Crying Behind the Keyboard

It’s been a very long month, and between working way too many hours, being overtired, trying new “sharing” things (Quora and Medium) and it just being cold and dark, it was too much for me today. I got home late again, loved and fed the cat herd, turned on my laptop, ordered Chinese food..and started to cry.

You don’t know me, but here are two key things about me. 1) I have some issues — control issues, emotional detachment/availability issues, social anxiety issues, other less prevalent, run of the mill issues and 2) I don’t cry.

Somewhere in the dark of my past, I have put crying on the “Do Not Ever” list. It’s become a sign of weakness and need. It is a reminder of how I reacted to the first time of feeling “less than”. It revisits the pain of loss, the fear of sharing, the inability to try, the loneliness and the emptiness inside that sometimes threatens to swallow me up. I feel, I hurt, but I don’t cry.

As I sat helplessly sobbing, trying to be quiet so as not to wake hubby or upset the cats, I had an epiphany of sorts, as I realized that I was feeling…better. Better about dealing with the work stress (busiest time of year + multi-server ransomware hack = more pressure and hours than even I want to take on). Better about letting a few random readers learn a little about me (yes, I second guess my decision to write/respond just like I overthink everything I do and feel). Better about not always feeling strong and necessary. Better about me, my quirks, my imperfections, my issues.

I hadn’t noticed that my emotional well was so full, with the lid on so tightly, that it had to overflow, to open and make space to take in the changes I’m trying so hard to make in my life. Like releasing a pressure valve, those few minutes of being so overwhelmed stabilized me and gave me a necessary adjustment to be able to accept a small step in the personal growth that I crave. That small step? The ability to cry.