Crying is an interesting concept to me. I remember crying quite frequently when I was much younger, followed by a half hour of hyperventilating in extreme cases. Since 1993, the closest I have come to crying is getting a little teary-eyed, or a bit choked up.
I used to take pride in the fact that nothing anyone could do to me would cause me to cry. That probably fit heavily into my definition of "strong," and was part of my attempt to bring a sense of control to a very difficult situation. Eventually I came to realize that crying is a natural process, and probably healthy in certain circumstances. By that point the subconscious reflex to suppress any impulse to cry, was so strong that I no longer had much conscious control over it.
I never have had much of an impulse to cry when I am alone, but the more people there are around, the less I want to cry. In those cases, I consciously let the suppression reflex kick in, probably out of fear, not being sure what will happen if I finally cry after such a long time. The strongest urge I have felt to cry was about eight years ago at my grandfather's funeral, right as I was about speak in front of the service. That was "not the time" in my conscious opinion, so I let that impulse get suppressed by my own defense mechanism.
It would seem that, at least in my case, "crying" is probably best accomplished in a one-on-one environment, since that is the only way I could imagine consciously letting it happen. The situation would have to be safe enough for me to let go, but not so safe as to dissipate the underlying tension that boils over as crying.
If crying is a way of releasing pent-up emotional tension, then my experiences with it have not been emptying the cup so much as sloshing a bit over the side, making it easier to prevent it from spilling any more after that point. But the bulk of the built-up tension remains unaffected, which is probably a negative thing.
The events of the past two weeks have brought to light many issues in the way that I "process emotions." It is hard to tell what is good or bad about my approach in the present, but I am sure hindsight will provide an interesting perspective in the future. I either process them so quickly that I nearly miss them, or so slowly that it’s imperceivable. The contrast between how my brother and I react to similar situations is pretty extreme. While he would likely be described as “normal,” I probably come off as cold and uncaring, but I also am able to remain calm and lead in extremely trying circumstances. I am sure that comes at a cost, but I still don't fully understand what that cost is.
I was reading a book last month, which constantly made reference to meeting "emotional needs." I had no idea what the author was trying to get at, even though that was an important part of what he was talking about, since almost no specific examples were ever given. Now I am beginning to understand what those "needs" are. I still can't quantify or describe them, but I recognize that they exist, and I guess that is a logical first step. I believe that an opportunity to cry is one of those needs, but I don't seem to be able to make that happen. And I recognize that the action of crying, while functional in restoring balance to the body, is just a physical manifestation of a much more significant emotional issue.
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