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I have been experiencing some really INTENSE cries, lately. Maybe you know the kind.
There's The Climax: the kind of cry that builds and builds until you can't hold it back anymore and an avalanche of sweet, sweet relief descends upon you like a delicious orgasm.
The Creeper: When the urge to cry hits you out of nowhere and may or may not be instigated by some heart-tugging thing you happen upon while scrolling through Tumblr.
The Panicked Never-Ending Sob: When a panic attack collides with a crying jag. Never pleasant in the moment and always exhausting, but also necessary and strangely therapeutic.
And The Disturbed Laughing Cry: When you're so happy that you start crying and choking on tears and snot at the same time but you don't care because OMG HAPPINESS why are you so overwhelming?
I've scarcely covered them all, but I've embraced and recognize each cry session as totally constructive and healthy, because I may not always be mentally or emotionally stable, but who cares? At least I'm feeling things.
This week, the culmination of many life happenings has meant that I have been hyper-prone to waterworks. Let us review each tear-inducing moment:
1) When I watched Kate Nash's "Fri-end?" music video.
This one was a Disturbed Creeper Crying Laugh, a rather frightening combination.
Miss Nash posted the video on Facebook and I watched it on a day that I had been in bed with debilitating cramps, which of course came paired with some lovely mood swings, during a time when I'd been working with my doctor to change my psychiatric medications and the chemical imbalances in my brain were less stable than ever. Basically creating THE PERFECT STORM OF CONDITIONS FOR CRIES.
The video itself is not sad and I still don't know what it was exactly that made me burst into scary laughing tears.
Maybe it was because Kate Nash was on the first mix tape my dude had ever made for me and is thus always tied to feelings of immense love and beauty in my heart.
Maybe the representation of such powerful femme imagery and lyrics paired together was too much for me to handle.
Maybe when Nash sings "You don't treat me like a friend, yeah" -- it hits a little too close to home and personal relationships.
Or maybe it was just PMS.
2) When Rosie O'Donnell showed up as a hard-hitting fast-talking 1940s era reporter and Women's Rights advocate in "Bomb Girls."
This was another Creeper. I'd been watching the series non stop, thinking "THERE IS NO WAY this show can get any better," when Rosie's character burst into action and I actually sobbed.
What can I say? Sometimes it's impossible to control my feels about fantastic fat lady representation in media, especially in a television show that already features so many diverse and complex characters. I get INVESTED in this shit.
Surprisingly enough, I did not cry upon hearing the news of the show's demise; Global TV failed to pick the show up for a third season (despite the show's success and bourgeoning fan base), which stoked my rage enough to inspire an evening of letter-writing and signal boosting for the Save Bomb Girls effort.
3) That one day I was too frustrated with myself to do anything except panic and cry.
There are some days that, when I wake up, I can feel panic rising in my chest immediately -- and I know that no matter what I do or how hard I try to keep the darkness at bay, the day is not going to be a "good" one.
These are the days I have to be careful not to let my own guilt surrounding my mental illness swallow me whole. I have to remind myself: "You did not ask to feel this way. Your brain is tackling a lot right now. It is OK to stop being so hard on yourself."
I let myself sit with each feeling and think, "Yes that is a thing I am feeling" before moving onto the next.
I let myself cry those panicked, never-ending sobs and try not to dwell on the day I am missing out on because I am unable to leave my bed.
Instead, I let everything come as it pleases, and focus on healing myself. This usually goes hand-in-hand with a lot of indulgent self care practices and "X-Files" marathons. Essential.
4) The morning I woke up to the best kind of news imaginable and let out a cry that had been building for years.
When I first started talking to the man I'm planning to marry, it was on a message board.
I told him once during our many private messages that eventually turned to daily MSN messaging sessions: "You'd better be careful, I could see myself falling in love with you."
He lives over 3,000 miles away from me, you see, so there was some understandable trepidation in the beginning.
But we became rather careless about how things were going to end and instead opted to focus on the present -- and the fact that we were falling in love from across an ocean without ever having met.
Of course, we did eventually meet, and continued to do the long distance thing between the US and the UK for a solid five years.
Tuesday morning, I woke up with a migraine and a phone call. I had been worrying ceaselessly the night before about my fiance's interview at the US embassy in London. They were supposed to review and either approve or deny his visa, a process that started almost a full year ago when we solidified our engagement and decided the time was right for him to make the move.
I was almost too nervous to even pick up the phone, but I did.
"I've got a visa!" he said, disbelief tinging his tone.
And thus, The Great Crying Climax a half-decade in the making hit me like nobody's business. After all was said and done, I was so exhausted that I fell asleep for another 4 hours.
Holy hell, did that feel good.
Tell me all about the last time you made a good cry. What coaxed it out of you? What kind of cry was it? How much do you hate/love to cry? Did you know 88.8% of people feel better after crying, with 8.4% feeling worse? Which group do you belong to? (It always makes me feel wayyyy better.)