I AM the emotional one
I’m a crier. Whew, that was actually much easier to get out there than I expected. Now more assertive and with confidence, “My name is Jess and I cry all the time!” Happy? Crying. Overwhelmed? Crying. Angry? Crying. Sad? Duh, crying. Tired? Crying. You get the picture. AND before you can say, “Well, it is probably because you are perimenopausal” I want to cut you off right there. I have always been a crier. Even as a young girl. Things just have always seemed to affect me deeply.
In a recent bickering fight with my husband I blurted out, with tears running down my cheeks, “I just wish I didn’t have to be the emotional one in this relationship!” Calmly and kindly he reached over and touched my hand, “But you ARE the emotional one in this relationship. . .” I couldn’t help but laugh. As I looked at the scene from his angle he had a point. Damn it.
It was after this moment that I started looking more closely at how swiftly I am moved to tears and I’ve realized maybe my ability to be so vulnerable allows me to more fully embrace my experiences of life.
I have two “ favorite“ reasons to cry, and they are because of awe and because of love. Lucky me, I’ve experienced both of these crying episodes recently and I want to share the stories with you.
Awe: The family and I traveled to Kauai for spring break. Really that place is just magical. On one of the days there, we ventured out to do an 8 mile hike along the Nepali coast. Crazy amounts of rain the week before contributed to making the hiking conditions extremely muddy and the river crossings intense. When we finally approached the 300 foot waterfall I lost it. It was unbelievably beautiful and I was overwhelmed by how I was actually there seeing it with my own eyes and in the company of the people I love. Nature has a way of evoking so much wonder within me that I was just weeping.
Love: The second story is about my son. He’s 11 and a year ago was diagnosed with OCD. After working with a therapist he has been so much better. He even joined jujitsu and wanted to compete in a tournament. So, we signed him up. When we got there is was extremely overwhelming and the energy was intense. I felt like I was witnessing a roided up version of a school yard brawl. There was a mass of 100’s of bodies circled around a ring which held 8 different fights and everyone was yelling. It was muggy, loud, and intimidating as hell. When it was my son’s turn, we realized that the kid he was up against had more experience and outweighed him by at least 10 lbs. They shook hands and then boom it was over. My son lost. Next match, same kid. They shook hands and then it was 3 minutes of watching my son doing everything in his power to hold this kid off. Excruciating. When I went over to him afterward I couldn’t help that my eyes were brimming with tears it was an emotionally charged moment. My boy had done something that had made me ridiculously proud. He had put himself out there and came out on the other side of it okay. This wouldn’t have been something he would have attempted a year ago. Growth.
Yes, with both of these situations (and all the other situations) the family razzes me about my tears. It’s especially comical when I say “Oh, I wasn’t expecting to cry” because their response is always, “oh, we expected it”. But I have come to terms with this gentle teasing. I like the fact that I can see a waterfall and be so overcome with emotion that I weep. I like that I have such an abundance of love and pride for my family that I can’t hold back my “tell”. I am a dynamic and complex human that feels all the feels. I AM the emotional one and . . . I’m going to cry thinking about how beautiful that is.
