Exceptional

When I was in high school, I remember thinking, with typical self-absorbed angst, that my life would be so much better if I was REALLY good at something. If only I was the prettiest girl, or the smartest student, or the best athlete, or the coolest kid. Instead, I was just okay, at everything. No, I wasn't the prettiest, but I wasn't ugly. I wasn't the smartest, but I was in the top half of my class. Wasn't the best athlete, but I made all the varsity teams. Far from the coolest, but I wasn't a dork, either. Just so fucking average, in every way. I really envied those kids who had something to define themselves with, who were stand-outs. (Truth is, I was far too lazy to do the kind of work that might have made me a stand out, but my teenage brain just blamed the rotten luck to have been born without some god-given talent.)

Last night, I watched the season finale of Grey's Anatomy that the capricious TiVo gods had generously taped for me after all. I cried and cried and cried some more. I shook with sobs. I could not catch a breath, I was that upset. You know, because a fictional character on a television show died during sweeps. Shocking.

But here's the thing: that's not really why I was crying. And when I finally figured that out, I realized that there IS something that I'm exceptional at. I can be a stand-out, just watch me.

Turns out, I'm really, really good at saying "I'm fine!" "It's okay!" The smiling shrug, the soldiering on, the "don't worry about me"s--these are things I've got down pat. And it's not as if I'm in denial--because I'm also quite adept at platitudes like: "yes, it sucks, but I try to look at the bright side" or "I know it's going to be difficult for him, but it could be so much worse".

What I'm NOT good at? Crying in front of people I love--or, people I don't love! Or people I don't know! Here, take my screaming child and cut him up, he's all yours. I am a rock, I don't cry! Whee, this is fun! Definitely NOT good at saying "Guess what? I'm terrified, and I don't care if it makes you uncomfortable, because this is what I feel like and you are not making me feel better by telling me that everything's going to be alright. In fact, you don't know what THE FUCK you are talking about."

Much better at saying " Thank you so much, I actually feel okay about it now. What's going on with you?"

So last night, when Denny died, I lost. my. shit. I cried because it does suck that Isaac is sick. I cried because handing him over to the surgeon last week while he begged me not to through hot tears killed a part of my soul that I will never get back. I cried because I am terrified of what the future will bring us, terrified that this will not work, terrified that even if everything goes exactly right it is still going to be REALLY, REALLY hard in ten years or so, and I don't know if I have what it takes to get through that. Cried because he is my son, and I want to make things easy for him, and I can't. This is hard, dammit. Hard now, hard later, hard for the rest of his life.

And it doesn't really matter that it could be so much worse. Yes, it could. Yes, Isaac is fine, Isaac is not going to die, I am okay, we are all okay. That is true. But the feelings I have about the whole situation--the whole shitty, un-fair, craptacular situation--those feelings are valid, and real, and they have to go somewhere.

I suppose it's a good a place as any for them to go to the television.


Tomorrow, when I read this, I will be embarrassed at my dramatics, and probably delete the whole ridiculous post.