I don’t know what it is about now. Maybe it’s the fact that I’m starting to let go of so many things that ultimately aren’t important, maybe it’s the overwhelming fact that the economy is sinking faster than a turd in a toilet bowl, and maybe it’s seeing so many people lose their jobs, maybe it’s seeing all of the destruction and devastation around me caused by the fires here in Southern California, maybe I’m too busy to work that hard at it, or maybe I’m just tired and sick of holding it in. Sick of being tough. Sick of holding it together all the time (or making believe that I am). Sick of being in control (the irony being that, of course, I’m not).

Lately, my emotions are all right there, bubbling up to the surface like a cauldron of boiling liquid, splashing over the sides.

I was watching the news this weekend and started to cry when I heard all of the stories of loss. I got misty eyed at the stories of hope and rebuilding. I started weeping when my husband and I were discussing something about the house, and I started to cry into my dinner. A week ago, I was talking with a friend about blogging of all things and my eyes welled up. Again, at dinner.

It’s not a bad thing. I’m not depressed (not now). I’m not a mess (no more than usual). I’m not in need of emotional intervention. I’m just allowing myself for the first time in a very long time to let the walls down be emotional. To feel happy, feel sad, feel pissed off, feel, you know, meh. Feel absolute joy.

Most of the time, I play everything close to the vest. I hate, hate, hate to let my guard down. I hate to show emotion around anyone—even my poor husband, but it feels like a weakness to me. And I’m not just talking about the tears, I’m also talking about anger, frustration, joy, happiness and everything in between. I hold my tongue or swallow whatever is on my mind like a bitter pill that breaks up in my throat. (Which is SO NOT me if you knew me.) I used to let go and be goofy, dancing around the living room or in public. (Okay, maybe I should exhibit some self-control!) But you know what I mean. I’ve become RoboMo.

I try to remain in control at all times and as an extension of that, I try to control everyone and everything around me. I organize, I plan, I clean. I think things through from every angle and analyze everything. I stay in motion so I don’t have to think sometimes. Cleaning is therapy. More often than not, I burrow. I stay in my home and just try to be. These are not qualities that allow me to develop or maintain close relationships.

But it has just become too much damn work keeping everyone at arm’s length. And really, why should I?

So I’m not sure when or how or why it happened. Maybe it’s just too big of a load for one person to carry. Maybe it’s because it makes me feel lonely, fighting the big bad world all on my own. I can do it, I just don’t want to any more.

This morning on my way to work, I saw a woman skipping. Skipping! Okay, it’s L.A. so she was probably a wee bit crazy.

But maybe it wouldn’t kill me to tap into some of that and just let go.