Somebody made me cry at work.
I should preface this by saying that I do sometimes cry at work.
Briefly, sadly, infrequently. When I'm watching somebody die and can't help but feel that this is tragic and too soon; when I see somebody watch somebody they love die, and even though it's really not too soon and this is the way it should be - it's still hard to watch loss and grief. Sometimes it's as simple as when somebody thanks me and I am so deeply aware of how unworthy I am.
These tears are stolen moments around the corner, in a bathroom cubicle or on the way out the door. They are private and tender and reflect something beautiful (and sometimes terrible) that I have seen or heard or experienced.
Today somebody was angry. And I suspect a little insecure and deeply worried. And they lashed out on me and no matter what I said or how I explained or tried to reassure them, they weren't interested. They felt better by yelling at me and I think somehow wanted to lash out and hurt me. It made them feel better. There was nothing I could do to make them feel better. Or me for that matter. Ever been dumped by a wave? Just swept up and turned over and drenched and a little frightened.
I don't do well with yelling. Or anger. Or rage. At heart I am actually a coward with few defenses and a chronic and consistent belief that it is my fault, so rage is not something that I can just walk away from and shrug off. And I found myself sobbing in a friend's office. Distraught. And now, although I have picked myself up and dusted myself off a little, and I am home, a place I have made safe and comfortable, I am dreading tomorrow. I don't want to see this person. I don't want to relive hearing the nasty implications, the cold words and that subtle yet purposeful intent to hurt me. I don't really feel strong enough to do that.
God give me strength. I'm going to need it.