Permission to Cry

We were all pretty thick skinned - I guess we had to be in an era where survival eclipsed feeling. You got through, you did what you had to do. You ate what was put in front of you, you wore what was handed down to you and your dreams were confined to only what you knew and what you knew was limited to what you were exposed to. You didn’t need more than a new pair of sneakers a year, you rode whatever bike was in the yard and lived within the parameters given you. Life was neither gift nor burden-it just was.

I try to reflect on the emotions of childhood-of growing up with just enough-of never setting dreams too high or even knowing that you could. Two fuzzy channels on TV, a set of World Book Encyclopedias and a library card. We played outdoors until dinner time-catching falling leaves, chasing fireflies, flying kites, playing kickball. Each season just ran into the next with little anticipation as we grew out of those sneakers and into the next size. Snowy days brought new adventures and provided us with an escape from both yesterday and tomorrow.

There was no tending to your sensitive side. Tears leaking from your eyes was fodder for sibling torment. Watching the movie ‘Carousel’ with my family, I remember going into the basement to stare at a lightbulb so I wouldn’t cry in front of them. Yeah, I was the sensitive one-or one of them. It was hard to tell.

Today I give myself permission to cry- to leak- to gather emotions and not try to force or ignore them. They paint the clearest picture of who I am. I wonder sometimes if happiness isn’t overrated. Each feeling provides us with an opportunity to know who we are -to feel what we feel- to respond to this often challenging and mystifying world. People are often drawn to the happy person, the funny person, the life of the party – but I find solace in the scarred, the weathered and the struggling. I don’t think we need to be lead through life’s funnel always toward the sunshine-it’s OK to spiral through the cache of emotion and allow yourself to feel each one. I think that’s what makes us human-it creates our layers; it builds our character. Happiness is good but it does not have to stand alone - as life’s goal, as our purpose, as our nirvana. I look forward to the storms even more than the bright sunny days. They show up with tumult and power and possibility and remind us that life isn’t always a hammock ride.