Screw the cultural cowardice you’ve been fed. Cry if you feel like crying.
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Men,
When was the last time you cried? Alone? In front of others?
Like when your child spontaneously gives you a hug and says, “I love you, dad,” despite the worry that echoes in your mind that you’ve done them more harm than good.
Like when you ponder the wreckage of your heart and why, after finally finding the courage, you offered it to circumstances guaranteed to make you question your sanity and cause the most suffering possible.
Like when you are driving in your car, lost in your thoughts, and the song that’s playing strums a deep ache, beckoning it to spill out with its lyrical melody, compelling you to sing along through your tears.
Like when someone asks for your help with an intimately vulnerable situation, because they thought of you first, because they trust you more than you trust yourself.
Like when you see an act of love that restores your faith in humanity.
Like when it all seems too much, that confidence has abandoned you.
Like when you are appreciated for just being the person you are, to be told your messy life is an inspiration.
Like when you apologize and receive a warm smile and a hug.
Like when you are grateful to have experienced love like a violent thunderstorm, like a wildfire, like an avalanche, the landscape of your heart irrevocably changed.
Like the type of deep sobbing that sounds more like a howl, when rivers of snot run from nose to wailing mouth but you don’t give a shit, because you’ve chosen to live true and accept all the loss and uncertainly bound to such a decision, because you did it for no one else but yourself, because it’s terrifying.
When?
I did all of these in the last week.
It’s okay to feel. You aren’t weak. Don’t let anyone tell you different.
Cry, motherfucker, cry.
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Photo credit: Anders Ljungberg
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