CRY CRY BABY
“Cry, cry, baby,” Janis sang. Janis who? Don’t worry if you’re not old enough to know who Janis is. The main point here is crying.
Reasons for crying differ. Babies cry because it’s their only means of communication. Children cry because either they’ve injured themselves or they have not learned alternate methods to deal with frustration. It’s the latter reason which gets carried from that point forward whenever we cry. Even when we do learn other ways, we still feel like crying from time to time.
Different people have different ideas about crying. Some cry at the drop of a hat, while others absolutely refuse under any circumstance. Most of us fall somewhere between. Even the stoic, resolute, non-criers still feel like it occasionally — whether they indulge or not.
Is crying bad? Well, maybe concepts like “good” and “bad” are conditional.
There are tears of joy, which are really just expressions of gratitude. They easily fall squarely in the “good” category. Crying to be manipulative has extremely negative effects on our long term relationships. Under that condition, I’d slip it into the “bad” category.
Crying to release frustration, on the other hand, might be considered “good.” I’m talking about feeling so overwhelmed with grief, sadness, frustration, fear, loss, whatever, that you just have to pause and let loose a good cry. This kind of crying is cleansing. It purges pent up feelings which create pressure within us.
Think of a tea kettle. It holds water that gets heated. When the water hits a certain temperature, it converts into steam. When the steam builds, it creates pressure. When the pressure hits a critical level, then it escapes. The pressure releases, causing that distinctive whistling sound.
Crying to release frustration is like that tea kettle. We encounter a lot of frustration through events in our daily lives. Some events bring more pressure than others, sometimes much more. That pressure builds, sometimes to a critical level, then it needs to escape. It causes that distinctive sobbing sound.
Releasing that pressure is the important thing here. If you have pressure pushing outward, you’re stuck with that pressure consuming all the available space which could be used more constructively. You’re not able to let anything else in — like joy or excitement.
Pressure also restricts movement. If you lay flat on the ground and place a heavy book on your chest, the pressure makes it harder to breathe. Frustration acts in a similar way to restrict movement in your thought processes. It’s harder to think. It constricts the flow of your creativity, thereby making it harder to come up with long term solutions that may eliminate a given frustration from your life.
If you don’t release frustration, it stays embedded within your psyche, wreaking all kinds of havoc. If left intact for too long, this stress can fester and spread like a cancer, infecting otherwise healthy parts of your psyche — or worse. For example, medicine has uncovered evidence linking stress to cancer and other insidious diseases. Hence, releasing stress is paramount, not just for mental health, but for physical health too.
Crying allows frustration an outlet to release in a safe and controlled way. It may not be manly or appear lady-like, but it sure beats damaging our minds, bodies, and spirits. So, “Cry, cry, baby!”
If you're enjoying this over coffee, tea, or whatever, please consider buying me a cup!CHILD REARING
I arrive early enough for dinner that I’m seated close to a window. This allows me to watch for my date’s arrival and observe him unawares. I’m on the lookout for subtle, nonverbal loser clues that usually don’t crop up until after I marry the guy.
I have a good fifteen minutes to sit back, observe and take in the ambiance of AJ’s Japanese Steakhouse. The wait staff, with their kimonos and fake samurai swords, flutter about. There’s a large man shouting orders.
That must be AJ. He nods curtly at me, tipping an imaginary hat as he murmurs a polite, southern, “Ma’am.” This throws me off, as I somehow don’t expect a southern accent to emanate from an Asian-looking person.
The restaurant has large tables, each surrounding a central cooking station. Normally, I dislike having to share a table with strangers. It makes me self-conscious of my chopstick skills. But this restaurant was my date, Brent’s, pick. Since I was in the early stages of dating behavior, I’d been too polite to protest.
I decide to have a drink and wave a wayward samurai over to order sake. I’d met Brent at an evening networking event, so I was nervous about what impression I’d make in the light of day.
Just then a pleasant-looking couple with a child walk in. I freeze, halfway through the process of bringing the sake cup to my lips. I know they’ll be seated at my table, just like I know the kid will sit next to me.
Sure enough, they head my way. I put the drink down. The boy plops himself right down next to me. His mouth is smeared with a gooey, blue substance that makes him look like a little goblin.
The husband addresses me with a hearty,”Hello there! I’m Ted Burman and this here is the wife, Sal. This is our boy, Billy. Sal and I are professors at the community college.” He holds out his hand, grinning like he’s just been Born Again.
“Hi, nice to meet you.” I shake his hand, but don’t offer my name. Billy is busy acquainting himself with my water glass and napkin. He grabs the chopsticks, still encased in their virginal paper sleeve, and starts beating them on the table.
“You see, Teddy, I knew our Billy had musical talent!” Sal beams at her spawn with pride.
“Billy, sorry, but I need those.” I reach over, smiling so much my face hurts. Billy stops and I gently ease the chopsticks from his hands. He starts to cry. Ted pats Billy on the back, who’s now crying so hard that everyone in the restaurant is staring.
“Miss, I think it’s pretty mean to take those chopsticks away from Billy like that.” Ted addresses me like I’m an errant student.
“Well, I think it’s pretty mean for you to expect me to tolerate your child’s behavior, Ted.” I say this calmly, but Ted’s face reddens like I slapped him.
“It’s not cute. It’s ill manners. But I don’t blame the child. I just won’t put up with it.” I rise to leave.
“We won’t put up with you, either.” Ted jumps up, wanting to be the first to go, apparently. Sal hustles over and extracts the now screaming, squirming Billy from his seat.
Billy kicks. His dirty sneaker connects with my forgotten sake, which connects with my dress. I’m now covered with dripping sake. The Burmans pause in their flight.
“Perfect.” I head for the door. AJ looks like he’s ready to intercept me, but the look on my face stops him dead. He smiles serenely as I storm by.
“Come back to see us soon!” He waves cheerily in my wake.
Brent is walking up to the door just as I’m coming out. He starts to open his mouth.
“Don’t even ask.” I sail past him and Brent hurries to catch up.
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