Crying Is Therapeutic

I don't normally burst out into tears unexpectedly.  Of course, I used to do it quite often back when I was a control-freak child.  The slightest change to the plan used to let loose the overflow of salty water. Crying is exhausting, and I think I used to view it as a sign of weakness.  Maybe that's why I avoided talking to people about things that bothered me.  Because I knew that if I did start expressing my thoughts, I wouldn't be able to get all the words out through my choked-up tears.  I seem to have gotten past that combination with years of practice and experience.  I can now explain what's going on, for the most part, without dissolving behind a mist.  I've also become an excellent letter writer.  I've discovered that putting my thoughts on paper allows me to get all the emotions and inter-connected thoughts out before I am interrupted by someone else's questions or comments.  I find it much easier to express my feelings through the written word rather than vocally.  Plus, there is a much lower risk of crying when I'm not immediately discussing whatever the problem may be.


All of which means that when I do start crying unexpectedly, it generally means something.  Generally, it's just that I am deeply connected to whatever I'm seeing or hearing (such as when I watched "For Greater Glory").  Which makes it disconcerting to me when I'm just sitting not thinking about anything in particular, and all of a sudden, the tears start flowing.  Partially, I'm reluctant to admit that I don't have as great a grasp of control on my life as I'd like to believe.  Mostly, though, I'm simply astonished by how much current life events are really shaking me.  I'm on the cusp of a new life adventure.  I'm moving 2000 miles from everyone I know.  I've lived in two places my entire life.  The thought of leaving my core group of friends and doubling the geographical distance between me and my family is overwhelming, to say the least.  Of course, it doesn't help matters that I've finally begun leaving my cave and started hanging out with people on a regular basis.  I'm making new friends, and I have to leave them all behind.


Of course, knowing that this move is the next step on God's plan for my life helps a lot.  As does the knowledge that I can place all my worry in His hands.  But I'm still human, and whether I choose to admit it or not, I'm worried . . . okay, we'll call it what it is.  I'm terrified.  Extremely excited (mostly) as well, but terrified nonetheless.  And I guess that's where the crying comes in.  Crying releases the pent-up emotions (oftentimes ones of which I am unaware) in a way that allows me to admit how weak and frail I am on my own.  They allow me to accept the fact that growing up and moving forward is painful.  They open the gate to humility and the chance, once more, to place my worries and cares in God's hands.  Now if I could only remember all of this while I'm crying.  Practice makes perfect, I suppose.