Can I Cry Now?

Can I cry now? is a question that haunts me. Stuffed inside my brain is the notion that I shouldn’t feel sad, angry, anxious, or scared. If I was truly “good enough”, I would only feel positive emotions and expected to be in a constant state of Nirvana. I am a prisoner of the belief that I don’t deserve to be heard. It was a message of innate worthlessness that came with the abuse of my childhood.

Trapped

The utter powerlessness I felt at the hands of my parents fueled the feelings of worthlessness. It gave rise to a need to be in control. At first, control was my definition of strength. If only I’m strong enough, there will never be a need to cry, scream, or punch something. To keep it all under control, there is a part of me designated to trap the strong emotions and keep them bound in chains of shame and fear.

The powerlessness I felt as a youth ignites an anger that protects me from reality of the pain. Anger welds the chains wrapped around the other emotions. But the reality is that the emotions don’t go away. Instead, they just get bigger until the chains become so tight, they transform into an angry Hulk-like monster, challenging my sanity. At that point, I have two choices: I can build a fortress to try to contain the Hulk, or I can find a way to release the emotion and be free from its anger.

Building Walls

Sometimes, I build walls. Feeling all the way makes me feel very vulnerable and I want to hide. But the problem is that the walls not only keep the emotions in, but they imprison the part of me that is bound to them. And worse, the walls keep everything positive out. The fun, joy, and happiness are kept just out of my reach. Bitterness and cynicism fill the void and alienate me from anyone that might be close. The solitude can be welcoming for a while, but then the aloneness multiplies. It becomes a monster at least as scary as the Hulk I’m trying to avoid. The part of me buried with the emotion starts screaming, “Can I cry now?”

Trying to train my brain to process the emotion as it’s happening is tricky. I am so conditioned to box away anything too intense, that sometimes I’m not aware of the emotion I’m feeling until days—or even weeks—later. Even sadder than boxing up the “negative” emotions is that when joy and happiness permeate more than the surface layers, it frightens me and automatically, walls start to come up.

Oversensitive or Human?

Unlike the sadness, fear, and anxiety, these emotions don’t get bigger in the imprisonment. Instead they melt into a sadness that sinks into the depths of my soul. The depression that haunts me comes from the inability to accept or fully feel and express any intense emotion.

Keeping emotion boxed up makes me weaker, more vulnerable, and more at the mercy of the past. Not feeling does not equal being strong. Still, I hate that I have no control over the monstrous emotions that plague me. On any given day, I can go from elated to despair in a matter of minutes. Does that mean I’m oversensitive? Or does it just mean I’m human?

Befriending Emotions

In searching for answers, I found light in Bessel van der Kolk’s book, The Body Keeps the Score. He shares about the role trauma has on our minds and bodies. In sharing the science of the emotions, the guilt for being emotional is put on hold. I love this insight:

“Neuroscience research shows that the only way we can change the way we feel is by becoming aware of our inner experience and learning to befriend what is going inside ourselves.” https://www.besselvanderkolk.com/resources/the-body-keeps-the-score

The idea of befriending my emotions opens doors to finding peace and wholeness. Maybe no part of us needs to be left behind. Maybe the answer to “Can I cry now?” can be YES.