I Cried, for the First Time

No, not just now. Nor recently. More like over a year ago.

In the previous post I mentioned that I would be writing post ideas that have been swimming in my head for a while. No, I have not been dwelling on the crying continuously for a year. Actually, it is something I have only recently remembered and realized.

As long term readers will recall, the first and last time, I cried was a day or so after the first abortion. The following excerpt is from "Damn! That Hurt!";

...The only thing I clearly remember after that was going to a Wal-Mart with my mother.  We were in line waiting to purchase our items.  Behind us was a couple about my age.  They had a baby in a stroller with them.  The baby was crying.  Basic fussing, like babies do, not causing too much of a scene.  I was about ready to burst into tears.  I asked my mother for the car keys to wait in the car.I bolted out of that store so fast.  The moment I got in the car I bawled like never before.  Tears streaming down my face and hyperventilating in my breathing.  My mother got in the car.  Asked me what was wrong.  Really?  She couldn't put the two together?  I said something to the effect of "I killed my baby" or "I will never see my baby" or both of those things.  Her response?  Oh, that's all. I thought maybe the baby was annoying you and something about I did the right thing, it was no big deal, I would get over it, etc.  Then and there I decided that the only thing to do was to be numb about the situation.

If you are new to reading this blog I would recommend that you read "The First Abortion," to be able to start at the beginning of my story.

Back to the subject at hand. I had not cried since then. I suppose it would be rather difficult to cry over something I did not remember. But even after the memories surfaced I still had that inner child crying within me. Eh, she was probably there the entire time, since the first abortion. I just refused to acknowledge her. I didn't even know why she was there. Though deep in my soul, I knew she was there.
There were times I felt like crying. But could never really bring myself to cry. Sure, there were times when I would get sniffly, maybe even a tear or two fall down my cheeks.
During the different grief sessions at the Rachel's Vineyard Retreat the other attendees did cry, when telling their stories or listening to others' stories. But I was just stoic when speaking and listening. No one judged me for not crying, nor did I judge others for crying. There may have been a moment of self judging myself for not crying. "What's wrong with you, do you have no feeling?"
It was when I was going through a particular rough patch at the beginning of last year, 2017, when I did finally cry. I had been switching between bouts of anger (angry at who or what I do not know) and extreme sadness. One night, late at night, in late January or early February I went on a video binge on YouTube. Searching for all the saddest and most painful songs I could find.

It was then I finally let the tears fall in a sweet sweet release! Everything, the pent up feelings for the past twenty-two years finally came bursting out. Every ounce of moisture being released from my eyes. Face completely wet. Puffy eyes. All of it. Was this the first time crying ever within those years that I had cried? That heavy? I am not sure. I probably had cried, a time or two, over something unrelated. But I really don't recall crying like that.

I never really felt the need to talk of it. I never thought there was any significance in it. But I truly believe this was a major pivotal point in my healing. Probably not a first step, but definitely a huge step, even leap, in my journey to getting up and dusting off.