Why a "cry day" is actually a GOOD idea...

The sorrow which has no vent in tears

may make other organs weep. 

                                                                 -Henry Maudsley 

I remember the day that I started to hate crying. I had been warned by another co-worker that I was being blamed for a "call gone bad". But instead of handling the matter privately, giving me the opportunity to defend myself and let the truth be known, the owner of the company decided that he wanted to make an example out of me because I had been talking to my husband on the other line when things went wrong. He did this by playing the call to my fellow dispatchers and explaining that I was the reason that things had gone terribly, horribly wrong. What he failed to examine was the long standing feud between dispatch and the paramedics which created an environment where neither felt they could properly do their job. Without the feud the paramedics would have repeated the address on their pagers to my partner, something that was expected of the lowly EMT's but not of the paramedics, and they would have gone to the correct Instacare, picked up the RIGHT patient and none of this would have ever happened. Instead my partner simply told them to go to the Instacare, assuming that they had the address on their pagers, and gave them the details of the patient that they were supposed to transport. Long story short they went to the wrong Instacare and because I "took the call" I was being blamed, even though I had entered the correct address and had dispatched the correct paramedic team.

 

As I walked into the meeting I could feel everyones eyes on me. Apparently the word had gotten out that I was the topic of conversation for the day. I had planned what I was going to say, I knew that the truth of the matter needed to be exposed for what it was. I didn't deserve to be the scape goat.

 

But as the call started, all courage, and anger and defiance drained out of my body and all I was left with were tears. I told them to stop the tape, laid down my badge and left the room.

 

The owner followed after me. Again, all I could do was cry. I don't remember our conversation, but I remember feeling how weak and insignificant I was. I couldn't make a single coherent sentence to help in my defense.  I wanted to roar like a lion, but I was running away, scared like a lamb. My tail between my legs, defeated.

 

Crying was now a sign of weakness, it was there to let those around me know that I was an easy target.

 

I have always been sensitive. I cried when a little boy told me that I had chubby legs on my first day of Kindergarten. I cried when my brother was being picked on for being nice to "less popular" kids. I cried when the chimpanzees in the movie "Project-X" were exposed to radiation and died. I cried when I was happy and I cried when I was sad.  

 

I had always just let it all hang out.

 

But now, crying was dirty. Instead of cleaning out built up emotions, I pushed them down and held them in.

 

I still cried, occasionally, but never when I was weak or defeated.

 

Years later I was a NICU nurse. I cried at every delivery I ever attended. My favorite deliveries were those where I could wrap up a healthy baby and hand it over to an excited but scared mom. When the baby needed some more attention from the NICU team the tears were short lived and I quickly got to work doing the things that the baby needed to survive. I could justify these tears, because they were happy tears, but they did become a bit of an inconvenience. Soon I was pushing down the happy tears. 

 

When I first started to connect the dots surrounding my depression anything that even remotely resembled sadness was pushed down to the deepest, darkest parts of my soul. I was on survival mode. If anything stirred up that pot of tears I removed myself from the situation and pushed the sadness down further. Tears were now associated with this dark place in me that stole my zest for life, that left me failing as a wife and mother. If they weren't a part of the equation I felt just a little bit better.

 

What I had forgotten is that those tears are there for a reason. It's as if they hold that emotion and release it into the world. An emotion that is pushed down and held in has a way of festering inside of you, making you uneasy and brittle. 

 

Several months ago I heard a conversation on the radio where the host was talking about her "cry days". The co-host thought she was nuts, he was a guy btw, and asked anyone else out there to call in if they too had "cry days". The reaction was AMAZING and something that I was so grateful to be a witness to. There were other sensitive souls out there, like me, who needed that release of emotions and if they weren't getting it from their daily lives, they would induce that release in the privacy of their own homes. 

 

I had never tried a "cry day" before but thought it might not hurt. I was still a little scared that crying would make me spiral even deeper into a pit of despair, but at the moment I was pretty down and was hoping for a little glimmer of hope.

 

So, I pulled out the iPad and started searching for anything that would help me with some happy tears. I found videos of soldiers reuniting with their unsuspecting families, sappy proposals and videos of people walking for the first time following horrible accidents. It was kind of funny in the beginning. I was acting like I was crying, but nothing was coming out. Maybe my pipes were clogged from all of the years of non-use. By about ten minutes in it happened. I was sobbing like a baby. Not a cute baby mind you. I was crying like a booger filled gorilla making horrible gasping sounds following each new wave of tears. It was really ugly folks, but it was also so incredibly beautiful.

 

I was allowing myself to feel again. The whole time I was afraid of the repercussions of these emotions, but I was also so relieved that the tiniest bit of these emotions were now being released out into the world instead of being bottled up inside of me.

 

Guess what happened next?

Nothing.

I didn't feel weak or insignificant or that I had failed. If anything I felt like I was a little bit more whole. That by letting go of my emotions something else could now take it's place. Something that was light and airy instead of dark and heavy.           

I haven't looked to see if there is any "scientific" backing for my findings, but I do know that it helps me feel better. So I will continue to have my "cry days" and will slowly find my way back to happy.