brave and appropriate

Photo cred: Lukas Bato on Unsplash

“What is the bravest thing you ever said?”, asked the boy. “Help”, said the horse. - From the book, The Boy, the mole, the fox, and the Horse by Charlie Mackesy.

Two Sundays ago, I woke up to my 5 year-old-daughter warm and solid next to me in bed. As she began to stir, she said sleepily, “crying is brave.” I was surprised to hear this profound sentiment so early in the morning. When I asked her where this came from, she said she remembered me telling her that she was brave while getting her shots at the doctor.

The week prior, I sat outside in the chilly air with a group of women who are currently taking my six-week sacred soul circle. In the spirit of community and connection, we let out a big collective sigh and then taking turns shared our thoughts and feelings about the upcoming holidays. As I began to talk first about the past year, I felt tears welling up in my chest and eyes. I did not hold back. I cried. And no one stopped me or tried to make me feel better. Instead they sat there with their own sadness, witnessing mine, and allowing space for all of it.

I cried for the heaviness of the past year; for the multitude of disappointments, the culmination of so many losses, from the depletion and mental exhaustion of trying to make the best out of everything for each other and our kids. I cried because I am thankful and hopeful. I cried for so many reasons.

I used to despise being the one who cried. I felt too emotional, exposed, sensitive, and embarrassed. Too raw.

Now I ask myself, why the embarrassment? I am a deep feeling human being and why is this something to feel ashamed about?

We are told maybe from our families, certainly from school, jobs, - from society in general - that when we cry we are weak or pms-ing or too feminine or too emotional. I can’t help but wonder if we were more open, gentle, and compassionate about our tears, how much better off we would all be. Repression and stuffing down our feelings or saving them for a more appropriate time, doesn’t work too well - for me anyway.

We can’t stop the rain from falling and nor would we want to. Without it, everything would die. There would be no rainbows, no green grass, nothing growing at all.

And we can’t stop our tears from falling either.

Many of us are in the habit of apologizing or waving them away as if they are a big fat nuisance. But what if we stopped doing this and smiled at them instead? Could we welcome them and embrace them for the gift that they truly are? Sure it’s awkward and uncomfortable but so much of life is awkward.

I tried this before Christmas. I could feel tears building so I sat in my closet, buried myself in old Christmas cards and photos and let the tears fall. I felt nostalgic. I missed my family and not sure where I fit in here at Christmas time and unsure of what was safe and smart to do this year during a raging pandemic, I felt lonely. Afterwards the bitterness softened. I felt more tender and lighter because I allowed it. I moved with it. It came and went as all emotions do. Nothing bad or good just a wavy ribbon of awareness and weather moving through.

If you are the one who repeatedly gets teary eyed or feels embarrassed about crying, you are not alone. But know you are brave and you are inviting others to touch a place of deep feeling and sadness but also regrowth and healing within themselves. You are saying, I won’t step away when you cry or try to change your tears to something more comfortable for me. You are saying, I will witness, bless them, and applaud your vulnerability, courage, and bravery.

On New Year’s Eve, my husband’a aunt died. She was my mother-in-law’s sister and her best friend. My husband has many happy memories from his childhood of being with her and his larger than life, funny, really kind and often times completely inappropriate (No wonder why I liked him so much) uncle and his cousins - their three kids-in Baltimore. Staying at their house was like a second home for him. And I felt this too when I stayed with them for the first time.

Their house was comfortable and homey. His aunt was kind, warm, and welcoming, always trying to feed us, and making sure we didn’t need anything. She often asked about my family and listened when I told her about my mom being sick or about my kids. She baked, knit beautiful blankets and yarmulkes, and sent my children birthday cards.

Whenever we would see her - be it here or there - she had cookies for us. She loved her family and friends dearly. And being on zoom last night with them - with all of these people who loved her - felt like a gift. We cried and laughed and listened to funny and sweet stories about her. It is hard mourning those we love, I think it is the hardest thing there is. But when we make room for the tears, we make room for the laughter too. And from there, so much good can grow.

“Tears fall for a reason and they are your strength, not weakness.” - Charlie Mackesy