The dark haired beauty looked up at me and asked me if daddies ever cry. I smiled back at her and said that sometimes they do. She looked up at me and asked why she hadn’t ever seen me cry. I smiled again and asked her why.
“Abba, it is ok to cry. It doesn’t mean that you are a baby,” she replied. And with that she pulled my head down and kissed my black eye. For a moment I stopped and stared at her, not really sure what to say. So I hugged her and told her that she was right.
And then I thought back to a post I wrote five years ago called The tears that do not fall. In that post I related the story of how a 14 year-old boy swore that he wouldn’t cry anymore. That post stands out for a number of reasons. It was among the first in which I really opened up here. It was among the first that made me realize that there was far more potential here than I had ever realized.
It stands out because it is our character for me. I suppose If you only know me through the blogosphere that might sound strange, but in person I am relatively guarded and careful with what I am willing to share. I don’t open up very easily. Too many years of doing otherwise.
Five years later I still rarely cry. It is better than it was. It is easier than it was, but it is still rare. In fact, I don’t think that anyone has really seen me cry in person since I was that teenage boy. I won’t say that it is impossible or unlikely for things to change. It is a safe bet to say that one of these days that will change.
But it is not going to come easily. I look back at that post and five years later much of it is familiar, too familiar. Don’t misunderstand, I don’t see crying as a panacea for all that troubles me. I don’t think that it is going to fix all of the challenges I may face at a particular time. I am not convinced that it is always going to make me feel better.
But I think that it will help. I think that some things that bother me may disappear or at least fade away more quickly. I think that it might make it easier to let go. For now I suppose that I will just have to wait and see what happens.
I’m the same way. I blog about my deepest darkest thoughts, yet if you meet me in person you would never know it. I put on my happy public face when I’m around other people. In fact, I blog anonymously and no one in my real life (except my husband) knows about it. That way I’m safe to reveal my inner sadness.
Crying is good too though. Visiting from pour your heart out.
When I had complete anonymity I was a bit more free with my posts- but I have slowed down a bit with that.
Blogging is therapy is so very true.
I definitely find it easier to write to a screen and send it out to supportive bloggers than to sit and talk to friends who I know hold some judgements about me.
Blogging is therapy.
Crying comes easily to me, but sharing can be more of a challenge. Good for you for channeling those feelings through your blog. Blogging is good therapy.
Blogging is cathartic.
Isn’t it amazing what we can share in blogging that we wouldn’t face to face? I’m actually quite reserved irl.
As for crying, I, on the other hand, am a blubbering mess.
My readers would be shocked to see me in person because I am far less forthcoming than I am here. Not really a surprise but…