When was the last time you cried? - don't lie to me phaggit

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How long ago?

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A few days ago I started "crying" (it was mostly watery eyes) because I had too much schoolwork and couldn't get it done in time.

Having ADHD AND OCD fucking sucks. You wanna half-ass something but at the same time it has to be so perfect Donald Trump would cry tears of joy.
 
Less than a year is the most recent option? You all clearly aren't seeing enough hearwarming stories about animals or human kindness!
In seriousness though, someone I was aquainted with through mutual friends passed away last month and even though I only met the guy in person once it was really hard news. He was such a chill guy and it's rough losing people who are so young.
I learned about it the morning of one of my finals and had to get my shit together long enough to take the stupid test.
 
I don't keep track of my tears despite it being uncommon for me to cry these days. Pretty sure the last time I shed a tear for anything was my last rewatch of CLANNAD (sometime last year) because I'm a big baby when it comes to that anime.
 
The last time I had cried myself to the point of exhaustion was a couple years back. My grandparents were a huge part of my life. We knew my grandfather had cancer. However as he was being treated for it my grandmother ended up having it too. They both passed away five days apart from each other.
 
I think it was two weeks ago. My crying fits are so brief, often, and random that I tend to forget what they were about. And by cry I mean just a bit of eye watering. I was probably contemplating the fragility of life or being a beta.
 
I was in a ptsd support group and recalling the first time I saw somebody shot dead in front of me, when I was in grade school.
 
A few weeks ago I was constantly tearing up because of an eye infection.

That probably doesn't count, but I don't care.
 
A few days ago, thanks to a nasty migraine. I was literally weeping and screaming. A large cup of tea and two Excedrin nipped it in the bud before I slept for 4 hours.

But goddamn does it make you want to yank your head off.
 
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That part in I am Legend when he has to put down his dog.

Also: Fuck you, Marley and Me! *sob* fuck *sob* yooouu! You were supposed to be a light hearted comedy about dating and commitment!
 
About a month ago, my cat had to go to the vet because of some badly infected teeth. The vet winced as she examined him and offered to keep him for the night, so she could operate next morning as soon as possible. She informed us that before putting our cat under anesthesia, she would test him for feline leukemia and feline immunodeficiency virus. If the tests came up positive, she would call us so we could decide on what to do with him (read: euthanasia).

We left the clinic with an empty cage. We didn't get much sleep that night. I couldn't stop thinking about the fact that our cat might be put to sleep in a few hours, without even seeing us for the last time, and that my last memory of him would be his diseased mouth and his distressed meows as we left him.

Thankfully, everything went well, and our cat is as happy as he was before, even after having eight teeth removed.
 
I teared up about two weeks ago when I got my car back from the shop and was driving it back home for the first time in weeks.

-It's my first car, it brought freedom with it and I ended up being ridiculously attached to it as a result. Even if its parts are obsolete and the shop had to cannibalize a salvage for said parts.
 
Few weeks back. One of those, "Too much, can't cope" things. Lot of background shit already happening, and some more problems suddenly appeared and jumped on top of everything else.

I'd gone to visit a friend of mine who I'd lived with briefly, and who was an early stage hoarder. I'd gotten out of there as quickly as I could but we kept in touch. She'd broken up with her boyfriend, so I was worried that she'd gotten worse with depression, and of course she had. It was awful. There was rotten flowers everywhere in vases that were filled with putrid water, a pile of decaying fruit and vegetables with fresh stacked on top, the kitchen and fridges packed with so much food that you couldn't walk through or open any doors without it falling on you. The spare bedroom that she wanted to rent out again had begun to fill up with shit. Empty bottles and containers everywhere that she refuses to throw out.

We talked for a bit, but when she started talking about desperately she wanted a child and wished she had the money for IVF, I finally told her bluntly that she was far too ill and that she couldn't raise any child in that house. She's actually worked in childcare and has a decent amount of experience as a private nanny, but even with that she still can't see how fucking dangerous her house is to an adult, let alone a child. She shoved a heap of food in my hands- she'd been getting a fuckload of food from charities and eating none of it- and showed me the door. When I got home I was completely unsurprised to find that most of the food she'd given me was spoiled. I haven't heard from her since. She is so, so ill and I cannot help her, and her family will not help her.

The stack of mail I'd collected while I was there was four centimetres high and 85% of it was toll fines. I've declared bankruptcy recently because I've been out of work for over a year and it'd reached the point where I had no other options at all. But tolls and governmental fines aren't covered by bankruptcy in my state, so all in all I was looking at over two grand. And by then I'd reached the point where I was relying on charity myself just for food.

The house I'm in now is with two other women. Flatmate number one and I have just replaced our number three after some huge problems with her predecessor, but it's only been in the last week that we've found someone who'd be able to take her place.

Our old number three had told us when she moved in that she had Borderline Personality Disorder, and had so many strange guys coming and going all the time that made the house unsafe. Some of them were here often enough that I was able to see their faces, but many came here only once or twice. I have mild Prosopagnosia; I can remember someone's face if I see them often enough and for long enough, but it takes a hell of a long time for me to do it. And if I don't see someone for a while, I'll have to go through the entire process again. Flatmate number one and I were already convinced that she was taking money off at least some of those guys. A couple days before visiting my hoarder friend, there was a knock on the front door. And when I went to answer it, I saw a strange guy turning away as BDP motioned for him to follow her to her bedroom under the house. He turned back briefly to look at me, and there was so much hatred and contempt on his face that even I could see it. I was frightened.

I went outside to the clothesline. BPD hadn't shut her bedroom door. And she doesn't moderate her voice either. So I heard her telling the guy not to be nervous and I started pegging clothes faster, and then she starts squealing, "Oh my god, what's wrong with your dick? What's wrong with it? What's wrong with your dick, dude? It's tiny!" at that point I abandoned the rest of the washing and fled upstairs. I was so fucking terrified that this complete stranger who'd walked straight into our house and was most likely a paying customer, was going to turn violent very fast. I have a machete upstairs and I desperately wanted to take it downstairs and evict BPD's guest before she ended up in a puddle of her own blood, but there was absolutely nothing I could do until she ended up getting physically hurt. You can't just walk into someone's bedroom in broad daylight with a fucking machete because your housemate is talking loudly.

She's gone now and good riddance.

On top of all that one of my rats has sprouted lumps; mammary tumours are pretty common in does, and there's a fuckload of mammary tissue in the adorable baby making machines. I've an awesome vet who's been letting me pay off my bills by scrubbing out hospital cages, but for surgery I'd have to pay cash. I had enough money for the first surgery, but there'd be another and another and another unless her entire mammary tissue was surgically removed in one hit. And, since she is twenty two months old when the average lifespan of a domestic rat is eighteen months to twenty four months, I decided that even if I had the money for multiple surgeries it'd just be too cruel for a little old lady. Unfortunately, letting her go peacefully after I can no longer make her comfortable is going to have serious ramifications for my other girl. They are sisters and are bonded so strongly that even if I start introducing kittens into the cage straight away, I know that the remaining sister will leave as soon as her sibling is gone.

So yeah, incredibly mentally ill friend that I can't help and probably won't even talk to me again for long time yet, grinding debts, legitimate terror that there was going to be a violent murder in my own house and two ratties who aren't going to be with me much longer, on top of my already incredibly fucked up life that I've been trying desperately to fix for over a year and have gotten nowhere. So I cried.
 
Recently... About a month ago I think.

I think it's mostly due to stress from Uni. Not to mention that my mother keeps breathing down my neck, because my brother refuses to study. How it's my fault that he's lazy, I have no idea, but whatever, I'm there, she might as well yell at me right? And I know, I'm the idiot still living with my family, but I just don't have the funds to live on my own/with a roommate, since the pay is so low in my country no matter what you do, you are gonna have a really hard time, let alone if you are a fucking student.

It's a really stupid reason. I refuse to cry or vent at all, so all the stress, sadness and anger pile up until I explode. About a month ago, I was under a lot of stress and was beginning to crack - before I realized it, I had taken both an anxiety test and had been looking for a painless way to kill myself. It was the typical "I'm good for nothing", "I can't do anything right", "No one would give a fuck if I died, maybe their lives would be better" type of thinking. And then I got a message from a very dear person, telling me how much he loved me.

I just broke down. I think I cried for about half an hour, constantly yelling "Just why, why the fuck do you have to care so much, let me die!". I had to drink a bunch of pills after that to calm down and be able to go to sleep. This all probably sounds really selfish, and I'm sorry about that.
 
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