About Crying in the Dark

I remember hearing the phrase “you’re built too close to water, lass” quite often when I was a little girl. “Quit crying about it already” was also in the mix and probably a lot of other subtle hints to the fact that big girls don’t cry and that I better toughen up.

Well, I did. Got myself some steel caps after all.

I used to think I don’t feel the same way other people do. Nothing touched me in the same fashion that it did others. Moving across the world without knowing anyone there? Easy. Grandparents dying? No tears. Mum diagnosed with cancer? 5 minutes – that is all the tears I had, and I am no exaggerating. Relationships failing? Just brush yourself off and get back in the ring. The same was true for positive feelings. Awe inspiring natural sights? Yeah, nice, but whatever. Someone offering you a connection with them? Thanks, but no, thanks. Laughing just for joy, no sarcasm, irony or slapstick comedy needed? I cannot recall an instance.

Books and movies, however, were an entirely different thing. They were my way of cheating the system I created. It is not my feeling I am crying about, it is the protagonist’s. It is not my joyfulness I am celebrating, it’s the protagonist’s. It is not my love for people I am feeling. Even a tough girl can cry and laugh for someone else, just not herself. I think that was my version of crying in the dark where no one can see.

Now with my feet cozy warm in Uggs, I am back where I started: close to the water. And just now, I realised what an achievement that is. I am feeling, acknowledging the feelings and expressing them, a lot more. Sad? Do have a good cry. Happy? Smile big and wildly. Being awed? Gawk and exclaim “Oh, how gorgeous” out loud.

Movies and books have become potent catalysators. They make me cry, a lot more than before even, but unlike before, I do not revel in the character’s plight. Instead, I ask myself why it is touching me. Just by holding still, letting the sobs continue without obstruction, judgment or thinking of a solution, the words to the feelings well up. So then I cry, for myself, for my own feelings. Out loud and sobbing. In the bright light.

I am incredibly proud of myself. I am on my way back to the girl that naturally felt and expressed herself. No more crying in the dark, the light is far more healing.