Club Soda + Lime

Day 71: I cry.

I cry a lot.

Not necessarily because I am sad, mostly just emotional. It can be out of frustration, fear, joy, sadness, gratefulness; whatever the occasion calls for. If you need a crier, I’m your gal.

I have definitely been accused of being “too sensitive or emotional” or taking things “too personally”. I used to find these things faults, mainly because when the comments were directed at me, it was in a negative way.

But what are our lives if not personal? We have emotions and when they get to the top of our cup, sometimes they spill over in the form of tears. What’s so wrong with that? The alternative is to shove those feelings back, way deep down so when they are forced to come out when it’s way more destructive than a few little tears.

When you read it that way, which one sounds real stupid?

Crying basically comes down to vulnerability. A tear, or a full-on ugly cry, may represent weakness to the masses, or maybe even to a few of your loved ones, but it’s just honesty and authenticity.

While at work today, I ran in to a friend (of a friend of a friend of a friend…you get the idea) that cried. She was so frustrated about a chronic issue, she couldn’t hold it in (you don’t know this person, so don’t go trying to guess) and I just couldn’t let her cry alone.

I could see in her eyes and in her trembling body that she had been trying to be “strong” for so very long. In my eyes, this woman is a total beast; as a physical specimen, mother, professional, friend, wife, etc. And this is just the very little I know about her.

It looked like it just got to be too much.

I felt her pain and even though it was probably real awkward, I walked around the desk and made her give me a hug. I know what it’s like to be in chronic pain and how debilitating it can be to feel like you have no control over your body.

I couldn’t help but visualize the frustration overflowing from her cup. I think about how hard it must have been for her. How weak she must have felt because of the bullshit we put around this thing called “sensitive”.

But, in my eyes, it just made her human. And her humanity made her my hero. She was already sort of my hero, but she just donned her red cape today.

I catch myself often saying to my kids, “that’s nothing to cry about” or “stop crying”. What am I teaching them? That it’s better to push it down than let a natural, bodily function go?

Isn’t that like holding in a fart? The end result is basically the same…a lot of pain followed by a major explosion in a very inopportune place.

Think about that the next time you decide to hold a good cry in.

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