What's the best way to support a friend who is going through tough times? Share your thoughts in the comments below.
I smell strong coffee, and the tears well up.
In the produce aisle, I sniffle into a tissue.
Is that a Swiss-style chocolate truffle? Queue the waterworks.
There are people who’ve asked, “Why cry? She lived a good life.” I feel relief after crying. Shouldn’t I embrace the tears as healing? Yet they feel unwelcome.
Still. After all these years.
My maternal grandmother, Theresa, who lived to meet her first great-great-grandchild, passed away last month at 90. She drank rich, dark Café Bustelo. She chose meat and produce carefully for her large family dinners. She offered mouthwatering Lindnor Truffles to my beaming son.
Tears—and the bodily changes we experience with them, play a role in our wellness, particularly with regulating emotions and controlling stress and inflammation.
Theresa lived an amazing life. With a high school diploma, she became a manager for corporate accounts at a global banking giant. She invested her pay into purchase of a Harlem brownstone. She danced in Harlem’s historic ballrooms. She loved hard on her four kids, 12 grandkids and 23 great-grands. She traveled, had good friends, and got her groove back when she found love again in her 80s.
A life well lived. Yet I can’t stop crying.
I’m a happy individual. That’s a conscious choice. “If you want to be miserable, then shame on you,” My paternal Grandma Lucille would say. It may seem blunt and old-school, yet she taught me that I had a choice. Joy is the goal, even if it does take practice to maintain.
I never used to cry in front of others, except for my momma. She often met my teenage tears with a sigh. Rather than deal with it, she’d say, ‘Go write about it in your journal.’
Crying sucks and I’d prefer not to do it. It makes me look weird, my eyes swell, get puffy and red. My nose burns, because crying makes blood vessels dilate, increasing blood flow to the face, according to healthline.com. I never used to cry in front of others, except for my momma. She often met my teenage tears with a sigh. Rather than deal with it, she’d say, “Go write about it in your journal.”
Growing up, it was common to hear: “Stop that crying!” or “Want me to give you something to cry about?”
We’ve got lacrimal glands—aka tear glands, for a reason. Imagine if we felt social anxiety, fear or shame when our glands secrete sweat, breast milk, insulin, digestive juices or saliva—which are other products of our exocrine system?
At work? I dared not risk appearing weak to peers, bosses or clients. When I worked in fashion, I witnessed a young designer’s tears during New York Fashion Week. “She can’t handle the pressure,” people whispered.