No one likes crying.
It’s uncomfortable and humiliating, especially for those of us that are ugly-criers. The first time I heard the expression, “have a good cry”, I thought it was complete bullshit. Crying sucks. We spend a good deal of our lives learning to hold our emotions in, to fight back the tears, because public emotional displays are awkward and make everyone uncomfortable. (God forbid we be uncomfortable.)
The other day I was reading, late at night, and the scene I was on stirred up something inside me that hurt. A lot. I closed the book and lay there, staring into the dark, with a sharp ache in my chest and tears in my eyes. And then I gave in.
I cried and cried, just feeling the pain and the hurt and whatever else was buried in there, and I didn’t even attempt to wipe the warm tears that washed over my face and soaked into my pillow. I just experienced it. The ache in my chest grew and I felt the sharp stabbing in my stomach. I cried harder and harder, as all of these emotions that I didn’t really understand overcame me.
And then, after a while, I was done.
The aching didn’t consume me. I didn’t cry forever. It faded eventually, and I was just okay. Sad, emotionally worn, a little empty–but okay.
I dried the wetness on my face, picked my book back up, and continued reading until I fell asleep.
Sometimes it’s good just to feel.