I don’t cry anymore. At least it appears that way. And while I know it probably shouldn’t, that bothers me. What does it say about me that I am unable to tap into the emotions that naturally trigger tears for most people? I’ve experienced the deaths of my brother, both of my parents, a lifelong mentor, a college friend, and others in the last five years, and I’ve hardly cried once. I am not consciously aware of holding back. It just doesn’t happen. And I am unable to force it. In the meantime, I see people around me, many of whom have also experienced deaths of family members, who can barely mention the deceased person’s name, even years after their passing, without welling up; clearly an involuntary reaction but one that makes their feelings visible. Then there’s me, responding with no evident emotion whatsoever. What’s wrong with me?

I’ve recently discovered the website WhatsYourGrief.com. It offers articles, resources, online courses and a blog, all on the topic of grief. Its Baltimore-based co-founders are mental health professionals who have experienced significant grief themselves. “Our goal,” they say, “is to create a community that provides hope, support, and education to anyone wishing to understand the complicated experience of life after loss.” Their article about emotional numbness rang true for me and at least made me feel like my recent “inability” to cry may be related to a more complex grieving process than I realized.

“It seems like everyone else seems pretty in touch with their feelings.  They’re crying, they’re letting it all out, they’re encouraging you to let it all out. Friends and family show up in support and say things like, ‘I can only imagine everything you must be feeling right now’ and send you cards that say, ‘tears are a reflection of love,’ and you feel guilty because you’re not crying.”

“You know you’re sad about the death, but you can’t actually access the emotions and so you feel different than others grieving the death and you worry others will think you’re apathetic and question your love for the person who has died.”

https://whatsyourgrief.com/feeling-nothing-during-grief/

Having reflected about this “dry spell,” I have also recalled, with some relief, that there have been some moments in my life lately that have spontaneously brought me to tears. For instance, certain musical passages (cue Nessun dorma sung by Luciano Pavarotti) or impromptu singing by my daughter after Thanksgiving dinner, can definitely turn on the waterworks. Or watching my sister being walked down the aisle by my brother, surrounded by all my siblings and our dad. I even had a moment at my brother’s memorial service five years ago when, having not cried yet since his passing, I confidently walked to the front of the church to read Ecclesiastes 3:1-8, only to be overcome with emotion and almost uncontrollable tears as I started reading. Totally caught me by surprise, but inside I was comforted to know the tears were still there. That I hadn’t completely dried up.

So it appears maybe this crying issue isn’t about crying as much as it is about grieving. I’m ok with that; I recognize it’s a complicated and never-ending process that is unique to each individual. I will try not to judge myself for not crying when the world expects me to cry, or compare myself to others who wear their hearts–and their tears–on their sleeves. And I intend to revisit whatsyourgrief.com again for continued support.

In the meantime, I’ll crank up Luciano and let the tears flow.