Photo by Kelly Sikkema on Unsplash
A client and I were chatting about the things we are working on, what we’ve been noticing, practicing, and how often we are reminded of the work it takes to grow. We were talking about how we want to show up differently, when I said, “I’m really good at crying for other people, but not so much for myself.” He said, “I think that is crying for yourself.” It stopped me. I hadn’t considered this.
For a millisecond, I wanted to deny this. Nah, really, I just feel deeply for others. But then I took a breath and took in what he said.
He was right.
I tear up over anything from a commercial to the human struggle and grittiness of a wheelchair marathon participant. All of this time, I’ve considered this a deep empathy that I have. If you ask anyone in my life, they have seen this part of me. Tearing up is easy. Sharing the deeper feelings, well, that is a different story.
As I was watching one of my favorite shows of all time, there is a scene in Heated Rivalry (a love story about two gay hockey players) that is played out by a mother and her son. The mom has just learned that her son is gay, and as he is apologizing, she is wrought with the guilt of not ever giving him the space to feel like he could come out to her. It is such a tender scene and every single time I see it (I have watched it an embarrassing amount of times) or even think about it, I well up.
Now, I don’t have a son who has come out to me, and for a long time, I thought this scene made me cry because of her and how terrible she must have felt. How devastating it must feel to realize that for years you’ve denied the space your child needed to simply be himself. She has such shame and guilt, it overwhelms her, and as she asks for forgiveness, she and her son embrace as he does.
But since my client pointed out to me that my tears may have less to do with the other and more to do with me, I’m pretty much on hyper alert for the deeper message whenever I cry. I now reflect on what I feel guilty about in the containers of my relationships.
So I’ve started asking myself some harder questions.
What have I not allowed space for?
What were my unmet expectations of these relationships?
What have I been dismissive of?
When have I felt disappointment in a relationship and what is this really telling me?
We put all kinds of containers around our relationships. Parameters. Expectations. And crying, it turns out, might just be the thing that tells you where the container has gotten too small. Crying is relational, human, and a deep felt sense. It turns out I’ve been thinking more than I have been feeling.
Taking crying out of the head center and putting it back in the heart is where the real growth happens.
