A Good Cry

Sometimes talking to friends, family or a therapist can help. But sometimes there is still a shadow in the soul, an itch you just can't scratch. You feel restless, agitated. It might even cut into your sleep and eating patterns. When all is said and done, nothing cures my ills quite like the power of a good cry. Though it can be exhausting both during and immediately afterwards, I always feel like a little something extra has been removed from my conscience; like I can breathe again. I guess it's like the metaphor I always use about shaking a soda can and then opening it - there's only one thing it's going to do to relieve the pressure. It might not seem pleasant, but it will be taken care of.

I wish I could deal with my emotions, fears, and anxieties in a more sophisticated fashion, like I imagine everyone else doing - even though they're probably riddled with their own insecurities. But when it comes right down to it, I regress. I get scared, frustrated, feel alone and powerless until everything festers to the point of explosion. And then come the tears.

I always liken it to when you first take off in an airplane and there's lousy weather to deal with as you ascend. The plane might shake and your stomach might lurch a bit, but then there's eventually a place where you loom above the cloud cover and see the sun again. Even though I'm dealing more with turbulence right now, a good cry convinces me eventually I'll see those beams of light again.