Cry baby

Drink my own tears

Did you know that when you have PTSD it is very difficult to cry? I didn’t. Until I realised that I had not cried for 2 years. It was all bottled up in the true sense of the word. At that time, I began to perform a funny routine called ‘Drink my own tears.’ It made fun of my mental health and my drink problem as I tottered around stage drinking different vintages from all the men who had hurt me. It was funny and it was clever, wasn’t it?

Surprise!

When I finally cried I was at the wheel of my gold mini in the middle of Birmingham city centre. Car horns blared all around me but 2 years is a tsunami of tears and I sat with my head on the steering wheel and cried. And cried. I felt better afterwards. But like so much of my mental health, I didn’t realise that this was a common feature of PTSD until I had experienced it. Am I the only one who treats my mental health as a permanent surprise to my daily routine?

Turn off

Wake up. Don’t cry.

The next year was a strange one for me on the tears front. I can only describe it as a faulty tap. On occasion when I should have cried I was totally detached (classic PTSD.) But at other times I would burst into tears for no reason. I m not sure if those tears were delayed or backed up from 5 years of a hellish marriage. Either way, something was off. It was embarrassing at times. But once they were on, there was no way of turning off those taps.

Apple Sigh

The most natural tears I ever cried were when I saw my father lying very close to death. They flowed out and it felt such a beautiful relief. So smooth. They simply ran down my face in sympathy. The grief that followed brought angry tears, the real snotty variety. But those tears were pure. I think we cry different tears for different emotions. When I was in an abusive marriage my eldest son would sometimes eat my apple pie and say ‘Mum, I can tell you felt sad when you made this.’ He was right. I had cried on that pie as I made it. He nicknamed it Apple Sigh.

Predictably unpredictable

Crying in public is acceptable on stage. Unshaved armpits is still not. Why?

Tears are healthy but they are unpredictable. And that’s ok. In England we are still expected to keep it together at funerals – or at least stick to slight sobs. This is not a healthy grief. When do you cry? How often? When do you hold in your tears? How often? And what feelings have you attached to crying? I always used to feel a bit ashamed if I cried in public – and people do look uncomfortable. But now I say to myself, if you need to cry then go on and cry. Other people’s reactions are not your responsibility.

The 361 recovery programme can help you through loss by identifying what your emotions are (first step.) They may be buried in childhood, PTSD or family patterns. 361 can also help you to release those emotions in healthy ways – rather than the bottled up effect. Crying is one of those healthy releases. Exercise is another. Writing. Music. Art. Sport. 361 also helps you to identify those emotions you may be numbing and the addictive behaviours which keep you comfortably numb. Find the pain. Release it. Cry. Breathe. Find the one. The 361.

Alice Smith 2019

#tears #crying #crybaby #ptsd #postrauma #postraumticstressdisorder #domesticabuse #domesticabusesurvivor #femaleempowerment #recovery #emotionaleducation #education #mentalhealth #mentalhealthrecovery #recovery #recoveryfromtrauma #recoveryfromabuse

Published by 361one

when I write I am a king. Listen to more at 361 live podcast

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