There are a thousand different ways to cry

I’ve been a “crybaby” to many since I was two. I was always labeled as sensitive or weak, because my favorite way to express myself was through tears. But after years of being called everything under the sun for expressing myself, I chose to hide my feelings behind a mask. So I decided, why not write those many moments down here. The moments that I hid from the world and the moments that made me feel the most vulnerable.

I find it very often that people have a tendency to dismiss me and my feelings. I have an emotionally unavailable mother so I should be used to this type of behavior right? Wrong. I still continue to search for the emotional support I’ve lacked all my life. Even in my early teen years, I’ve always had memories of me shedding many tears like layers, because my fragile heart had once again been shattered. I often would try my best to express my feelings to people, but I would never get very far. Growing up my mother would always shut down when I tried to express myself to her. Knowing that even the woman who birthed me didn’t really know how to care, already put me off to a bad start. I then made friends with people similar to her who would never really give me the comfort I gave them. I’d give them my shoulder to cry on, but I had to get my own tissue to wipe away my tears. And I never left these relationships alone, because we tend to always go with what feels familiar. Most of the time, my mother wouldn’t tell me that she loved me. She’d buy me a toy and that’s it. It was her way of letting me know that she cared. But emotionally this always made it harder for me to open up to her. So of course, most of my relationships followed the same pattern. They’d buy me things or offer me dinner as a way to show love or to tell me they’re sorry. And now that I’ve mentioned it, I don’t usually get many sorry’s from my mother either. She’d always just tell me to “come eat,” after she yelled at me or hurt my feelings. For years she thought this was the right way to apologize. She thought I knew that she was sorry. But I didn’t. I never knew. And to this day, she still won’t open up to me. This trait of emotional neglect from many people has led to many nights alone in my room. I’d just cry and cry until my eyes were puffy and it hurt to blink. It was the only way to express myself, because I knew no one else would listen.

Another time I broke down into tears was when I had just gone through a painful breakup. I had known the person for a while and things seemed to be going fine. But that lack of communication always manages to wriggle its way back into my relationships. My partner was very Lowkey and quiet. They didn’t really talk to others much, except for me. We had a pretty fun and exciting long distance relationship for about a year, until I started to notice slight inconsistencies about them. Like how they’d play victim if I confronted them about something serious or important. Like how they lied about having a mental illness to evade taking responsibility for things. Even after this, I still felt like maybe it’s just the way they were raised. That tends to be the thing I lean on the most when I feel like I can’t find an explanation to someone’s behavior. I constantly offered them support and gave them space when necessary, but it still wasn’t enough. After a while I thought maybe we should end things so that I could protect my peace and they could do the same. Even though I was the one who ended things, I still hate that I wasn’t able to fix the relationship the way I wanted to. But that was my problem. I tried to fix broken people, despite being broken myself. I had been shattered many years ago, but I was using all of my glass pieces and glue to mend others back together. Of course, this is why I tend to feel so much for others. “Been there done that,” is the motto I chose to live by. And because I’ve experienced so much hurt, I try not to hurt others. It’s like gripping a ladder to save myself, but there are razor blades on every peg I climb.

The last time I want to talk about, is the time I laid on my back in my bed and shed my tears in the dark. I had been facing a lot of challenges recently, challenges I didn’t think I could take on. I had been helping my mother with work, I had been trying to maintain good grades, and I had to take care of the house on my own when my mother was working. I remember laying down in my bed uttering, “I wish to please everyone, why can’t I please everyone?” I was genuinely asking that question to whatever force above me that was listening. I just wanted a break from everything. I just wanted the world to stop completely so that I could just take one god damn breath. Just one. But I couldn’t. I just felt so overwhelmed with anger, sadness and frustration that my throat burned with my brewing tears. I was angry with the world but angry at myself for seeming so selfish. But I wasn’t. I just wanted a break. I had everyone on my back, and I had no one to lend me a hand. So I just remember laying in the dark while everyone in the house was asleep as I popped in my headphones to play some music. As soon as the song began to play, it’s like my tears just flowed along with it. I just bit my lip to hush my whines and continued to cry. Shutting my eyes as tight as I could to just, think. Even though my mind was overloaded, it still felt like I couldn’t think about anything. I felt trapped within myself. But luckily, there’s a happy ending to all of these stories. I’ve finally been able to realize my worth, and that I deserve to be happy. It’s not my job to fix others. All I can do is hope, and support them.