Right when I think I have it all pulled together, someone has to ask me “Are you okay?” And that’s when I unravel. For some reason those words, though probably meant to be kind, cause more grief and tears than the actual saddening/angering event itself. And it’s always strangers that start this “What’s wrong, are you okay?” business.
I was about to be fine.
Not to be insensitive or unfeeling, but honestly, the last thing I want when I’m about to cry is for someone to make a big deal of it. For instance, tonight I was at a banquet for my orchestra. After a rough day, getting lost, arriving late, being scolded, and finding that not one of my friends thought to set aside a seat for me, I was fit to burst right there in front of complete strangers at a dinner table. So after drying the inner corners of my eyes and taking a deep breath, I was on my way to composure. That is, until the woman across from me said– you guessed it– “Are you okay?” The mask I had just managed to reassemble was once more broken and the corners of my mouth wavered downward.
Well, not anymore.
Being an ugly crier doesn’t help being upset in public, either.
A few minutes after, I decided it was best I leave. I walked outside to the safety of my car, turned on music, sank low in my seat, and let out what I had been struggling to hold in. All because some woman felt concern for me and stuck her nose where it didn’t belong.
Compassionate people are going to be the death of me.