I'm in sixth grade gym class, and we're playing a game called Dareline. The concept is simple: the coach calls out a description (all boys, white shoes, blonde hair), and everyone matching it must run the length of the gymnasium while avoiding balls thrown by a small group in the center.
It's one of my favorite games because I'm good at hiding in the crowd. Poised behind the boundary line, I'm ready to run and dodge.
"Black shirts, go!"
I glance at my shirt. Dark green, I decide. The coach disagrees. After a moment, he shouts my name, thinking I missed the initial call. It's too late; the crowd has dispersed, leaving me at the mercy of several ball-wielders. Running isn't even an option. I'm not just out; I'm out in slow motion. I'm humiliated.
As I exit the play area, I weakly argue that my shirt is green. But behind my eyes, I feel a familiar sensation ready to undermine my reasoning: I'm choking up. Tears form, and my voice cracks. People ask if I'm okay, which only intensifies the embarrassment.
In the locker room, I feel a tap on my shoulder. "Hey, you're right. That does look green in this light."
This was a pretty common occurrence throughout my childhood. My default reaction to any strong emotion was to cry. Scared by a dream? Weeping. Angered by a bully? Weeping. Low score on a test? Bawling my eyes out.
By sixth grade, it had gone beyond pitiable and into humiliating. Every incident obliterated my self-worth. If I couldn't control it, I was sure I'd never gain confidence or respect. I'd never be seen as an adult. I resolved to make it stop by whatever means possible.
I'd closed up the leak by high school. Other than a few tearful goodbyes senior year, I had my public crying under control. Thinking back, even my closest friends only saw me cry once or twice. I saved it all up for my alone time, of which I had very little at the time.
What's odd is that I couldn't really say how I changed. Just that I decided I should never cry in public, so I stopped doing it. And eventually I barely cried at all, even by myself.
This approach caught up with me at some point. It happened slowly, over several years. Once when I thought I'd failed my first undergrad course. Another time when dancing to a sentimental song set off an unexpected chain of emotions. One more when relating the story of an old friend who'd fallen into addiction.
It wasn't until that last one I realized my mistake. A policy of "don't cry in front of people" inevitably leads to an emotional disconnect. I never got my emotions under control at all. I just avoided them until I couldn't anymore. The change I'd made was to stop letting myself be vulnerable.
Unfortunately that realization hasn't made the process any easier. And life circumstances like losing a pet, moving across the state, and dealing with a global pandemic have only made things worse in the past few years. I can't even listen through some of my favorite songs without tearing up, because they carry too much emotional weight. Never mind trying to sing along.
Sometimes I can't even identify the trigger or the specific emotion. I feel strongly, therefore I produce tears. It's disruptive, but obviously I have some catching up to do. So I've been paying more attention and looking to understand.
Along that line, I've been meaning for some time to put together a list of things that have made me cry. Some are reasonable, others less so. I'm hoping that writing it down will help prompt me to examine some of these situations more closely next time. And maybe it can help someone else as well.
So, a content warning here: some items on this list were traumatic for me and could trigger strong emotions in others as well. Most of the worst ones involve loss. That said, here's my list. I'll keep adding as I think of more.
- Thinking about my cat Jam, who died in 2020.
- Listening to (or singing) songs I liked when I was a teenager.*
- Feeling worthless or nihilistic, usually about work.
- Remembering good times with my old band LuxPerSono.
- Thinking about my cousin Michael who died in 2019.
- Being overstimulated, usually by a social situation.
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