Explosive
Abrasive
Restorative
Soothing
Tears: noun
1.
a drop of the saline, watery fluid continually secreted by the lacrimal glands between the surface of the eye and the eyelid, serving to moisten and lubricate these parts and keep them clear of foreign particles. Synonyms: teardrop.
2.
Tears. Crying. So easy and natural for some, not quite so for me. I do not know exactly how or where I got the idea, the 'tape', the message, that I should not cry. That crying won't solve anything, that I don't deserve to cry - because really, is my life so bad? Really, are you going to cry about this? Others have it so much worse, why are you crying? Look at all the good in your life, you don't need to cry about this. Suck it up, and get over it, look at the bright side ... (what ever it may be for the situation, and there was always something bright to find, if I looked hard enough) - this doesn't deserve tears!
... and so, I would swallow the tears, the emotion. I would put on the happy face, TRY to breath, and move along with my day, night, life. And thus, having shoved down yet another round of intense emotion to add to the growing, compacted pile, I would carry on.
That is until recently. Perhaps within the past 2 weeks. I have allowed myself to start crying. The bouts don't last long, but are exhausting none the less. Great chest wracking, hyperventilating sobs that are releasing the pent up STUFF. Then I quiet down, and can breath and feel ... EXHAUSTED. But oh so much better. Releasing the emotion is wonderful WHY didn't I do this before? Because it was a sign of weakness? Because I felt I needed to carry all that emotion, ALL THE TIME?! Because I needed to be strong, and PROVE I could 'carry on.' Prove it to who??? Oh, that's right, all of you ... and me. Perhaps one day I will figure it out (and really, if I don't find out the reason, but can stop the pattern, that's ok!), but for now, I'm allowing myself to cry, when I can. When the sensation hits me. And I know a lot of it is not coming from just these most recent events, but from all the other times I pushed down a fear, a sadness, a personal injustice It's the compounded effect of years of emotions tied together, which is why I think its so utterly, wonderfully, exhausting.
No, that is not sarcasm - I welcome the exhaustion. Holding onto all that emotion kept me restless, filled with anxiety and all sorts of insomnia. Restless, sleepless nights; waking with racing thoughts. To feel a moment, or a couple hours of pure, worn out exhaustion is - oddly, welcomed. The healing sleep that comes after is restorative. Its brief, and good.
Just as much as the absence of love can hurt; the presence of love also heals. Self love, understanding, compassion, unexpected gestures, a hug, a knowing/understanding look - all these and more, are love. It doesn't have to be fireworks and lightening strikes. It can be appreciating the thoughtfulness of another, a moment of understanding, a glimpse of peace during meditation. These are love, compassion, HOPE. Tears of healing, of love. Expressing themselves just as the hurt also comes out.
And today's thought is: 'Do the best you can until you know better. Then when you know better, do better.' - Maya Angelou
this fluid appearing in or flowing from the eye as the result of emotion, especially grief: to shed tears.
Tears. Crying. So easy and natural for some, not quite so for me. I do not know exactly how or where I got the idea, the 'tape', the message, that I should not cry. That crying won't solve anything, that I don't deserve to cry - because really, is my life so bad? Really, are you going to cry about this? Others have it so much worse, why are you crying? Look at all the good in your life, you don't need to cry about this. Suck it up, and get over it, look at the bright side ... (what ever it may be for the situation, and there was always something bright to find, if I looked hard enough) - this doesn't deserve tears!
... and so, I would swallow the tears, the emotion. I would put on the happy face, TRY to breath, and move along with my day, night, life. And thus, having shoved down yet another round of intense emotion to add to the growing, compacted pile, I would carry on.
That is until recently. Perhaps within the past 2 weeks. I have allowed myself to start crying. The bouts don't last long, but are exhausting none the less. Great chest wracking, hyperventilating sobs that are releasing the pent up STUFF. Then I quiet down, and can breath and feel ... EXHAUSTED. But oh so much better. Releasing the emotion is wonderful WHY didn't I do this before? Because it was a sign of weakness? Because I felt I needed to carry all that emotion, ALL THE TIME?! Because I needed to be strong, and PROVE I could 'carry on.' Prove it to who??? Oh, that's right, all of you ... and me. Perhaps one day I will figure it out (and really, if I don't find out the reason, but can stop the pattern, that's ok!), but for now, I'm allowing myself to cry, when I can. When the sensation hits me. And I know a lot of it is not coming from just these most recent events, but from all the other times I pushed down a fear, a sadness, a personal injustice It's the compounded effect of years of emotions tied together, which is why I think its so utterly, wonderfully, exhausting.
No, that is not sarcasm - I welcome the exhaustion. Holding onto all that emotion kept me restless, filled with anxiety and all sorts of insomnia. Restless, sleepless nights; waking with racing thoughts. To feel a moment, or a couple hours of pure, worn out exhaustion is - oddly, welcomed. The healing sleep that comes after is restorative. Its brief, and good.
Which all gives me HOPE. Hope for a brighter tomorrow. I can see glimmers here and there, that each one is a bit better. I can feel myself healing a little bit. And I thank each of my friends and family members for their support and compassion. Compassion which also brings tears to my eyes, and sometimes sets off the quiet, streaming down the cheeks, loving, healing kind. The kind that twists and tugs at my tender, hurting heart. And, I step back and realize, compassion has always made me cry. To know and feel another's love is a very special, heart tugging experience. A friend once told me that tears of compassion are a gift. I had shared that I often cry when I actually do get to church, and was wondering what it meant. She said it was a gift, a way to recognize love ... I have held onto that little conversation, and I think I have begun to understand it.
Just as much as the absence of love can hurt; the presence of love also heals. Self love, understanding, compassion, unexpected gestures, a hug, a knowing/understanding look - all these and more, are love. It doesn't have to be fireworks and lightening strikes. It can be appreciating the thoughtfulness of another, a moment of understanding, a glimpse of peace during meditation. These are love, compassion, HOPE. Tears of healing, of love. Expressing themselves just as the hurt also comes out.
And today's thought is: 'Do the best you can until you know better. Then when you know better, do better.' - Maya Angelou
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