Dear Diary: Am I an ugly crier?

Tuesday, 17 March 2026

Dear Diary,

I cried in the open-plan library in front of one of Harry’s teachers during parent–teacher interviews last night. Yep. I did that.

Hyperventilating, drowning in my own tears on those tiny human chairs while Harry had to jump in and finish my sentences. I think my face even inverted like a nipple at one point - it was that ugly. And all of it had nothing to do with Harry and everything to do with me.

What the other parents and teachers must have thought as they looked over at our table…

“Look at that tiger parent over there - crying over her child’s grades. Tut tut.”

And the teacher herself! Oh dear God… (runs hands over face). And all she did was gently mention something about home life.

Teacher: “So how are studies going at home with Harry at the moment?”

Me across the table: “Good, he’s…” - tear-and-snot-plosion commenced.

Harry: “Umm… good?”

Urgh. I’m so embarrassed. Not to mention it must have been the oddest experience she’s ever had. I’m never showing my face at that school again.

What is wrong with me?

I’m not normally an outwardly emotional person. I try to stay upbeat, calm, and composed when life gets hard.

But apparently my eyeballs changed allegiance this week and are more than happy to open the floodgates at… absolutely nothing.

Twinged my back - cried.

Dropped $350 at the chemist on my “new” monthly meds - cried.

Dishwasher broke - cried.

Air conditioner crapped itself - cried.

Got both legs stuck in one pant leg - cried.

It’s been a week, I do admit. Everything is going wrong, and it’s all out of my control (yes, even the double-leg-in-one-pant thingy).

Normally I wouldn’t cry over stuff like this. I probably would have laughed it off and found a silver lining somewhere - yay, a new dishwasher! And at least it wasn’t the air conditioner… oh wait.

But instead, here I am, a total mess. And it’s hard. Hard for someone like me who usually knows and names what she feels, and likes to think she can navigate the hard stuff with some composure. Or at least keep her mouth closed.

Right now it feels like I’m losing control over everything happening to me, and it’s exhausting.

And all of this - the tears, the hyperventilating, the puckered face, the absurdity of it - it’s all because of this diseased boob.

Which I can’t even bear to look at.

I refuse to touch my breast now since the diagnosis, and I’ve even found myself literally telling it during bra changes that I hate it.

Because clearly I’m still sane - having conversations with a boob now.

Though, to be fair, I have talked to a few of those with legs in the past… 😉

For today

So for today, I’ll acknowledge the week that’s been. Tomorrow, I’ll try to be a little braver, a little steadier.

And maybe, just maybe, I’ll look back and laugh at how ridiculous it all was. Or at least manage a smirk without crying.

Bye for now,

Cloe xx

P.S. I’ll still bring tissues tomorrow - just in case. And maybe chocolate. Definitely chocolate.

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This blog is to allow me to write a little more about it along the way. Partly to keep friends and family updated, and partly because writing has always been how I make sense of things.

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