Why I Don’t Cry
Or didn’t. Today’s tears were not the first. When I was little, perhaps 18 months old, because according to my Mum that’s when everything interesting happened to me, I was taught that crying was self-indulgent. It denied the spirit within me. It was ‘bad’. I was supposed to ‘pick off’ negative emotions and be rid of them.
I remember my little toddler tummy under a light blue cotton t-shirt, with Mum pretending to pick bits off me. Gives my body the shudders now.
Me not feeling that was quite right didn’t matter. I was supposed to be strong, to give to others, to never show what I was really feeling to anyone, to be more than that… to take the high road always. To be perfect.
I don’t watch TV really, but a friend recommended The Crown recently. I watched two episodes last night (that’s bingeing for me) and was hit in the gut by some striking similarities. I wasn’t raised to be royal or anything that dramatic, of course. I was raised in that English only-the-done-thing-not-in-the-front-room paradigm that the brits and pseudo-brits among you will recognize. Watching Elizabeth ‘be the crown’ and not the woman made me feel into some things I thought were complete.
I got to see the façade that had been built up by propriety and culture in a new light. It had gifts. It had drawbacks. It hurt and it helped.
I remembered my three-year-old self in my yellow blankie onesie with the feet, running, tripping and falling. I began to cry. Dad heard me from the other room and told me to “stop that”. I couldn’t. The faceplant into the big wooden rocking chair really hurt. Moments later, he walked into the room with a glass in his hand. Ice water hit me full in the face. “STOP… THAT!!”
Gasping, I did. The shock stopped everything. As the ice water soaked through my onesie, I wandered around the tiny room, feeling extremely foolish. I remember trying not to trip over the wet blanket that was now my fault. Weeping is humiliating, my body learned.
I didn’t cry again for decades. Not once. Not even a little bit.
I can’t now say that I’m sorry. I learned the warrior’s way in many ways and through many forms of training. Stoicism had its benefits. For a time.
One day, standing in the shower trying to cry, hands on the wall in front of me, I heard my Teacher’s voice. I’d been watching tear jerkers, anything, in order to free up the uncried tears from my body. His voice said “Ohhh… big bad black belt scared to wake up… waahhh.” The ‘wahmbulance’ film hadn’t been made yet. (The Kid, Disney studios) I’m sure I would’ve heard that, if it had. Of course it cracked me up and I couldn’t do the release work I’d been aiming for.
This morning I was in tears. That block cleared years ago, or so I thought. Today it wasn’t for some real or imagined hurt. Today my body said ‘enough’. Enough of pretending that this situation is ok. Enough of putting up with, instead of creating. Enough of what is left of the mask. There were students in the room. Unpardonable, this lapse of mine. Embarrassing to everyone present. Not proper. Certainly not ‘enlightened’. Enough. This morning the tears were real.
How do our bodies store things our awareness has moved beyond? That always amazes me, and the fact that the body goes on in spite of our mental and emotional carnage. I’ve told my healers over the years that I’m constantly amazed at how my body carries on with everything I’ve cleared from it. How could I have been walking around carrying all of that? They agree and we shake our heads together at this miracle of living.
Today was different. Tears from the heart. Tears for the me that had continued to pretend. Tears for she who has never pretended and for all she has endured. Tears for all of us who do that everyday. Tears for the light we fail to honor, first in ourselves, then in one another. Tears that ended in joy.
It is said there is a tear in the eye of the Buddha. The seed of compassion. I don’t know if that’s true. I know there were tears in mine. I know that today’s tears are real.
Call To Action
Thank you for taking the time to read this! If you would be so kind, ‘click my heart’ so others can read it too. I will feel your click. It will be honored.
