room, obviously upset hearing me go on and on and on. Finally, the left me alone to cry it out. My grandson Tobin, was in the room with me. He is 9 years old , and looooves his gramma. I couldn't even stop with him in the room, cuz I knew I was going to upset him. But you know....he laid on the bed next to me and just stroked my head, then hugged me and patted my back and said, "I understand Gramma. You're just so sad". Of course that made me cry harder. Bless his sweet soul. He was the one who finally calmed me down. I only slept for about an hour that night. As I got up at 4:00am to get the rest of the gang up to go to Disneyland, who should appear at my feet but Sophie! Again, collapsing in tears I go show my family that the dog has returned. Where she was, I will never know. We looked EVERYWHERE for her. The monster headache was still pounding in my head, but I knew my prayers had been answered. My mother later told me she had never prayed harder in her life than for that dog to return. So why the HUGE meltdown over a dog? It wasn't just the dog, obviously. It was for loss. Loss of my precious precious husband. Loss of my lifestyle that I had always known. Loss of the word "wife". Loss of my father who died on Christmas 1974. This was the first vacation I had taken without my husband. The first Christmas without him. But then.....all was made well in a matter of seconds. Sophie returned. My optimism returned. My smile returned, as did all the kids smiles as well. We went and had a wonderful time. I still hate to cry. But I do think it was necessary. I got a lot out that night, as awful as it was. I don't want to cry that hard again. It physically hurts. But with my tears came a renewed sense of spirit. God is still in His heaven. Disneyland is still magical. The sun still shines. Life will go on, just not as I expected, but it will go on. I know Barry would want that, and I want that too. I just miss him. Always will.