“We need never be ashamed of our tears.” Charles Dickens, Great Expectations
The last time I cried in public was when I found out in front of the congregation that the youth’s bed that they rolled down the streets of Arvada during the Harvest Festival Parade had been awarded a $750 check for most creative float. It took me totally by surprise and I started crying immediately. Someone said to me later “Never did I think I would see Marcia Canter cry in church.”
She didn’t know me very well. I cry easy. I cry when I am mad; I cry when I am extremely happy; I cry when I have a severe pain. I cry over sappy TV shows or movies, even when I’ve seen it several times. I cry when the women in Mama Mia go to comfort their friend. They start singing Dancing Queen and Meryl Streep bounces on the bed and I cry. All the women in the village run with them out to the pier and jump into the water. You can dance, they tell us, and I can dance while I cry at the same time.
There’s a game that my daughters and their cousins play when I am with my siblings. “Let’s see which aunt cries first.” The aunts and my brother will start laughing, then snorting, then crying as one tells the other “You’re so full of it.” Sometimes it’s a group event; other times someone cries solo and then we join in. I’ve noticed that even the next generation is getting tearful at times.
I have cried in frustration when I felt let down by myself or others. My voice cracks while I am saying something profound. I feel like crying when my words get lost somewhere between my fingers and the world of Dell. I cry when the words aren’t coming. Or there are too many words. Or not the right words.
One time someone in a group setting accused me of using my tears to get out of a hard situation. “Would you rather me tell you to fuck off,” I asked through some tears. I don’t remember her response but I was very angry that day. I did move on out of the situation.
I have been ashamed of tears, including the time above, but I’ve come to accept them as who I am. Crying for me can be as therapeutic as a good bath or a good dance, but at some point you do move on. Maybe it’s like those who said we’re keeping you in our thoughts and prayers at the time of the latest tragedy. Maybe that’s all they can do, but it doesn’t change the fact that we have too many hungry children, a friend that’s mourning, or gun laws that permit too many guns. You write a letter; you volunteer at a foodbank; you call the friend mourning and listen. You go back to the novel and start writing again. And maybe later, you cry again.
shoe on the other foot 
You need never to be ashamed of your tears, for it shows that you are human. I would far rather see someone cry, than never to see someone cry, as that makes me wonder if this person has an icy heart. (But you have to understand, this is from one “crier to another!)
Your right–tears or swearing–come from the same place. Have certainly done both
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Crying is ok in my book, people are supposed to have feelings, I cry more now than I used to, I think it’s a good thing.
Beautiful. Thank you. I’ve had a few weeks of tears lately.