Everything Makes Me Cry…
Vulnerability and the midlife waterworks. Plus, lots of mood salad links including more good news for menopause research.
As a little kid, football-loving tomboy that I was, I cried whenever the Miami Dolphins lost (which was often, and long before Hootie & the Blowfish admitted to same!). I think it drove my father a bit crazy- he was never happy when they lost either, and I’m guessing that a crying kid compounded his frustration. He was an old school, “I’ll give you something to cry about” sort, but under his hard shell dwelled a complicated and sensitive man whose bark was much louder than his bite. Still, I wonder if his, shall we say, challenged capacity to tolerate those feelings led to the stoicism I have shown for the better part of my life— until recently.
I entered my teenage years still demonstrably emotional, and shed dramatic, projectile tears when I didn’t make the cheerleading squad in 9th grade. I was crushed. It was not the first time the world had said “no” and it would most certainly not be the last. However, I quickly recovered and ran for student council, winning a spot as class vice president, an office I held through my junior year. Letting go of one early dream and finding something else to fuel me was likely where my grown up perspective began to form.
I’m not sure what shifted in me back then- maybe it was the early iteration of that budding perspective and my new-found knowledge that unexpected and good things can spring from perceived failure. Or maybe, more likely, it was a Psychology 101 defense mechanism, a way to protect myself from feeling icky feelings. But somewhere along the line, even as I charged through late puberty, tears became a much less frequent occurrence.
I watched as all of my friends cried at our high school graduation, but my eyes were dry. It’s not that I didn’t feel something. The truth is I’ve always been deeply sensitive, and a serious internalizer. But I didn’t have the same external emotional response as the others. As a young adult I didn’t cry at either of my weddings (the first at 25 years old, the second at 38) although my 8 year old step-son brought me to my knees a time or two in those early days! I didn’t cry when I got divorced from that first husband (but I’m pretty sure there would have been a whole lot of tears if I had stayed!).
In fact, my crying was so infrequent that I can remember very specifically the times I did let it flow hard- in college I fell apart watching the movie Beaches with Bette Midler and Barbara Hershey- my friend and I couldn’t even leave the theater we were such a mess. Anyone else?? I also cried for what I think was the entirety of a weekend when I thought my now husband and I were breaking up before we were married. But those occasions were few and far between (because cutting onions doesn’t count here), and I probably should have stayed in therapy back then far longer than I did (for the record I don’t remember crying on that couch either).
As a young attorney, there was certainly no crying if one wanted to be taken seriously. I can recall a very stressful evening when I was working at a big firm, no longer as an attorney but as a manager, and I broke. But it was a controlled break, and not a tear fell until I was safely tucked behind the closed door of my office as I muffled my stress sobs. I prided myself on being strong and independent, and crying did not fit that narrative or society’s idea of what that looked like.
There have always been certain songs that get to me- music is like some sort of sensory express lane to my depths. But until recently, even through perimenopause and the death of my father, tears have not come easily.
But now, ALL bets are off. Now, I am a human tear duct.
Maybe it’s growth, maybe it’s the indelible impact of grief, or maybe it’s just that I’ve reached a point in life where I understand in a very real way (putting aside the mystical) that all we get is right here, right now. And when that reality is part of your consciousness, it tends to make you hyper-aware. It amplifies all of the feelings. It’s probably some confluence of all of those things, and the fact that the world we live in can be hard to take some days. Whatever it is, midlife has cracked me wide open. And to tell you the truth, I’m not mad about it.
Crying now comes naturally and spontaneously. It’s typically not indicative of sadness. Sometimes it is, but more often, it’s something else. Love. Joy. Nostalgia. In some moments it’s just the way the passage of time hits me. The other day I was on the subway and saw a mom and her young daughter holding hands and whispering to each other. Cue the tears. Last week I went to visit the place on Biscayne Bay where I spread some of my mom’s ashes, and there was a random shell (we spent my childhood Sundays shelling together) on a normally empty dock. Waterworks. Billie Eilish singing What Was I Made For, any time, anywhere. UGLY crying. Movies with happy endings. Movies with sad endings. Poems. Book passages. Sniff, sniff, sniff.
Sometimes it’s hard to parse why the tears start to flow. Last weekend I was at my nephew’s wedding, and my oldest step-son, now almost 30, officiated. When I saw him standing up there, that same 8-year-old that once brought me to my knees, I felt a heavy mix of love, pride and nostalgia. Then the violins started to play, and even before a single person walked down that aisle, I was off to the races. An Olympic cryer. With two tissues to my name. Oyyy. Don’t even ask about the vows. Witnessing all of that love, the support of everyone in that room, and my stepson so meaningfully weaving it all together overwhelmed me in the most beautiful of ways.
Ultimately, I think I’m just more okay these days with allowing myself to be vulnerable. What I used to perceive as weakness, I now understand to be strength. I spent a lot of my early years very guarded, protecting myself from exposure, worried what people might think if they saw all of my imperfect parts. Worried I would get hurt. Trying to control, well, everything. But I realize now just how much energy it took to hold up that shield, and how it interfered in some ways with my ability to truly connect. Now that I’ve laid it down, I may be a bit soggier, but even through tears I see very clearly that vulnerability is actually the secret sauce of connection. We have to be willing to let others see us in order to forge real, meaningful bonds.
The brilliant Brené Brown says that “vulnerability is the birthplace of love, belonging, joy, courage, empathy, and creativity.” I say bring it on, even if that means having to stuff little tissue packets into every single pocket and purse…
Mood Salad Links:
If read my menopause cheat sheet you know that a flawed study from more than 20 years ago caused great alarm about the use of hormone therapy. But a new study confirms what many menopause docs have been saying- that the benefits of hormone therapy outweigh the risks. (via NPR)
Speaking of hormone therapy, read how how one woman (who happens to be a friend!) got the help she needed, and the 5 things she wished she knew before starting HRT. P.S. check out her platform The Midlife Truth Project for thought- provoking, honest conversations about being a woman in midlife. (via Katie Couric Media)
Did you know that what and when you eat may impact your sleep? Early bird special here I come! (via WSJ)
Inside the brains of super-agers, and note, being active in middle age is a factor. (via NYT gift link)
On the topic of brains, here’s a look at how women’s brains change at midlife. This is a good one and features the incredible work of Dr. Lisa Mosconi. (via WAPO gift link)
I was so excited to read about a new, bipartisan $275 million menopause bill was unveiled this week to boost federal research, physician training and public awareness. (Via WAPO gift link)
And finally, a funny from Wendi Aarons (she of the hilarious I’m Wearing Tunics Now) and Emily Flake to send you laughing into the weekend! (via The New Yorker)
As always, thank you for reading! I’m so grateful you are here (even just thinking about that makes me cry!) and love hearing from you, so drop a comment or a ❤️ if the spirit moves you! And if you know someone who might enjoy, please share and help us grow this community! Have a wonderful weekend… Dina xx
Great read and I can relate to so much. Aah, Beaches. Although an amazing movie on all levels, I can’t watch it again. I can watch other ‘tear jerkers’ more than once but this one hurts deep.
Just read yesterday the menopause findings and new bill 👍 so grateful to hear all of this good news while I’m actually going through it!
The mother and daughter. How could you not, my lovely friend. Here with tissues always. Or froze when those won’t cut it.