Calm, cool, collected? Nope. Cracking, crumbling, collapsing. I'm a crybaby

Posted Jan 12, 2012 By Sarah Crosbie

EMC Lifestyle - When I was laid off three years ago, I did the one thing I always swore I would never do at work: I cried.

I was a female manager in a sea of men and I'd always tried to live up to my mother's Three Cs of Life: Calm. Cool. Collected.

But, standing in my manager's office, being forced to hand over my swipe card, I went from sophisticated boss lady to crying girl.

My lower lip started to quiver. My voice started to shake. And, within seconds, I had tears rolling down my cheeks.

I'd sucked it up by the time I got back to my desk to start packing up a decade of work, but as soon as someone said, "Are you OK?" I lost it. I started crying again.

I was ticked off I'd lost my job, but almost more ticked off that I behaved like such a girl. When's the last time you saw a male colleague cry at work?

There's a great scene in the 2007 George Clooney legal thriller flick Michael Clayton. Actress Tilda Swinton plays take-no-crap, ball-breaker lawyer Karen Crowder. She's tough. She's heartless. She's made of stone - until she's pushed too far, too hard, and then she has a major meltdown in a bathroom stall. But that was behind a closed door - in private.

Then there's Samantha Jones in the TV show Sex and the City. The fierce and wickedly independent woman tries to make an escape after an incredibly crappy job interview, where a man says he's not going to hire her - basically because she's a sexual woman. Samantha barks back, screams hypocrisy, and then bolts. She manages to hold in the tears until she's behind closed elevator doors. And then, she sobs.

I had my own Karen/Samantha moment a few weeks ago. I'm living in Stressville for the next few months. My husband is writing a book on the Shafia honour-killing case. His deadline is in a few months. It's a dark story that's always with us.

And I have my own life changes coming ...

And. And. And.

And then I had "a thing" with a friend at work.

And just like three years ago, I found myself sobbing.

By the time I got out of the building and found refuge in my car, I was crying even harder. Now I was crying for the original reason and crying because I was so mad at myself for crying.

If you saw me driving home that day, I was hitting my steering wheel and swearing at myself.

The next day, I basically spilled my guts to every girlfriend I have that I'd bawled like a baby - and how I felt so stupid. And weak.

A good friend said something that made me feel better: "Maybe if more men cried at work - or at least showed some emotion - work would be a better place for everyone."

I hold things in for a long time and then I reach a breaking point - and I break.

I still hate that I cried. But I'm pretty confident that it will happen again.

When women cry at work does it make us appear weak?

Or - let me go back to my sociology/women studies days at Queen's University - is this just a male-created construct designed to make me feel weak since, ultimately, women are stronger and men know it so our patriarchal world must continue to perpetuate the idea that women who cry at work are weak so that men can get through their day, thinking they're stronger.

Yeah, I like that.

Brings a tear to my eye, actually.

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Sarah Crosbie can be heard weekdays on K-Rock 105.7 starting at 5:30 a.m. and found at sarahcrosbie.com

scrosbie@theemc.ca