I returned home from a date crying. He was lovely. It wasn't his fault. But there I was, exiting the subway station - crying. There I was, showering when I got home - crying. There I was, painting on the floor of my apartment - crying. I'd been crying for almost a year - I think - on and off.
Not like I cry now. And I still cry all the time. In fact I was getting all teary eyed right before sitting to write this. Why? Because I was watching Girlboss on Netflix (yep, Girlboss), and at the end of the episode, the main character discovered the name for her new business and was courageously starting her thing, and I was just so damn happy for her that tears formed in my eyes. My point being - I'm a crier.
I cry when I'm sad. I cry when I'm happy. I cry pretty much when I feel anything deeply, which is a lot of the time. I once had an ex write me about all the things he was grateful to me. On that list: "Thank you for showing me the sublime beauty of being quick to cry." And it's true. I welcome tears. I feel no shame in them. I'm wary when people tell me they never cry.
These days, I cry at least once a week and other people cry in front of me at least that often. I'm very well-adjusted to tears. I think tears are great.
But during that year in my life when I was crying on and off, the tears were all the same monotonous, incessant tears that only come with unappeasable grief. They weren't simply a reaction to living life and feeling all the joy and all the sadness with my whole being. They were blinding. I couldn't see beyond them. And I wanted them to stop.Read More