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My wife had covid, and was sick enough we worried about her surviving. Maybe too dramatic, but she was very sick and it scared us both.
After she recovered there was a morning I opened the fridge and she had made me a sandwich to take to work. And it just came rising in to me that we were okay now, she was back.
I cried hard.
Friday night. My kids made me watch Up.
10 minutes ago. I cry a lot there days. I used to never cry though.
I don't think crying is a bad thing, I cry if I'm watching a sad scene in a show or reading a sad book or something. I may not be full on sobbing (unless it's a really heavy one) but just the tears to me feels like a kind of free emotional release. I'm a hairy man with a full beard as well, so I'm fully aware of the stigma against crying.
I am also a hairy bearded man and I love crying. I’ll cry at sad and heartwarming scenes in shows and movies. Pretty much equally split between tears of sadness and tears of joy. Full on sobbing less frequently, but often enough.
The physical release of tears can be incredibly emotionally cathartic (I imagine that’s the idea?). I usually find myself calm and collected by the time the tears dry.
Stigmas are stupid.
We cry together, brother
Today! I’m in hospital having received surgery on both of my legs to try and restore some mobility, I’m not able to walk unaided right now, but I’m improving every day!
That’s unrelated to why I cried, though, I just wanted to defy expectations a little! I cried because I read something that always makes me cry - Valerie’s letter from V for Vendetta - I’ve included the movie version below, but it’s pretty faithful to the original:
I know there’s no way I can convince you this is not one of their tricks. But I don’t care. I am me.
My name is Valerie. I don’t think i’ll live much longer, and I wanted to tell someone about my life. This is the only autobiography that i’ll ever write, and – God – i’m writing it on toilet paper.
I was born in Nottingham in 1985. I don’t remember much of those early years. But I do remember the rain. My grandmother owned a farm in Tottlebrook, and she used to tell me that God was in the rain.
I passed my eleven plus, and went to a girl’s grammar. It was at school that I met my first girlfriend. Her name was Sarah. It was her wrists – they were beautiful. I thought we would love each other forever. I remember our teacher telling us that it was an adolescent phase that people outgrew.
Sarah did.
I didn’t.
In 2002 I fell in love with a girl named Christina. That year I came out to my parents. I couldn’t have done it without Chris holding my hand.
My father wouldn’t look at me. He told me to go and never come back. My mother said nothing.
I’d only told them the truth. Was that so selfish? Our integrity sells for so little, but it is all we really have.
It is the very last inch of us.
And within that inch, we are free.
I’d always known what i’d wanted to do with my life, and in 2015 I started my first film: The Salt Flats.
It was the most important role of my life. Not because of my career, but because that was how I met Ruth. The first time we kissed, I knew I never wanted to kiss any other lips but hers again.
We moved to a small flat in London together. She grew scarlet carsons for me in our window box. And our place always smelt of roses.
Those were the best years of my life.
But America’s war grew worse and worse, and eventually came to London.
After that there were no roses anymore. Not for anyone.
I remember how the meaning of words began to change. How unfamiliar words like “collateral” and “rendition” became frightening. When things like norsefire and the articles of allegiance became powerful. I remember how different became dangerous.
I still don’t understand it: why they hate us so much.
They took Ruth while she was out buying food. I’ve never cried so hard in my life. It wasn’t long until they came for me.
It seems strange that my life should end in such a terrible place.
But for three years I had roses – and apologised to no-one.
I shall die here. Every inch of me shall perish. Every inch.
But one.
An inch.
It is small and it is fragile, and it is the only thing in the world worth having. We must never lose it or give it away. We must never let them take it from us.
I hope that - whoever you are - you escape this place. I hope that the world turns, and that things get better.
But what I hope most of all is that you understand what I mean when I tell you that even though I do not know you, and even though I may not meet you, laugh with you, cry with you, or kiss you: I love you.
With all my heart.
I love you.
-Valerie.
Book version:
I don't know who you are. Please believe. There is no way I can convince you that this is not one of their tricks. But I don't care. I am me, and I don't know who you are, but I love you. I have a pencil. A little one they did not find. I am a women. I hid it inside me. Perhaps I won't be able to write again, so this is a long letter about my life. It is the only autobiography I have ever written and oh God I'm writing it on toilet paper.
I was born in Nottingham in 1957, and it rained a lot. I passed my eleven plus and went to girl's Grammar. I wanted to be an actress.
I met my first girlfriend at school. Her name was Sara. She was fourteen and I was fifteen but we were both in Miss. Watson's class. Her wrists. Her wrists were beautiful. I sat in biology class, staring at the picket rabbit foetus in its jar, listening while Mr. Hird said it was an adolescent phase that people outgrew. Sara did. I didn't.
In 1976 I stopped pretending and took a girl called Christine home to meet my parents. A week later I enrolled at drama college. My mother said I broke her heart.
But it was my integrity that was important. Is that so selfish? It sells for so little, but it's all we have left in this place. It is the very last inch of us. But within that inch we are free.
London. I was happy in London. In 1981 I played Dandini in Cinderella. My first rep work. The world was strange and rustling and busy, with invisible crowds behind the hot lights and all that breathless glamour. It was exciting and it was lonely. At nights I'd go to the Crew-Ins or one of the other clubs. But I was stand-offish and didn't mix easily. I saw a lot of the scene, but I never felt comfortable there. So many of them just wanted to be gay. It was their life, their ambition. And I wanted more than that.
Work improved. I got small film roles, then bigger ones. In 1986 I starred in "The Salt Flats." It pulled in the awards but not the crowds. I met Ruth while working on that. We loved each other. We lived together and on Valentine's Day she sent me roses and oh God, we had so much. Those were the best three years of my life.
In 1988 there was the war, and after that there were no more roses. Not for anybody.
In 1992 they started rounding up the gays. They took Ruth while she was out looking for food. Why are they so frightened of us? They burned her with cigarette ends and made her give them my name. She signed a statement saying I'd seduced her. I didn't blame her. God, I loved her. I didn't blame her.
But she did. She killed herself in her cell. She couldn't live with betraying me, with giving up that last inch. Oh Ruth. . . .
They came for me. They told me that all of my films would be burned. They shaved off my hair and held my head down a toilet bowl and told jokes about lesbians. They brought me here and gave me drugs. I can't feel my tongue anymore. I can't speak.
The other gay women here, Rita, died two weeks ago. I imagine I'll die quite soon. It's strange that my life should end in such a terrible place, but for three years I had roses and I apologized to nobody.
I shall die here. Every last inch of me shall perish. Except one.
An inch. It's small and it's fragile and it's the only thing in the world worth having. We must never lose it, or sell it, or give it away. We must never let them take it from us.
I don't know who you are. Or whether you're a man or a woman. I may never see you or cry with you or get drunk with you. But I love you. I hope that you escape this place. I hope that the world turns and that things get better, and that one day people have roses again. I wish I could kiss you.
Valerie
X
One of my birds died a few months back and I cried in terror for the other one (who is still sick on and off). Up until then I thought all my tears had been burned out by a 15 year family court struggle with my abusive ex.
About an hour ago. I have been suffering from severe depression and just need an outlet. It made me feel a bit better though.
Hope you're okay bud. If you ever need an outlet treat my inbox like a punching bag. Someone out here cares about you, even when you feel like nobody does (been there) 💙
This morning actually. I ran the sound system for a memorial service today. Young man lost to gun violence, not even 25 yet.
Felt weird for getting choked up, because I didn’t actually know him personally. Just hard to see all those people hurting because of a senseless and violent tragedy. And rough to know that his life ended so early and all that potential was just gone in a moment.
It's perfectly natural to cry over the loss of a life, even if you didn't know them personally. I think the man's family would be comforted that even a complete stranger was moved by their passing, I know I would.
A few weeks ago
My son (4 months old) refused to sleep and was crying/screaming for like an hour
Very frustrating, and I cried a mixture of sympathy tears and frustration tears
The last time I cried not from my son was like 15 years ago
I don't know how yall have kids. Good luck parenting!
It's tough but rewarding. I know it's cliche, but I really wouldn't trade being a dad for anything
I like that exercise actors do where they watch a clip that made them cry in the past. That scene whwre Dr. Gregory House indirectly saves the quadraplegic with single shot of cortisol gets me every time. Such a soft spot for those who heal and are healed.
I had some potent mustard at Oktoberfest today.
Well thats one way to get there!
Just when I have to put an animal down. Even then, very little and only in private. I just don’t understand how people can feel so comfortable losing control. I’m aware my option on this is no longer the popular one. Just being honest.
I genuinely don't remember the last time I cried. I'm a very stoic person. Stuff that makes people cry barely touches me, and that sucks sometimes. It doesn't feel good, knowing that that source of stress relief is just blocked for me.
Society needs to have members available at all times. You are here to keep others safe when they cry
My shoulder is available to all who need it
i hope one day you can find that for yourself too
I’m not sure how to write this in the sensitive way that it should be delivered, so I’m really sorry about that, but have you ever thought about going to therapy?
The reason I bring it up is because I used to be like that too, and it was absolutely fine with me until some shit happened in my life that my usual coping mechanisms couldn’t deal with and I went to therapy for help.
Entirely coincidentally, (or not?) we got onto the topic of emotional awareness and expression and eventually we worked out that I had trouble understanding my emotions due to a neurological disorder, but also, that I had been suppressing my emotions because as a kid I’d basically been taught that people react negatively towards my displays of emotion.
Just a thought that maybe it could help you if you were interested.
I'm on new medication and I cry at hallmark commercials. I am happier than before though
thanks to the power of estrogen, i cry all the time! i'm gonna say it's cool, though i have mixed opinions on turning into a crybaby in my 30s
I like that exercise actors do where they watch a clip that made them cry in the past. That scene whwre Dr. Gregory House indirectly saves the quadraplegic with single shot of cortisol gets me every time. Such a soft spot for those who heal and are healed.
I'm one of these strange people who don't cry even when feeling very upset, sad, or grieving... but at the same time, I sometimes cry when reading/watching a heartbreaking scene.
^Leaves ^from ^the ^vine...
I'm not quite as bad as you, but i do not cry as often as I'd like to, joy or sad. I think I last cried when I took an edible and watched Your Name
I'll add that to the edible watchlist then.
During the period of writing my master's thesis, about three years ago. I felt like a lazy piece of shit one morning because I wasn't far enough along and had procrastinated too much. So I ended up crying in the shower.
I lost my cat recently, the first one that was truly mine. he was only about 2.5 years old, but when me and my partner moved into the city together, he went missing shortly after we started allowing him outside access (he was born feral and always loved the outdoors).
a few weeks later he was hit by a car some kilometres from our house, and a couple of weeks after that, his microchip was scanned and tracked back to us.
I sobbed for about half an hour when I first got some time alone after finding out. I still tear up thinking about him at odd times. I've never loved any animal quite as much, and I wonder if I ever will again. thinking about coming home to him was all that got me through many days of work. sometimes thinking about him just makes me feel like I don't want to be alive anymore, despite my partner and the two lovely kittens we still have.
I like that exercise actors do where they watch a clip that made them cry in the past. That scene whwre Dr. Gregory House indirectly saves the quadraplegic with single shot of cortisol gets me every time. Such a soft spot for those who heal and are healed.
During my finals a few months back :')
A few days ago. It was my dog’s 14th birthday. She passed away in May though.
When I watched "The Whale" at the movie theater. Half of the room was crying at the end.
About four hours ago.
I get teary almost every day - not from sadness, but from watching my kids have a positive experience or trying my best to tell them I love them.
But sort of real, proper crying was at my mom’s funeral, before, during and after. That was three years ago.
3 days ago. It was the last day with my girlfriend until the Christmas period. I saw in my watch there was only 15 minutes before she needed to go. Something happened in my brain
I cry at the most random things. Most recently I cried during the last episode of Only Connect because a contestant solved a clue in a very clever way
When I moved to my current place of residence. It also coincided with a death, so it was a double whammy.
About a week ago when I got a large 2nd degree burn at work
Was rewatching house and watched probably the two best episodes of the series and it made me cry like crazy. I forgot about those two episodes.
Every day in this economy.