I’ll Give You Something To Cry About

I mean, come on!

Crying.  I don’t know if there is anything more important to a healthy human, other than maybe laughter.  Crying may more important because a real cry is harder to come by.  It is also something many of us avoid at all costs. 

It is a bodily function, like yawning or sneezing. Our biology tells our brain and our body that we need it.  Somewhere along the line it has become a sign of weakness and vulnerability.  That’s more patriarchal shit. It reminds me of cooking.  Cooking for money is supposedly a man’s job.  Cooking at home is a women’s job.  It makes no sense.  Crying, like, cooking, is for everyone.

I probably have one good one a year.  I tear up frequently. (Thanks, This Is Us) but it’s not a full cry.  I am an empathetic, emotional person and there is no shame in that.  I have pride that I am in touch that side of me. I’ve seen the alternative and it’s terrible. 

Crying is one of those things in our lives that you must endure to feel better.  It’s like vomiting.  I hate to throw up, but I know when it’s all over I will be better.  I hate to dissect emotional trauma or anxiety or difficult thoughts or shitty memories.  They are dirty, scary, and ugly.  I don’t ignore them. I work my way through it.  I’m far from brave, but I know what’s on the other side.  Just like crying.  I feel like I know a little bit more about myself after I’ve cried.  I know what I care about. I know what can set me off or hurt me.  It’s like a diagnostic test on your mind.  Holy shit I’m not over that, yet. Well, I didn’t even know that was a problem. Apparently, that’s on my mind now.

Movies, TV shows, and commercials can get me.  It’s only happened about five or six times, but when they hit…wowzers. I can’t detail them here because I fear I will set myself off again.  For real.  But I will say that scenes or images with young boys who are upset, lonely, or crying are devastating to me.  Amy showed me a video about a boy who was breaking down because he was being bullied (You know the one) and I was almost pissed at her that she put it in my head.  The trigger is that strong.  I hate it, but it gives me something.  It’s like an emotional workout. 

I don’t watch or view sad things.  I don’t read sad things.  I don’t watch the news.  Crying always come unexpectedly.

A few years ago, I heard a little boy across the street talking to his father.  I was checking my mail, and by the time I returned inside and closed the front door behind me I was sobbing.  It wasn’t the lonely little boy cry (Which is obviously about me as a little boy).  It was different.  Both of my sons had grown up and were moving on with their lives.  The little boy across the street probably reminded me of when my sons were small and craved my attention and were around me every day.  I just missed them.  I missed them as little guys, playing with lightsabers and Legos and asking me questions every ten minutes.  Crying about it began the process of letting go of that.  It still stings a bit (Plus, now my daughter is 18), but I am getting better as time goes on.

Thanks to crying.

It could have something to do with me getting along with women so well.  I have a lot of female friends and since women usually understand the benefits of crying better than men, there is a shorthand that exists.  I don’t hide my feelings and they don’t embarrass me.  I use the truth behind them to define who I am.  I use vulnerability to my advantage, too.  I’m probably funnier because I and more truthful about how I feel about…everything. It all stemmed from losing it, breaking down, and crying. All the tears and snot and everything.  As a teenager, I would cry about something and pass out for a nap.  I did that a few times.  When I awoke, I felt like a new person. I had a new perspective and it was real.  It wasn’t from a fortune cookie.  I felt it inside my chest. It was raw and pure and completely me. 

I mean, I really didn’t know what it was, but I knew it was mine.