Between Fuzzy and Soggy

Cry, cry, cryFuzzy.

What the hell?

And soggy. Jesus Christ, what is SOGGY?

I grabbed my iPhone to see what time it was. 4:04am. Fuck my life.

The “fuzzy” turned out to be the sofa and the “soggy” turned out to be a drool-soaked throw pillow. I’d fallen asleep on the couch. And hell fire, I was out of it.

Saturday night was “date night” with myself. This generally translates into Erika + animals + Netflix = Awesome. Nothing I picked up in high school algebra, but a solid equation nonetheless. This past week, I dropped Marley & Me into the DVD player.

HUGE fucking mistake. Colossal.

I’d apparently cried myself to sleep.

Yes, I’m a girl. I cry. I cry at sappy movies. I cry when I laugh too hard. I’m famous for my laughter-induced bawling. Don’t get me wrong – I’m not a sobber, just add stiff breeze. I guess that Saturday night, I just needed to cry.

It’s not pretty. No one’s sexy when they wander into the bathroom and have a gander at their swollen, pinkish mug after they’ve let the tears roll. But I’ll argue that it’s essential.

Perhaps I’d fallen asleep on the sofa to avoid the bedroom. Maybe I hadn’t cried in awhile and needed the release. Whatever the hell brought me round to waking up amidst “fuzzy” and “soggy” on Sunday morning – it was essential.

I don’t know about you, but sometimes I just don’t know what I need. My head’s so far up my ass with the here and now that my needs elude me. I think the Universe is only willing to play along with our bullshit for so long until it issues you a shake-the-baby moment. Need finally ferrets its way out from underneath and then – cry havoc, let slip the dogs of war.

And you’re waking up between fuzzy and soggy.

Funny, though. I didn’t feel bad as the iPhone struck 4:04am. I felt lighter. Buoyant.

Bouncy-bouncy-bouncy-bouncy, fun-fun-fun-fun-fun.

Sunday was brilliant. Monday was even better. It kinda makes me want to cry again. With every tear shed, fifteen pounds of bullshit washed away from my soul. It just reminds me that we don’t really acknowledge how much we’re carrying around until we shed it. It’s the stuff of which yard sales and overweight baggage fees are made. You don’t really need it but you’re hell bent on keeping every ounce with you.

I say – just cry. Catharsis comes in many ways, but off all the options, crying is cheap and effective.

And the sofa’s pretty comfy.

11 comments
Colleen Clifford
Colleen Clifford

Never underestimate the power of a good cry. It washes out all the bits of frustration, disappointment and disgruntledness that accumulate on the soul. Sounds counterintuitive, but I think the world would be a happier place if everyone would indulge in a good old-fashioned sob-fest every now and then.

tmc @ Return to Rural
tmc @ Return to Rural

I read Marley & Me so there was no way I was going to see the movie. Still, I'm pretty sure we were on the same date except I'll neither confirm nor deny that I was watching Andy Richter Controls the Universe on DVD. I'm a WINNER! We inherited our couch from a friend. She specifically called it an excellent "napping couch." And she's been right. It's turned out to be so comfy that I can reliably expect my husband to fall asleep whilst watching tv, leaving the heavenly cloud of our king-sized bed entirely to me (and my dog). Thank you, ugly yellow couch.

nicoleantoinette
nicoleantoinette

I am having my shake-the-baby moment right this second - heinous tears and all. Here's hoping I am bouncy as fuck tomorrow. And the next day. And the days after that.(Oh, and fantastic blog, through and through.)

Lace_Queen_Rose
Lace_Queen_Rose

I COMPLETELY agree with you on this one. I have to cry every few days to let things out, especially when I don't or can't exercise as much as usual to get out the agression. Then one small thing pushes me over the edge and I'm sobbing like a baby. My mom usually takes the brunt of this, and is usually confused as to why one little thing set me off, but....you know, I just *have* to.

Christopher
Christopher

I actually got a little emotional too....BUT I have grown a little tired of most American movie's......and And especially Owen Wilson's straining to talk through his intentionally puckered mouth thingy he's got going on.....But I guess he makes up for it by not getting his broken nose fixed. It was OK but certainly not a Forrest Gump.

Cali Harris
Cali Harris

Oh my. I have a date with myself to bawl my eyes out sometime between now and Monday. I've got to put these things on my calendar, yknow? Great post; beautifully & honestly said.

Harlan
Harlan

I've been totally avoiding that movie -- I know it would bring back memories of every pet that passed away, along with memories of the deaths of cherished humans. I'm just not that strong. I can deal with wincing physical pain, but the emotional stuff brings me to my knees.I suppose it's the result of some terrible chauvinism, or maybe some long-latent survival gene; but nothing tugs at my heart strings more, than to see a woman cry. I saw my mother cry a total of three times when I was growing up, and once I brought on the tears by saying that I doubted she loved me. I've never forgiven myself for that last time.

Elisa Hebert
Elisa Hebert

Hear, hear. And here, here. Well said. 7 years of not crying had me emotionally paralyzed. Now I cry all the time - at anything and everything and sometimes nothing. It's WAY better.

skyddsdrake
skyddsdrake

Hear, hear. Really and truly, when it feels like nothing is going to solve things, a good cry gets it done. After that, I can clean up and ANYTHING is manageable.

crisatunity
crisatunity

Crying is always a release. A good cry let's us retain what matters and release what doesn't.

John
John

Fuzzy,,,happens all the time! Soggy, well that just you being comfortable in your own skin :)I find as I get older I am getting soggier. When my dog died and then the dog trainer died, I was a wreck for days.Comfort. It is a beautiful thing

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