All Hallow's Eve
Previous post
Now reading

Cry Me A River

Cry Me A River - What The Red Herring
Cry Me A River

My mom always told me I had a sensitive heart.

As a kid I was full of raw emotions and felt other people’s pain as my own. I cried freely when I saw others hurting and was easily moved.

The movie My Girl came out in 1991. I think I saw it the summer I was 12 or 13 – it was on VHS by then. *smile* I remember settling down in the living room of my grandma’s house to watch it one day with my cousins.

I don’t remember the specifics of the plot, but I do remember tears streaming from my eyes. One of my older cousins took notice. “Are you CRYING?!” she asked incredulously.

Until that moment it had never occurred to me that it wasn’t OK to cry when you were sad.

I never took THAT for granted again. Sheesh.

That is the last time I remember crying unashamedly.

This year I got myself a partner who decided to accept both of us as we were. And I determined to do the same thing.

So gradually, after almost 25 years of shoving it, with eruptions here and there caused by high pressure systems, the dam has started to break.

It feels like I’m crying all the time.

From anger, frustration, anxiety, hurt, loneliness, sadness, hopelessness. I don’t feel those feelings all the time, but these days, when the feelings pass through, they are much more likely to bring tears.

I remember as a kid what a release I felt after a really good cry. You know the sensation: heaving for breath, feeling like you’ve been poured out. I can’t remember the last time I had an experience like that. But I can tell that the freedom to feel is slowly coming back.

I’ve heard it said that you can’t selectively numb pain. When you numb pain, you also numb joy. I’ve found this rings true in my own life.

I’m learning how to let my feelings run their course, and if tears are involved, so be it.

Sometimes, I even cry with the lights on.

It’s kind of sad that something like that feels so daring. It’s a little harder to for me to accept myself when I’m puffy-eyed, red-faced, and vulnerable. But as the Chaplain said one recent evening as I sat with him in tears over a parenting mishap, “I accept you as you are. And I have my rain gear,” metaphorically speaking, at least.

I think he’s going to need it.

 

 

Written by