The Types of Crying

Sometimes I randomly start crying out of nowhere. It's not like the crying I do when something reminds me of Blake or I'm specifically thinking about him. This type of crying is almost like my body has decided it's too full of sadness and starts leaking out tears. It begins slowly, without consciousness or warning, and increases through my confusion. Why am I crying now? What's wrong with me?

This is a quiet process. Quiet enough that no one would notice if they weren't looking at me. So I take it as a moment to retreat into my mind for a little while. I don't try to stop the tears; I let them roll down my cheeks and create small puddles on my shirt. I am patient with myself and ride this wave of tear drops until my body decides it has released enough. 

And then it's over, just as quickly and silently as it began. 

I have discovered there are several different types of crying, each one important in its own way. Although I'm sure there are more, these are the kinds I've been experiencing the most in my grief:

There is the gut wrenching crying that comes from the pit of your stomach and makes you heave as it suffocates you with it's force. This crying let's the anger and frustration out. When you've finished with this type of crying, you are so exhausted from the energy it takes that you don't have the capacity to be mad anymore. 

Then there is confused crying. Your brain is bouncing from one thought to the next, you're wondering why, feeling helpless and hopeless. There are no real answers to any of the things you're wondering, so all you can do is cry. In some weird way this crying makes you feel better because at least now you're able to say out loud how lost you feel. And that's ok. This is the best kind of crying to do with someone else because you can bond in mutual confusion and support each other in agreement about how unfair life can seem sometimes. 

But then there's happy crying. Your heart becomes so full of gratitude that a smile can't fully convey your intense emotions. Tears tumble from your eyes as visual representations of the love that fills your heart so completely that it can't contain it anymore. These happy tears wash you clean, give you strength, let you know you're going to be alright. 

And the silent tears I talked about first? I think they serve the purpose of reminding me it's ok to feel. Even when I'm distracted by my day, moving forward with my life, they come out of no where to remind me that I'm allowed to pause. If I tried to stifle them, they'd probably turn into confused crying or even angry crying. So instead, I use them as a reminder that I'm still healing. Instead of being upset with myself for that, I respect it. I give these tears the space they need and let my body decide when it's finished. And just as suddenly as they began, they stop. 

I am thankful to my body for the ability to feel, my heart for the capacity to emote, and my mind for the understanding that all types of crying are important and necessary.