Cry baby

For everyone who is/was/might-be/I-have-no-idea-what-you’re-talking-about-but-I’m-now-kinda concerned about that current state of Clayton’s leg, we have good news! After kicking a wooden staircase in what can only be described as a fit of joy, we were pretty certain his leg was broken (okay, I was pretty certain. But I don’t have a medical degree, so how am I supposed to know for sure?). We finally took him to a doctor and did the whole x-ray thang, and thankfully his bones are fully in tact. However, his leg is swollen and heavily bruised from a nasty case of hematoma which we discovered is hilaaaaarrrrrrrrrrrious to say with a Minnesotan accent.


I’ve cried like 15 times this week. If that makes me sound like a bloated, PMS-ing woman who just found out the caloric value of a Snickers bar, you’d be mostly right. But I’ve had an excess of tear shedding for reasons in addition to my rowdy vagina.

And crying is not a cute look for me. I’ve never been a tear gusher à la Demi Moore in Ghost with a few ethereal tears brimming in my eyes that make onlookers stop and say, “Wow, her suffering is so beautiful! I bet we could bottle her tears and nourish a garden of wild roses.”

Oh no, when I cry, I look more like this:

Onlookers are more apt to saying, “I don’t know whether to grab her a tissue or some toilet paper …”

Last night I had the absolute worst dream I have ever had in the entire 8,969 days I have been alive, and I’ve had some pretty horrific dreams before. Previously, my worst dreams have involved my teeth falling out or trying to talk to people who have wronged me, but no matter how loud I scream at them, they pretend like they’re not listening. But last night’s dream was the pièce de résistance for night terrors.

Inexplicably, both of my parents died.

“Come on, Courtney. You want to talk about scary dreams? I once dreamt I was running down the street naked as the Terminator was chasing me with finger puppets.”

But you have to level with me. Dreaming about death is not totally uncommon by any stretch of the mind, but I’m telling you, this dream was traumatic. It’s the first time I woke up and immediately started sobbing, even though I already had the fortune of realizing it was just a dream and it didn’t really happen.

The dream started out, oddly enough, in dolphin tank. It was awesome. I was swimming around with Flipper, having a blast holding my breath underwater for hours at a time, when suddenly I was at the mall talking to my mom. I have no idea what we were doing at the mall, especially after I was clearly having the time of my life swimming with aquatic mammals. After talking to my mom for a second I turned around to see my dad lying in a coffin … my dead father lying in a coffin.

I went completely nanners at the mall. I started screaming a scream I didn’t know I could even scream. I collapsed on the floor clutching my chest trying to get air into my lungs, but I could not stop sobbing. It hurt. I remember the physical hurt of trying to breathe.

Everything I never said to my dad and everything we never shared as father and daughter ran through my mind as I started down at him. I remember wanting to hug him so bad because I couldn’t remember what he felt like. Then I remember wanting to die, too.

At my father’s funeral I went up to the casket to pay my final respects. I turned around to survey the room for my sister, but when I turned back to look at him for a final time, the casket lid was closed and sitting on top of it was a picture of my mother. A priest came up to light a candle and said to me, “I’m so sorry for the loss of your mother”. Instantly I was on the ground, sobbing and screaming, and aching for breath all over again.

My eyes flew open, I sat up in bed, and started bawling … snot rockets and everything. My rustling finally stirred Clayton who asked me what was wrong. I just told him I had a bad dream, but I wouldn’t tell him what it was about. I was afraid if I talked about it out loud, I dream it all over again once I fell back asleep.


“I might buy a small diaper for your chin, because it looks like a baby's ass.”

There, I ended on a Glee quote.


  1. The "Glee" quote makes it better!

    No, seriously -- that dream sucks. I've had many a night terror involving the loss of family members, too, and they're completely traumatic. Years ago, I dreamed my dad passed away, woke up sobbing and then tip-toed down to my parents' room to peek at him. Might have gotten close to see if he was breathing, too. Check and check.

  2. Crying is healthy and necessary. You are getting healthier by the moment this week! Pretty sure crying the ugly cry is also necessary and probably cleanses your soul.

    Thanks for stopping by my blog!


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