*Trigger warning: Suicide*
I don’t remember crying a lot when I was younger. I mean, I know I made a ruckus at times but I also remember being grateful that I didn’t cry when angry like my sister did. I always felt terrible for her because my dad thought tears were used for manipulation but I knew she couldn’t help it.
In college I had to give away a dog. I had her for a few months but she just was not cut out for apartment life. I didn’t feel like the family that took her was the best for her and so my boyfriend and I came back to his apartment after dropping her off and I cried for HOURS. I just wailed and he let me. He held me and let me cry and eventually he told me it was time to stop.
But I don’t remember it happening much after that. There were breakups and assaults, arrests and deaths, Columbine and 9/11. I know I cried sometimes, I remember especially my cousin’s funeral and Kenai’s time in the hospital. But I was also belligerent. I was angry. I had been hurt and was too proud to show it. I remember how proud I felt when I told my good friend, my “second mama,” about my arrest and short time in jail and how she said she would have just been crying her eyes out and how brave I must have been. And I was proud. I was proud that I had stood at that tiny window in the jail cell and looked over the backside of the city and held back my tears. I was proud that I had been held at knifepoint and didn’t cry about it. I was proud that the person I loved could hurt me and I wouldn’t let him see me cry.
I’ve recently been experiencing a pain like no other. Shock, so much shock, and just exquisite pain, like nothing else I’ve known. My uncle killed himself. I honestly can’t even believe I just wrote that. I just never. I never could have imagined this. I saw him just over a year ago and he seemed fine. He had flown his plane out to Ohio for my sister’s wedding. He was his usual, happy self. His struggles were relatively recent and those closest to him respected his wishes for privacy. I feel so much shock and so much pain and so much confusion.
I want to just rip it out and let it loose but I CAN’T. I want to lay in Jt’s arms and sob and wail and scream for hours but I CAN’T. I want to accept his comfort and let it all just go but I CAN’T. I want to hide in my room for a few days. Curl up under the covers and just cry. But I CAN’T.
I cry when I am driving so no one can see me. I cried at his funeral but even then, no ugly crying. Plenty of controlled crying (and about 8,000 tissues). I thought I could do this. I thought I could cry in small doses. I thought I could ride it out. But then I realized that I couldn’t even let this out in front of my husband. He’s the one I should be able to cry with and I know that he wants me to feel like I can do this. But I just CAN’T.
I’m not entirely sure where these walls came from, though I have some ideas. I would like to work on it because it doesn’t feel healthy. I’m doing EMDR now and I’m planning to try Reiki soon. If you struggle with this as well, I will be glad to let you know how it goes.