I'm Not A Pretty Crier, Either.

I'm sitting here in the cozy room with a fireplace and big, soft chairs at our local Starbucks. I have a tall, nonfat, decaf hazelnut latte to soothe my aching head, and cute husband sitting across the table typing away on his computer, his psychopathology book open next to him. I am relaxed and at peace now.

I am exhausted, though.

What a roller coaster of a day.

This morning, I got (another) election email from the family. This came after speaking with one of my aunts last night, commiserating over the judgment our family bestows on us (okay, me, she is WAY more covert in her political views than even me). Combine the two and it was just bad timing. [Um, and throw in some hormones.]

I never stand up for myself (see?). I have a passivity problem, but I just got tired of being silent and decided to speak up for myself. I carefully crafted an email to send my mom and dad:

"I respect you and your decisions, so could you please respect me? I am intelligent and well-informed. I care passionately about being civically engaged...I guess I just want to say that just because we don't agree doesn't make us bad people or have bad morals. I am informed and I have convictions just like you guys do."

After I sent it, I felt a huge relief. A weight had been lifted off my shoulders. I had been able to clearly communicate months of frustration and heartbreak. I hoped for an email affirming their love and respect for me. Telling me that, yes, there was more than one way to be a good person. That, of course, they knew I carefully considered things before making my decisions. Disagreeing doesn't mean we are irreconcilable.

Instead, I got a sarcastic and cruel email from my dad, reiterating again his own opinions. He ended his long email with "None of this means we don't love and respect you. We do. Love, Dad"

I was crushed. That one line did not can

Tears instantly welled up in my eyes and I quickly brushed them away and headed to the bathroom before I could really start to cry. I sat in the stall, willing the sobbing into controlled, silent tears. All I wanted was your respect, Dad. Not more debating and arguing.

After 15 minutes, I made it back to my desk. A wave of disappointment and rejection passed over me, and the tears sprung back. My roommate and coworker came over to ask me something, saw the telltale red-rimmed eyes and asked me those fateful words: "What's wrong?"

Cue sobbing into cardigan.

Gosh, I'm classy.

I begged her to pretend like I wasn't crying (public crying humiliates me) and we carried on our work conversation like I was barely squeaking out one word responses. She's a sweetheart for playing my "I'm not crying!" game.

I left work early and found the gorgeous fall day had been taken hostage by a harsh thunder storm. I changed out of my work clothes and went for a walk with my umbrella. I called my little sister, who experiences the same castigation from the family. I shared my day with her, and it was amazing to have my family support me. At least one person in my family who loves me and understands me just the way I am. Someone else who can love our family like crazy but be outraged over their ability to treat us with love and respect this election season.

Sisters are seriously a gift from up above, however corny that sounds.

As I wrote this, I got an email from my mom. It was much, much more gracious. She still debated me, but she included this, which made me so happy:

"I appreciate your candidness on this issue and I so respect your values in many, many ways and am so proud of the fact that you are civic minded. I hope you never feel you cannot be comfortable around your dad and I, that is very sad to think about."

In my very emotional state, I, of course, had a few fat tears rolling down my face. And now my suppressing-a-cry headache is pounding. Whew. Three public cries in one day. I am spent.

I beg you - regardless of your political persuasion, be respectful and loving to those who think differently than you. We need more love and more unity, not more cruelty and hate. You never now how much your words mean to another.

[In all of this, my little community on Twitter was the most supportive group of ladies ever. I received countless messages of support and consolation. It was so encouraging and just what I needed. Sometimes people poke fun at "online friends" and how they aren't "real," but I will tell you - your support and love felt very, very real to me today when I was struggling. So, thank you. You all continue to show me how great this online place is.]