Cry baby... It's my party, and I'll cry if I want to... Big girls don't cry... Tears of a clown... Don't cry for me Argentina.... Crying over you...
There are so many songs about crying and tears. Country western music
has broken hearts by the pickup truck-full. From the laid-flat classic,
"I've got tears in my ears from lying on my back in my bed while I cry
over you," to the GPS-specific, "Billy broke my heart at Walgreens and I
cried all the way to Sears," nothing beats country music for getting it
all out there.
But I'm no country western gal. I'm a fairly tough New Yorker --
tears were never high on my profile. Not since my father would send me
to my room -- "I can't talk to you when you're crying. Come back when
you've stopped" -- and I learned to put a plug in it. My friend Karen
told me her mother admonished with the ever popular: "Stop crying or
I'll really give you something to cry about." The message was loud and
clear: no whimpering.
Even PMS couldn't bring me to tears. I was suicidal, homicidal, many
-cidals, but I never cried. On rare occasions, like watching a sad
movie or listening to a sad song, they might leak down my cheeks, but
not for long. I'd convinced myself I'd never be a weepy person.
If there was a crisis, it was Robin to the rescue, Robin in charge.
No tears -- no time, too much to do -- just the facts, decisions,
We all know people who fall apart if they lose their favorite pen --
those are the drama queens and kings, who seem to always be in tears
about something. Then there are others who are barely affected by the
death of a parent. Let's put these groups aside and focus on the rest of
us -- the majority of us who, while not emotionally dead, prefer to
keep emotions in check, particularly when it comes to sadness.
I lost a lot a few years ago: my marriage, my job, my mother, my
daughter moved 3,000 miles away, I had to move, and then I lost my
beloved dog, Lola. I've written about it. I was sitting alone in my
apartment, minus everyone -- and I started to cry.
Then I couldn't stop. The floodgates opened. And I didn't care.
For many years, on those rare occasions when I cried, I'd get a
headache. But when the grief is so intense, the tears wash over and
seem to take out all the toxins and pain; at least that's my
non-scientific analysis. I felt lighter. No one loves the sound of a
baby crying, but once they're done crying, they look so peaceful, so
relieved -- or maybe that's the parents that are relieved, but it does
seem to be a part of the natural order of things.
So often in caregiving/grief groups I've attended (where my crying
looked more like bawling), I've heard many people share, "I don't want
to cry" or "I'm afraid to cry." I've also heard, "I don't feel like
crying," which is perfectly appropriate, but my experience with crying
has led me to love it. When I was younger, if someone cried in my
presence I felt awkward. Now I sit with them and just try to be there
in the privilege of that moment.
I spent years in therapy NOT crying, talking about antidepressants
and wanting whatever new one I'd heard of. "Don't you think I should
try Wellbutrin? What about Celexa? That sounds good." My therapist
would say, "Okay, if you want to. But I don't think you really need to."
Eventually I tried an antidepressant for a year or so, and it helped,
but I gained weight, and I couldn't feel much of anything, and I had no
sex drive, so I went off the medication and continued to search for a
newer, better drug.
I don't think I ever used more than a few tissues in many, many years in my therapist's office.
And then, my life fell apart and I used all the tissues. I sobbed
through entire deluges, while my lovely therapist, Mike, nodded and
smiled. "This is great, Robin, this is really good."
"This is probably going to turn out to be one of the best periods of your life."
Are you crazy? I'm drowning! I can't stop!
Eventually the river flowed to a stream. Slowly the tears trickled to a stop.
And in their place came:
And most of all: empathy... compassion... for everyone in the world
who is suffering. Everyone. I want to go to the Congo and stop the
fighting and the rape. I want to go to the Middle East and get people
to talk about their anger and their sorrow. I want people to wail their
pain and share it and not worry about how they look. I want people to
listen to each other instead of screaming and fighting.
In other cultures people weep together -- they believe in the power
of a good cry. Why aren't more of us angry about the state of this
country and the world? I don't know. I think maybe we're all trying
not to feel.
Tears on my pillow... tears in heaven.
Cry me a river. Let it wash me clean.