I've cried a lot the last two days, for various reasons, and it's made all the difference in my week.
I cried watching a television show set in the 70s, whose soundtrack brought me back to my father's old pinto. Driving home from a family function, lying in the back, looking up through the window at the treetops. Hearing my dad whistle along to soft rock. I just started to cry. I miss that version of us. It's gone forever because that's how time works. But I was overwhelmed with the memory, the happiness of it, the sadness of its passing and I cried.
I cried talking to a friend while doing my best to help him through a difficult decision.
I cried watching a video of a 59 year old, terminally ill chimpanzee who was reunited with her oldest human friend a week before she died. Her recognition of him broke me down and I wept.
I love to cry. It feels good. Most of the time it's an emotional celebration of something I feel deeply. Friendship, family, love, art. I tend to laugh at complex ideas executed well. I tend to cry at core concepts. Crying is healthy, it's maitenance, it's cathartic, it's empathic, it's neccessary.
Never be afriad or embarassed to cry. It's not a sign of weakness, it's a sign of bravery. It's a moment of vulnerability that leads to an unending well of strength.