I've been feeling weepy lately. I'm weeping about a friend's loss and children living with illness. I'm weeping about the generational shift that takes place when you're my age. I weep when I hear certain songs, and even wept when I saw the trailer for "The Blind Side"...AFTER I'd seen the movie (I didn't even like it that much). When I feel weepy like this, I know that the best remedy is a BIG CRY. An EPIC CRY. The kind of crying where you know your face looks contorted and red and ugly and you don't give a damn.
I haven't done it yet, but keep telling my husband I need to find a moment and the space to open the dams and let all my heart's feelings flow free.
Here's a poem I love on the topic:
Crying only a little bit
is no use. You must cry
until your pillow is soaked!
Then you can get up and laugh.
Then you can jump in the shower
Then you can throw open your window
and, "Ha ha! Ha ha!"
And if people say, "Hey,
what's going on up there?"
"Ha ha!" sing back, "Happiness
was hiding in the last tear!
I wept it! Ha ha!"
I've been thinking lately about how uncomfortable it makes us when our children cry. We want to stop them, with comfort, or reprimands, or isolation. Violet in particular cries about everything; when it's tantrummy, ear-splitting, shatter-the-window-panes crying, we have to put her outside on the porch till she's done. This isn't a punishment, but more a move towards preserving the aural health of the other people in the house.
But maybe she knows something I've forgotten. Maybe the next time she starts, I'll let 'er loose, and cry right along with her. I know happiness is hiding in there somewhere!