Throughout most of my life, I regarded crying as a sign of weakness. Just as men often don’t like to cry, I saw crying as a symbol of sensitivity and fragility. Whenever I found myself needing a good cry, I would lock myself in my room and let it all out–let out the pain, let out the suffering, let out the anger. I would cry so much that it felt as if a gallon of water was pouring out of me, as if weight was physically being lifted off of my shoulders. I thought that the only reason I should cry was out of anger or pain.
But I have since learned that sometimes I need to cry just to cry–and that that’s okay.