I was just listening to my audiobook Burnout: the secret to unlocking the stress cycle by Emily Nagoski, Phd and Amelia Nagoski, DMA. I’ve got a whole “stack” of books on my Audible waiting list just like I’ve got whole stacks (yes, stacks plural) of paper and hardback copies vying for my attention all over the house. Part of being a neurodivergent book lover means embracing the chaos of jumping from text to text whenever the mood strikes me, and the mood struck at 4 pm while I was attempting to clean my kitchen for the millionth time this week.
The premise of the book is that there are a whole lot of people, women in particular, walking around crippled by the inability to process their stress and thus bearing the weight of it in their physical, mental, and emotional health. There are a lot of contributing factors, but suffice it to say that our culture does a bang up job of facilitating a perpetual state of crisis in our brains and psyches. I highly recommend you pick up a copy of the book for a deep dive and likely a few revelatory ah-ha moments.
I certainly had one of these moments upon hearing number five in a list of ways to effectively complete the stress response cycle (essentially signaling to your brain that the threat has passed, and you are safe). A big ole’ cry. That’s right, the very thing that we have been culturally conditioned not to do - weep, openly.
Crying is a sign of weakness, like blood in the water for sharks - at least this is what my mother instilled in me. I love my mother, truly. She is brave and fiercely protective of her children but also carrying the weight of her own past traumas and l was a child prone to tears. Rejection sensitivity isn’t uncommon for neurodiverse people, but crying is also a natural human response to stress and fear.
It fills me with annoyance and occasionally rage that for generations we have insisted on teaching people, especially boys, that tears are shameful. God forbid we actually feel our feelings. I can’t count the number of times I’ve ducked into a bathroom or a closet lest anyone see that I am emotionally distraught in public. It’s like we have this socially agreed upon, invisible checklist of moments when crying is acceptable: a funeral, the end of a relationship, a bride at her wedding, the occasional Hallmark movie. Outside of this context, you buck up and get your shit together because too much crying is a character flaw damn it.
I realized while washing plates and listening to this audiobook how much I have internalized this blatantly unhelpful narrative. No, I haven’t cured my rejection sensitivity or become less of a crier, I just stuff it down really, really deep and hold onto it until I explode like rouge Mentos in a two liter of coke. And, it’s not like I’m currently capable of comfortably letting it out at will either. I could no more cry when the whim strikes me than I could will myself to pee my own pants in public (even if there were a lot of money involved). I’ve been too well trained.
The truth is that crying is healthy for you - it releases oxytocin and endorphins. As one of my husband’s friends said in jest, crying gets the sad out, and also the mad, frustrated, angry, scared, and a whole host of other feelings. A big ole’ cry can, in fact, be just what the proverbial doctor ordered. How then, if you are like me and so many others, do we give ourselves permission to cry? How do we destigmatize crying?
For starters, we work on our inner monologue. We need to replace the narrative that crying is weak, embarrassing, pathetic, or a character flaw. Instead, have this internal dialogue at the ready, “Crying is a healthy, normal response to complex emotions. Feeling our feelings is a good thing.” It won’t happen overnight, but we can condition our brain’s default responses with conscious effort and practice.
When you see someone crying, note quietly to yourself, “this is is a normal, healthy response to complex emotions.” If you feel comfortable or close with the person, you can tell them, “It’s ok to feel your feelings. I’ll sit here with you, no judgment, as long as you need.” Anytime you start to feel disgusted, off put, or judgy about someone’s tears, cue up that internal narrative, “This is a normal, human response. Processing feelings is healthy.” And for goodness sake, don’t throw down with some gendered bullshit like “boys don’t cry” or “girls are just too emotional”. This isn’t scientifically true or helpful.
Next, we’re going to apply this same mentality to ourselves, and trust that this is a process because I am absolutely still working on this for myself. When you feel the urge to cry, cue up your most supportive inner voice (mine is named Jerome and he’s a whole vibe) and say out loud or think, “It’s ok to cry. Feeling my feelings is a good thing.” Then, let yourself cry. Even if it’s big and ugly, even if there is snot or weird noises, even if it feels like you might get swallowed up by the emotion and don’t know what’s on the other side. Just cry. Now, I understand that there will still be sometimes being this vulnerable in the moment doesn’t feel appropriate, like standing in front of the frozen peas at the grocery store in the middle of the afternoon and instead of beating yourself up and trying to stuff it down, just tell yourself, “I’m going to get through this moment as best as I can, then go somewhere safe, and let go of this big ole’ cry.”
If you do find yourself crying at an inopportune moment, don’t apologize. If people are judgy or concerned, you can simply say, “I’m going through some stuff and feeling my feelings. Crying is a normal, healthy response to stress.” I’m not saying that the world will suddenly change or people will immediately become more accepting. Some people may even be assholes about it, but please understand that is about them and not about you. And yes, someone being rude or hateful about it might make you cry more, but that’s ok. You are a beautiful, human little waterworks factory and learning to accept and embrace this, will eventually lead to a happier, more balanced headspace.
It’s not about shifting perspective overnight or spontaneously being comfortable with all the messy parts. What’s important is that we start accepting and loving our own humanity and that we encourage others to do the same, leading by example. Life can be hard and complicated and we owe it to ourselves to not make it harder by denying ourselves the very things that can help us cope. I strongly encourage you to pick up a copy of Burnout and then watch Beaches and have a big ole’ cry, because life is too short not to.