Thanks to popular culture and some psychological culture, people my age are led to believe that crying ought to be avoided. At least that’s the conclusion I’ve come to. Between the unnecessary attachment it’s given to weakness and instability, and that nagging closeness with a softer state, we’re led to believe we’re more complete people if we can keep it together.
I fully acknowledge that my homecoming to the UK is complete in saying the above. I feel really quite British all of a sudden. Stiff upper lip, etc, etc.
The truth is, I can say “we are led to believe…” and “society dictates…” all I want: but the truth of things is that I am fully culpable of placing such a restricting yet invisible set of laws on myself. Mostly because I think it’s a natural defence mechanism, and I’m here to tell you that it’s DANGER.
I went through considerable heartbreak/ache in my very early twenties that brought on the tsunami of all cry-fests. I cried- HARD. Really more of a wailing, if I’m honest. It was primal and it was exhausting and it felt one hundred percent involuntary. I cried so hard that I had to re-hydrate a few times in order to keep going. And I DIDN’T EVEN WANT TO KEEP GOING. When my body just couldn’t react any more, and my brain was finally able to take the driver’s seat, I resolved that this could not happen again- I never wanted to feel that badly, that out-of-control, or that subject to raw feeling ever again.
And I never cried again. The end.
Just kidding. But I really didn’t cry for years.
I have learned- just recently, in fact, that crying is great. It’s the moment when your body and your soul or spirit or whatever you want to call it switch sides and that unseen part of you gets to rule for a little while. This part of you doesn’t know the English (or any other) language, but its formation is pure and perfectly in sync with your purest form of self. I’m learning to embrace those moments when that logical brain boss part of me gets elbowed out of the way for a small second here and there. I’m learning to not resent these instances and instead find satisfaction in the fact that my inner self gets to breathe.
A sampling of things I’ve been known to cry over that, despite my aforementioned resolutions, bewilder me (because they are no excuse for brain-boss to vacate the driver’s seat):
- That movie Tangled.
- That movie High School Musical 3 (Gabriella goes to college early and Troy just wants to take her to prom).
- National Geographic landscapes (LANDSCAPES. I mean WHY).
- Celine Dion’s Call the Man (But I mean, it’s Celine- you can let me off the hook).
- That time I forgot my pin number and ran away from Sainsburys (mostly out of frustration that no one was in the drivers seat).
- That time I couldn’t match any of my shirts to a plain old regular pair of jeans because my brain was broken.