7 May
My mom could speak to my youngest years and how often I shed tears, but in my adult life, I know that I do not cry much.
I remember not crying when I led prayer services for the family and close friends of deceased members while in Dawson.  Sometimes, I even wanted to, or felt like I should.  But I don’t think I ever did.  I didn’t cry at the funerals that happened the next day, and can remain pretty emotionally strong while meeting with families and being with them in times of loss.  [Not that crying would be a sure sign of not being emotionally strong.]
Want to make me cry?  
Stress me out, give me too much to do, throw in a lack of Lindsay time, and it’s only a matter of minutes before the tear ducts burst.  
I remember on internship there were moments like this.  Moments right around Easter and VBS when I was incredibly stressed out.  I had taken on too many responsibilities or procrastinated so well that I was stuck and frustrated, both at myself and the situation.  Talk to me about it and my eyes would well up.  
When my coworkers could tell I was at my limit, they would ask what they could do to help.  Being ever the one to not give up control or let anyone down, I said I just needed to have a good cry and that would push me into the git-er-done mode.  They wouldn’t necessarily accept this as a good answer to their question, but time and again, it’s what happened.
I reached that point tonight.  I went to the CYF dinner, walked into the room where it was being held and realized I didn’t really know anyone who was there yet.  [There are distance learners and people that I just don’t come into contact with on a regular basis within the program, and whether I’m stressed and on the edge or not, walking into a room where I know no one strikes enough fear into me – unless I’m in pastor mode and know it needs to be done.  No pastor mode tonight.]  I could tell I had reached my limit with everything going on and that if I walked in any further, I’d start to cry.  Pathetic, right?  
Pathetic or not, I knew I just needed to step away for a moment.  I sat cross-legged on a couch in the hallway for a good ten minutes, checking Twitter on my phone, speaking very few words.  I regrouped myself and had a nice dinner at a table with people I knew.  [Call me snotty but that’s exactly what I needed – people I knew.]
I’m back at the computer now, working on my presentation.  I can hear your inner thoughts: “Lindsay, you’re not working on your presentation.  You’re blogging.”  True, wise grasshopper, true.  But truth is, typing all this out is a way to work through the current tears.  I feel better focused and ready to carry on.  Let’s git-er-done.
ps.  I realize it’s late notice but if you are at all intrigued to watch me present my thesis, you can stream the video of it here live.  9:30am.  You’re invited to watch me fall on my face rock it.  [My self-confidence still needs work.]

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