Today I cried.
Like really fucking cried. Not that cry that messes your makeup but the kind that messes up your face. I sobbed. My therapist told me I needed to cry more. That in fact I don’t emote enough. I don’t think she knows me very well.
The first few months I cried all the way to work, a 45 minute release that felt like it would never end. Then one day, a new friend asked me, “Did you just say casually you cry all the the way to Work?”
I realized then by the look of concern on her face it wasn’t normal. So for my therapist to say I don’t cry enough baffles me. I just don’t let anyone see me cry. I’ve never let anyone see me cry. The first and only time my stepfamily of 18 years saw me cry was the day I walked, let’s be honest ran, into the hospital to find my dad dead. I lost my shit. Like academy award winning lost my shit. It scared them. I’ll never cry in front of them again.
Today however, today I cried.
It’s not like life hasn’t given me reasons to cry. Holy fucking mother of God it’s surprising I keep it together so well. TBH I don’t understand my composure sometimes. We could go through the laundry list of clinical reasons why my life has sucked and unless I told you wouldn’t have any idea. Some people who’ve known me for decades don’t know but let’s be honest I’m good at pulling my shit together.
For instance when I lost my shit the day I cuddled my dad’s dead body I would go from sobbing to pragmatic in seconds. My messy tears mixed with irrational profanity screaming at my dad to come back to a tone and inflection that of someone primm and proper and of someone put together in seconds.
However, today I cried.
I asked my soon to be ex husband a question testing his ability to be honest. Finally, for the first time in months he was honest. Painfully fucking honest. That kind of honesty that as he answered I wished I could take back the question. I thanked him for being honest for the first time in six years and walked out of the house to the dumpster. Every step my legs felt heavier. Every step I felt a little less control. Every step I became a little weaker until I finally cried.
Today I cried in the dumpster. Not literally inside the dumpster but in the wooded area that corralled the dumpsters. I stood between recycling and trash and sobbed. I sobbed the messy sobs where my face began to heat up. I sobbed the panic, painful tears that when heard can be felt by anyone who heard them. I sobbed in silence so no one could hear until I began to hyperventilate. I practiced breathing skills to calm me down so I didn’t dry heave. They didn’t work in time. In between sobs and hyperventilating I dry heaved up air. I dry heaved up pain and sorrow and misery. I dry heaved up regret and loneliness.
Today I cried.
I cried until I heard his footsteps. I calmed myself down. It must have been a good ten minutes of sobbing. I pulled myself together and turned around and in my oh so put together way I gave him directions and told him I would see him later. He looked at me broken and scared.
Today I cried.
I walked to my car, shut the door and sobbed. I sobbed so you could hear it. I didn’t know I could do that. I could feel the tears in my chest. I could feel the tears in my soul. I wailed and didn’t care who heard because my car was my protection.
Today I cried until I couldn’t cry anymore but I can finally say, today I really fucking cried.