Tag Archives: Crying

Crying Can Be Easy

13 Apr

A few months ago I cried in front of a guy. It was after I learned how to cry properly so I did it. I just let the tears fall down my face. I didn’t will them not to come and end up with a horrible headache, I just allowed them to be. 

He saw them and asked if he could wipe them away. 

No. They’re mine. I put them there.

I’m sure that at the time I just didn’t want to be touched but the words fell out. And saying it, I felt it, I took another step towards being unembarrassed about being a person who cries sometimes.

He said it was the saddest and most beautiful thing he’d ever heard.

Which I suppose was a nice byproduct.

It happened again tonight, I cried in front of someone. In public, on a train. I didn’t wipe any of it away, I just looked straight forward and relaxed the muscles in my face and let tears come out of my eyes.

I didn’t even really notice how it felt in my eyes. I was distracted by the way it felt on my cheeks. Like some sort of upended water torture, relaxing instead of… torture. A tear tracking it’s way from my eye to my lip, coaxing me to form words. A tiny droplet, my eye telling me to open up my mouth and do something about the problem.

I couldn’t help but think of that line from Assassins. 

I did it so I’d know where I was coming from. So I’d have some place to come from, some place to go.

I left the little salty track as a reminder of where the feeling had come from and where I had to go.

I Don’t Want To Be Around This Face Either

25 Aug

A few weeks ago I was working a new job. Everyone around me was really experienced and whether or not it was actually true I was really self conscious that they were judging me, hating me. They were used to working with people who were veterans at this and I was slowing things down.

I don’t like doing things that I don’t feel I can conquer immediately.

But too bad for me.

The guy who was in charge of training me was so accommodating. Sitting right next to me and answering my every question no matter how inane.

I’ll never forget the day I turned to him with tears in my eyes. Facing away from the rest of the group so only he could see. His face melted. “Ok, I know that my face is doing this thing right now but it’s just my face. Ignore it and tell me that this is actually going just fine and I need to relax and just do the job. I know that the fact that I’m crying is written on my face but just ignore it and it’ll go away. It isn’t real.”

And when he ignored the thing my face was doing, it went away. And my gratitude at having him in that situation was immense. For all the things I appreciate about him, that moment was one of my favorites.

Plus, it helped me feel better.

Don’t Forget To Notice, But Also Please Don’t Notice

18 Aug

There are two feelings that I don’t even know how to describe. They’re the equal and opposite and they both make me cry.

There’s nothing worse than looking into your friends eye in excruciating pain and having them look right through it, unseeing.

“look
i get that you’re tired
and that this sometimes happens
what, like 3, 4 times a week?
and i know that you are thinking
i’ll be fine in the morning like, i won’t DIE fine
but the thing is
there is a part of me
that falls deeper into itself
each time my crying lulls
someone i am sharing a bed with to sleep.

sure
i’ll wake up the next morning alive
but is it really a good thing
to get better at crying
softly?

i’m not saying you’re obliged to do anything
not even whisper “i’m here for you”
or “are you ok?”
or “i’m sorry but i’m very tired”
or “goodnight”
i know you’re tired (of me)

but hey
if you hear me beating myself up next to you
and choose to ignore me and go to sleep
well, can you really be surprised
when you are awake and ready to listen
and my first instinct is to
hide?”

if you want to know why i’m always quiet when breaking down, lora mathis (18/30)[x]

And yet what always freaks me out more is when they look at you and immediately know,

“What’s wrong?”

Fastest way to bring tears to my eyes.

It’s A Sad Song But We Sing It Anyway

17 Jun

I used to think of myself as a pretty tough nut to crack, tear wise at least.

I took pride in not being the girl who cried at movies or weddings or funerals. A good stoic New Yorker.

And then when that started to fall away I took it as a sign of PMS. I have lots of friends who have a major crying jag, a consistent 48 hour count down to blood.

But now I’m coming around to my new reality. I could be convinced to cry at just about anything. A commercial, a dress, a song, a mountain, an impending confrontation.

I’m not gonna say that it’s better or worse, but it is a lot easier than I thought it would be.

The difference was realizing that it doesn’t have to derail my day. If you learn to not mind crying then you can do it and just… finish. And then feel better.

And it’s kinda like finally vomiting when you’ve been feeling nauseous all day. A relief.

I was thinking sad thoughts the other day and I played a song I love, a song that described the relationship for me. A sad song.

My friend said “You should be nicer to yourself.” but the truth is that I spend so much time coping with sadness using distraction that focusing on it, being sad about it feels like a luxury sometimes.

Crying keeps the sadness at bay.

The Power Of Your Tears

24 Aug

How to Look Like You Weren’t Just Crying in Less Than Five Minutes

At thanksgiving this year it’ll be 4 years since my dad died. A lot of things in my life have gone better and worse in that time. Even though I feel like everything I write here about him is sad I actually feel pretty good about where and when he left us.

This is the only way he would have ever seen any of the shows I’ve worked on and been proud of.

It isn’t great but there are silver linings.

And one of those silver linings is that in the last four years I’ve finally learned how to cry properly. Don’t get me wrong, I cried before he died, I’m sure, probably, I must have.

But now I’ve learned how to (‘enjoy’ is the wrong word) appreciate it, experience it in a transitory way, not get mired down in it, use it as a cathartic release.

Before he died I hated crying, I resented the mere fact of it and anyone who I caught being so weak as to do it. I resented any time that I would be subjected to it by my own self (or anyone else for that matter). I would scrunch up my face and hold my breath, I would immediately have a massive headache from my meager and herculean attempts to thwart the inevitable. I would need a nap or be forced to walk around the rest of the day feeling completely spent and useless, volatile, a power plant permanently stuck at the moment before the meltdown.

Now I just do it. In my living room, on the subway, in Times Square, wherever I happen to be reading a book. And then it’s done. I almost take pride in how a puppy food commercial can leave me with a pretty little pearl down my cheek.

I had to learn that crying doesn’t make you lesser because the tears made their way out. It isn’t a trick designed to leave you depleted. It’s a thing you can use to your advantage. You can use this thing to feel better, the way that doctors advise masturbation as an aide for menstrual cramps.

Lean into it.