When I told Husband about yesterday’s bus drama, his response was, “I’m surprised you didn’t cry.” He wasn’t making fun of me. He was really surprised. I cry all. the. time.
I don’t think this is something a lot of people know about me. I can’t think of a faster way to lose credibility in court than to break into tears when your adorable, gunslinging 14-year-old client tells you he’s afraid to go to school because his older brother’s a gangbanger or when your client’s mom tells the judge point-blank, “I don’t want him; lock him up.” [These things happened on at least a weekly basis at the juvenile court I interned at this summer.]
The point is that I’m extremely sensitive, and cry a lot at home to make up for not being able to cry at work or on the bus. The last time I got on someone’s bad side and they took their anger out on me I was sad for days. Weeks, actually. Yesterday someone was a jerk to me and within the hour I’d completely forgotten about it. Not because I’m a better, more resilient person. I just had better things to do.
I’m completely immersed in a new case at work and my days are busy, stressful, and satisfying. Sometimes I look back longingly at the few months Husband and I had after our wedding to do absolutely nothing. I miss sleeping in and brunching and working out every day and site-seeing in Chicago. I don’t miss going crazy overthinking every little injury or slight. Sometimes I overanalyze my crazy coworkers and bosses, but mostly I don’t even have time for that. And, by and large, I’m a saner, more interesting person for it.