This house is currently providing shelter for 23 students. Most are from America. We have a Canadian (well, an American who would rather claim Canada since he spent the latter half of his life there - lame), a Maldovan (he's going to be president of his country one day), a girl from the Netherlands, and an Australian (a positive and encouraging 'mate'). I live in a room with two other girls - Liz (NY) and Megs (Biola). We have the most spacious room with the largest windows and the best view. Don't get me wrong - I would be jealous if it wasn't mine. However, in regard to the subject at hand, it sucks. We often have people coming in, camping out and studying. Again, don't misunderstand, I love being around people; I love when they come in. But sometimes a girl just needs to cry.
I've tried the park. At least the people who see me cry there won't know me. But nope. We all know that life has proven and will ever be of the ironic nature that just when you don't want to run into someone you know, you surely will. It happened last week after my tutorial. I was in a state of turmoil about the soul of my tutor (I know, pretty dramatic...). Poor Logan. I have to give credit where credit is due though. He handled the situation pretty well.
A worse instance occurred not too long after the first. I'm convinced there's something transcendent about music. I don't care what scientists say about the way bass notes can strike some chemical reaction producing whatever emotion. I say, quit taking the romance out of life. Chemical reactions are a necessary part of life, of its beauty and its romance.
So, I was attempting to study and "Beyond Measure" by Jeremy Camp came on my ipod. It's not my favorite song in the world, but the lyrics, the time of day, the bass line - I couldn't hold back the tears. They were going to flow no matter how private a place I was in. I hadn't established a place to cry yet - heck, there isn't a place to be alone and cry in this house. The only option that came to mind was the 'small common room'. Praise God it was empty. I curled up on the couch, prayed the Lord would keep me safe from the random entrances of my friends looking for a quiet place to sit and read, and I cried. It wasn't long before I really gave in. Again, you girls will understand. I really cried. Shoulders moving up and down. Sniffling nose. Running mascare. At least he knocked. I had just enough time to quickly wipe my eyes before he stuck his head in. Poor Taylor. Again, both of them handled the situation well. It just sort of sucked for me. I mean, I don't mind if people see me cry. But sometimes you just don't want to be that vulnerable.
Crying is an essential part of my week. And if I can find time to just cry a little bit every other day or so, usually the 'torrents' don't come. Usually I can keep it quiet and subdued. But sometimes...well, all I have to say is, boys, if you are going to be living in a house with girls, be prepared. It's a good skill - knowing what to do when she begins to cry. Just keep in mind, it's probably not anything you said or did. If it is, what you said is probably only the straw. The camel's back is a lot stronger than you think. Give her some credit, and maybe ask her if she wants to talk. At the very least, don't write her off as too emotional. Our emotions usually run pretty deep, and they're normally rather profound.
