All Cried Out
It was one very hot summer night and I was done with my second strenuous workout of the day. I sat in my car too exhausted to even change out of my sweat saturated clothes into something dry. All I wanted was to close my eyes and stay there. And I did.
I closed my eyes and the tears started pouring. They covered my face and fell on my bare legs. I did nothing to stop them. I cried.
There was no reason, nothing upsetting in those sobs but I cried and kept crying. Then it stopped. I wiped my eyes and drove home feeling lighter. No aftermath. All gone.
I’ve seen people cry at the end of a marathon. I don’t know if they cry because they are elated for the accomplishment or disappointed with the experience. I have never cried for no reason, but I have cried for many reasons.
There have been times when I cried like I did that night, uncontrollable sobs seeking a catharsis that never came. I cried hoping to get cried out so I wouldn’t cry again. Days when I waited for the privacy of my car to cry, and many times the tears assaulted me before I made it that far. And when there were more tears left, I cried on my pillow.
I never got cried out. I never found the catharsis of a good cry. And every day, in the bathroom where I hid to cry, I’d pray that it would end one day. It didn’t. Not for a long time.
I cried many tears.
Those tears had something about them. They are like yawning, if I think about it, the feeling is back. Not because I am there in grief but because the ache of that moment was so incredibly enormous that thinking about how I felt, brings tears to my eyes. So, I don’t think about it.
Maybe I’m finally all cried out.
3 years ago