I don’t cry at funerals. In fact, I had to hang up the phone when the nursing home called to tell us my grandmother had passed away because she’d choked on a chicken bone. True Story. I think she may be related to Mama Cass. (If you have to Google that reference, you just lost the game.) I didn’t cry at my other grandmother’s funeral either. It was probably because I was trying to avoid one of the funeral directors from hitting on me. He actually ended up at my church one night and asked me out. Strange.
I do, however, cry at commercials and those stupid videos where the soldiers are reunited with their dogs after a long deployment. Recently, at a movie they showed a gum commercial where the dad made origami swans for the daughter throughout her life and she saved them. When he was helping her pack for college he knocks the box over and they all tumble out. I was searching for napkins at the bottom of my purse. I’m talking snotty faced crying. Yuck.
I sit in church and feel what I choose to believe is the spirit of God and I’m moved. I love how sometimes this great wave of emotion will just swell from the voices singing old hymns. I’m old school when it comes to church. I still dress up and refuse to wear jeans to church. It’s not me being a show off. It’s just that I’ve always felt you bring your best to God’s house. I know this hard to swallow given the nature of my blog. I’ve never professed to be better than anyone and I’m well aware of my flaws and how my attitude is a reflection of what’s inside me. Most people who have issues with Christianity think the people who say they are christians are the worst kind of people to be around. Sometimes, that is true. People can be awful and they like to pretend they are Holy. I don’t pretend to be anything, but me. Really, that’s a whole different post altogether. Another day.
I dislike Christmas. There, I said it. I hate the crowds. I hate the way it makes me feel and act. I actually don’t like any holidays. It’s because I’m selfish and I don’t think about these things until it’s the last minute. I forget birthdays and mother’s day and father’s day. It’s awful. I suck at gift giving. I never know what people want because I rarely take the time to really listen. To this day, my husband will tell me to grab him something for dinner on my way home. I ask what he wants because I couldn’t tell you what he’d order. I don’t mean to be inattentive, I just am.
I struggle with empathy. I struggle with a great deal many things, but mostly empathy. I was working in the financial aid office at a college. A student came in who had not finished filling out the required paperwork for Federal Aid. In order to get the aid to pay for classes you had several forms to fill out online. It would take days after before they would place the funds in your account. It wasn’t our rule. It was a federal rule. It was also clearly stated online and in follow-up emails to the student that they MUST follow-up with the office and not to assume the process was complete. Well, this girl came into the office crying that her aid wasn’t showing up and her mom or dad or whoever had died after a long battle with whatever disease they had….I had enough. I interrupted because she was giving me useless information. I needed her name, her social, something to determine what she needed to complete. She was wasting my time. I was heartless when I asked for her name. She stopped talking and thankfully stopped crying. When she left, the psychology major who worked in the office with me gave me this look. She was all, “that wasn’t very nice. You could have let her talk. You’re mean.” She said this with every ounce of snarkiness she could muster because she was military and she actually found it funny that I was so heartless. (wow, 2 Kanye references…I need an intervention.)
I laughed when my ex-husband was diagnosed with a personality disorder with narcissistic tendencies. I just read the list of characteristics and I’m not laughing as much now. Perhaps, two narcissists don’t make a marriage work.
Oh, and I’m a slob. Well, not in the sense that someone could sign me up for hoarders or messy house. I just am less motivated to clean the dirty kitchen and laundry than I am to buy new dishes and clothes and just throw out the mess. So, how many of the deadly sins am I committing? Just please, no one send Brad Pitt to save me. I don’t like him at all.