I'm a squishy rock. Of course, you may be wondering what that means, but I'll explain.
The other day, I was talking to my daughter, son-in-law and hubby when the subject arose and I said, "I'm a rock." My daughter and husband chuckled, then my daughter said, "No, Mama, you're squishy." So, I said, "No, I'm a squishy rock" and we all laughed. We needed it too.
You see, when needed, I actually can be a rock. You know - the person everyone relies on to be strong and maintain the exterior calm needed in stressful situations. That's me. I've had to do it quite a lot in my lifetime. One day, I watched a co-worker have a car accident, followed her to the hospital after talking to the responding firemen and police officers, then helped keep her mom, fiancé and future mother-in-law calm until my co-worker was released from the ER to go home. All the while, I maintained an exterior calm that even impressed me. Rock.
Then there's the squishy me - that other part of me that absolutely bawls at even the most inane things. For example, fictional TV shows with emotional scenes. I'm sitting quietly on the sofa watching TV with tears running down my face, nose running and trying to keep it together, at least a little. Add a glass or two of wine and I'm literally sobbing. Imagine this with the movie, Forest Gump. Yep - sobbing. It can happen at odd times too - like driving down the road and a song triggers a memory that turns me into the squishy me. It happens. Squishy.
So, the next time you manage to maintain that exterior calm then go home and fall apart, just remember - you're a squishy rock.
What's your squishy rock story?
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