Crying is underrated.

In America (and probably most of the western world), shedding tears is seen as weak, even if you’re a woman. Example: if you’re female and you cry in the office, management will think you can’t handle more responsibility (or even the job you have). Things have improved a bit for men, but the reason for the tears and the way in which they’re shed matters. “Manly” crying means weeping silently, shedding just a few tears and wiping them away quickly–and it should be because (a) your team just won the Super Bowl; (b) your dog just died; or (c) you just won the lottery. It’s okay to sob openly if a close relative or friend dies, but only in with other close friends or relatives. Otherwise (if you’re a guy), you’re expected to keep a poker face even if everyone around you is falling to pieces.

So anyway. I used to be a huge cryer when I was a little kid, because I was “oversensitive.” Later on, I was bullied in school because as an Aspie and a highly sensitive person (and I think most Aspies are also HSP’s though not necessarily the other way around) it was hard for me to hide my emotions the way the other kids could. At home, my narcissistic mother shamed me for my tears, and my father pulled out the old yardstick.

Sometime during high school, I finally toughened up–but there was only one problem. The lacrymal faucet had been turned to “Off” so tightly it got stuck. From that time on, the most I could hope for was a leaky faucet. When I did cry, it was usually from anger or frustration–and didn’t feel that cleansing. When I was sad I just became stony faced and sulked.

I didn’t mind seeing others cry, but I couldn’t do it myself anymore. I was too scared. Things haven’t changed much. The only time I feel like it’s “safe” to cry is vicariously, through other people’s tragedies or tender moments. I can go through an entire box of Kleenex at a sad or touching movie, and I tear up when I read a sad or tragic news story, especially if it involves an animal or a child. But if something happens to me? I get all depressed and quiet, and sometimes rage, but my eyes remain as dry as the Sahara.

Sometimes music can turn on the tears, but if I try to transfer the emotions stimulated by the music to my current situation, whatever it may be, I dry up and can’t do it.

Is it because I still fear ridicule or punishment, even though there’s no logical basis in reality to think that would happen anymore? Is it because I’m afraid if I start crying I might never stop? I really don’t know. Maybe it’s my PTSD. I’ve read people with PTSD become numb emotionally. And that’s where I’m at a lot of the time (though lately it’s getting better).

There’ve been a few isolated instances that always catch me by surprise where I went the whole nine yards–chest heaving with sobs, swollen eyes, snot running down my chin. But I could probably count those times on one hand, two at the most. Usually they happen in an inconvenient place, and by the time I get somewhere private the desire to bawl my eyes out is gone.

But I will tell you that when this has happened, I felt a lot better afterwards. Crying is Klonopin for the soul–it relaxes you and later it’s easier to think more clearly about the situation that brought on the tears.

I know a few people (mostly women) who say they cry every day–and I’m not talking about depressed people. These are people who laugh five times as much as they cry, and they’re usually a joy to be around. And their crying isn’t always brought on by sadness either. Sometimes they just cry because they’re so damned happy.

If you’re one of those people, you’re lucky. .
Me? I’ll probably get cancer and die prematurely from holding all that poison inside.

At least I know how to laugh–but I could use more of that in my life too.