Confessions Of A Chronic Crier

Illustration courtesy of @ninacosford. from her book “My name is Girl” which you can purchase here!

I’ve always been a crier. Whether it be the music video to a song that means a lot to me, an adorable child singer on Britain’s Got Talent, or even a particularly heart-string-tugging advert, there’s rarely an occasion, happy or sad, that I won’t have cried at least a little. I’ve been aware that I feel things very deeply, but it was only when I reached my teens and young adulthood that I realised controlling my emotions was something I found a little harder than those around me. Before receiving any of my mental health diagnoses, I assumed I was just a little shy and quite a lot introverted. After all, there’s nothing that screams ‘emotional wreck’ quite like crying for hours after receiving a ‘red sticker’ in year 7 (the absolute be all and end all of my school punishment system which meant I was one third of the way (!!) to a detention) for forgetting my history book. Still not over it.

Whilst secondary school filled me with the usual fear that any shy person will have experienced (who willingly puts their hand up to answer a question?!), it was during sixth form and university when the crying really kicked in. Nothing had prepared my perfectionist self for the personal expectations I’d attach to my academic success, and the self-worth confusion that would come with rewarding myself (in the form of food or breaks from studying) only when I felt I deserved it. Perhaps its this confusion of emotion and success that often leaves me crying when life unsurprisingly gets in the way sometimes, but it’s hard to unravel a pattern of emotional reactions that I feel have always been with me.

It was during this time that I realised the many forms of crying I can experience, and in a surprising number of locations too. I really wish I’d considered earlier the Instagram potential of documenting my crying at popular landmarks or on special occasions, because really any scrapbook of my life would be false to not include these moments. And not only am I so often overwhelmed enough to cry in front of strangers on public transport, on a sun lounger at the beach, or on nights out whilst rummaging for change for my 2am chips, I’ve come to notice the many versions of crying that have their own positive and negative traits. There’s the ugly crying, the loud crying, the angry, hot tears crying, the panicked and short of breath crying, the happy tears that seem to roll far more gracefully than any others, the embarrassed, secretive crying, the ‘WOW I’m depressed today’ crying, and the most recent addition- the therapy crying.

Once I had my anxiety diagnosis, things started to make sense. It provided an explanation as to why making mistakes was such a fear for me, why a particularly long phone call would see me rehearse for 10 minutes before breaking a sweat and punching the numbers into the keypad, and why any argument, mild or major, would see my eyes sting, cheeks flush and tears begin to roll. And so whilst therapy has been a sporadic trend in my life over the past few years, it has taught me more than anything the power that can be found in vulnerability, and in being the most authentic version of myself, no matter the emotional reaction.

Now back in therapy for the third time, it makes me wonder how I went so long without it. I’ve found things out about myself I was sure I had figured out, and despite some sessions feeling a drag and occasionally a waste of time, I don’t think I’ve ever left a meeting feeling like I haven’t experienced some degree of growth or emotional ‘glo up’. If therapy has taught me anything, it’s the validity and power of my emotional reactions- neither of which should be underestimated.

And so I’ve stopped avoiding the conversations I predict will be hard, I’ve let myself cry on public transport without staring fiercely out of the window in the hope that my tears will dry up, and most of all, I’ve accepted that sensitivity is, and probably always will be, a huge and defining part of me. I’ve surrounded myself with positive online influences who celebrate the successes that can be found in sensitivity, and I’ve changed my mindset to celebrate the moments I can feel empathy, compassion and love for myself and others, that might be hard for those less in tune with their emotions. I’ve made a point of explaining my feelings, not expecting others to immediately understand what may to them be an ‘over reaction’, and most of all, I’ve learnt that sensitivity is my best and most defining super power.