21. Tears

I’ve cried more in the past six months than ever before.

Why?
Because I’ve allowed myself to.

Like many of us, I grew up internalizing the patriarchal repression of emotions. Put simply:

• To be good, I must be strong.

• To be strong, I must not be weak.

• To not be weak, I must master my emotions.

Being a touchy-feely person who wears their heart on their sleeve was out of the question. Instead, I suppressed, resisted, and tried to logic my way out of my feelings.

Crying was an outward expression of vulnerability. So I’d only let my guard down on front of my mom, and even then, it wasn’t often that I’d be overwhelmed to the point of tears.

Since being on this inner journey of expansion, my tears live right at the surface, ready to fall forward in response to a full spectrum of emotions. Rather than suppress, I acknowledge. Rather than resist, I allow. Rather than logic my way out, I put my brain in the backseat. Well, at least I try to.

Beyond embarrassment and shame, there lies liberation. It’s freeing to surrender to the full-body experience of crying—to release what no longer serves. Trevor Noah echoes this idea in his Born A Crime autobiography about growing up in South Africa:

I never let the memory of something painful prevent me from trying something new. If you think too much about the ass kicking your mom gave you, or the ass kicking that life gave you, you’ll stop pushing the boundaries and breaking the rules. It’s better to take it, spend some time crying, then wake up the next day and move on. You’ll have a few bruises and they’ll remind you of what happened and that’s okay (p. 90-91).

Noah describes taking time to process trauma before moving on. He creates space for his heart. He releases his pain through his tears. That physical expression is key.

Whenever you notice big feelings arise—positive or negative, try to release them. Allow the pent-up energy to flow through and out of you.

Shake, sigh, dance, scream, sing, or even cry. You might come to love it.