Crying Like A Baby May Make You a Man
Sometimes ocean water spurts from my eyes. Tears dribble like lost puppies looking for a home underneath my chin, causing salty streaks of sadness on my face. Crying about everything and nothing at the same time as my corneas are washed by an internal releasing from ducts whose sole purpose is to drain and cleanse.
Think about that for a moment. A salty substance pours out of your eyeballs. Our bodies were designed to cry. Maybe that is what separates us from the animal kingdom? Sure other animals have moisture produced by their eyes for practical purposes, but no other species can exhibit the drama of sobbing. Ummmm, am I totally on to something? Did I just become the next Martha Mead or what?
Although crying can make you flounder in your torments and flap through your agonies, when you finally pass through the self-pity you feel euphoric. It is as if you accomplished something grueling and challenging and came out the other side. A good cry has the orgasmic residue of 6 sneezes in a Jacuzzi, and you always feel slightly better once the shivering has subsided.
But often times when someone is crying you want them to stop. It is stressful to watch someone you love weep. When The Munch starts crying I immediately try and figure out how to distract her from her wailing. I will go to great lengths to sooth her soul and make her smile again, but maybe that is not always the best thing? The other day when my friend Gita was visiting I was going through a hard time and pretty much lost it. We just sat on the couch and I cried and cried and told her all my woes of the past, present, and future. She didn’t try to stop me, or give me suggestions, or solve my problems. She just listened. When I finally tired myself out I felt amazing! Even though my problems were the same, it was like I expelled the demon of how it all was affecting me.
So this morning when The Munch was crying because she wanted me to carry her into the bathroom so she could sit on my lap while I peed, I decided I was gonna not do that. I didn’t want to rob her of the impact of a good cry, and figured she could work this out. I figured she would eventually stop, feel really hopeful about life, and realize that there are better things to do then accompanying me to urinate. But you know what? She didn’t stop at all… she just got more and more worked up until I had to give her an ice cream popsicle for breakfast. Maybe she just really likes to pee with me?
“Mmmmmmm morning ice cream!”