I used to never cry, of course. Growing up I had only witnessed it at funerals, and even then it made me uncomfortable. It wasn't because I thought tears were a sign of weakness (being strong was never one of my concerns). Rather, it felt messy. Hectic. It lacked the calmness and control I had learned to associate with being safe.
Man, what I wouldn't give to travel back in time and tell my fifteen-year-old self that it is absolutely OK to cry. That the feeling she had mistaken for messiness was actually one of freedom and release.
Fortunately, I encountered many emotionally healthy and loving human beings since then, and the lesson I gathered was a simple but crucial one: When one is emotionally constipated, one must take an emotional dump.
Suppressing emotions is extremely gross and unhealthy. In the same way that our physical bodies are not meant to retain excrement and, therefore, have natural means of releasing it, our spiritual selves are not meant to suppress all the shit we so often mask behind false "okay-ness".
This sentiment is
I'm still learning how to let myself feel. And when I feel like it, I am learning how to cry. It is an incredible thing to be able to weep without feeling ashamed, needy, unstable, sensitive, and like I need to stop and apologize.
At times, I still resort to a cold beer or sad movie as some sort of "emotional laxative" to help the feelings channel outward rather than farther in. Vulnerability still scares me, a lot. Telling someone "No, I'm not okay" still feels selfish and wrong. As with all learning processes, this one is not without its flaws.
Nevertheless, the process is happening—thank God for that. Truly, I thank God for that.