Emotions in motion

I'm often accused of being unemotional. And that's usually true. I can endure a family funeral and not shed a tear. And it's not because I didn't love them or that I'm the world's strongest person, but rather that I'm well versed in the art of control. I don't like for people to see me flustered. Heck, I don't even like to BE flustered. It does happen to me occasionally--alright, often--but I deal with it like any well-adjusted person: I either (a) run it off; or (b) lie in bed like a slug and ignore phone calls until I feel better.

My good pal Krista recently accused me of being Sue Sylvester from "Glee," who said, "While they were in there I had them remove my tear ducts. I wasn't using them."

Yeah, I'm not warm and fuzzy. I don't cry. I don't get emotional. My heart is made of tin.

But this weekend I found myself crying three times. Once while having lunch with my friend Becky on Friday, and twice on Saturday. Now granted, "Pomp and Circumstance" always makes me cry, so I tear up at commencement every single time (and that's at least twice a year). Then as I was working on my nephew's graduation video, looking at photos of him as a child and listening to "Find Your Wings," I bawled like a baby. For 30 minutes. Until my face swelled up.

What is this moisture falling from my eyes? I'm unfamiliar with that sensation.

Then today I found myself frustrated, apprehensive, and paranoid. Not to mention exhausted.

Before you ask, no, it's not my time of the month.

When did I turn into a girl? Next thing you know I'll be cooing at babies and hugging strangers with no regard to personal space.

Hopefully I can keep my emotions in check. At least until this Friday night, when Taylor graduates from high school. Uh oh. "Pomp and Circumstance" and my baby boy in a cap and gown? Get out your cameras, folks. This chick will sob. How much Kleenex can I stuff into a clutch?