Tears

I stopped taking Zoloft last year. The only problem is that now I feel anxious lots of the time. I don't know if it is because of that or just because I have gotten old. (AnnMarie told me, when I cried when I was telling her about Gay Sperry at the assisted living center, that it is just what women my age do.) However, I don't know many of the old women I work with on a weekly basis at the temple who are like this. I seem to cry at the least provocation. I have joined the tearful at church. I have some concerns about myself. 

Dr. Mark Jones, my local GP, said he did not think that those symptoms were worth taking medication because I am not really depressed. Nevertheless, Dad keeps telling me that I can just "be happy" if I choose to be. However, last night he said, that I needed to stop crying and if I took a pill it might help.

Things worry me. For example, we were supposed to watch Julie's kids just on Wednesday day so that she could go to Scout daycamp. We will also have AnnMarie's two youngest and will have David's three (he is going to a friend's wedding in ElPaso to be bestman. Bree is matron-of-honor. Julie is certain that something horrible will happen because I will not have enough control. Dad, she said, doesn't really tend kids well. So I cried. 

We have our temple devotional on Sunday but have decided that it is more important to be with David's kids who don't really like to go to church here anyway. I concurred with the decision but then I cried.

Providing Sacrament Meeting at the assisted living center is, in some ways, a joy. In other ways, it makes me cry. I see the folks I have worked with for so many years, dying by inches and, many of them, losing their identity. AnnMarie said that the their spirits are still there and they are but they have no memory and I wonder how they even manage to keep breathing. Yet, a few can still sing all the words to the hymns (we help them find the pages because it makes them happy but they do not read the words).

I also know that I will die in the next few years. I just will. So will Dad. I tease that I have 30-years worth of projects ahead but I do not have that long to live. I love being alive. I like being with grandkids and watching, even from afar, as they succeed. If Dad goes first, I wonder how brave I can be. I really don't enjoy being alone. At one time, it didn't bother me to have alone time. Now I usually go find where he is.

I love working at the temple. I work with great people with strong testimonies. I get teary-eyed there, as well. We are doing the Adam and Eve part quite often because everyone knows that we will be moving to Payson Temple, and maybe they won't even need us as workers. If they do, we will not get to do those parts ever again. That makes me cry. 

I wonder, also, what I have done with my life. I seem to have spent it, somehow. I am like Garth, "Have I been good enough?" Sometimes I have not been.

I cry when I am happy. I cry when I am proud of my loved ones. I cry when I am spiritual. I cry when I am sentimental. I cry when I am worried. I cry when I am angry. I cry when I am sick. I cry when I am sad. I cry.

So there you have it, I just cry a lot.