Inside: Some people cry a lot; others don’t. If you’re someone who doesn’t, take comfort in knowing you’re not alone. ~
We all express grief differently.
This might be obvious, but I think it’s worth noting. Especially for those of us whose grief doesn’t always involve a lot of tears.
We seem to be on the far end of a pendulum swing when it comes to emotions, don’t we? Years ago, tears were a sign of weakness, not humanness. Parents of Gen Xers like me were more apt to say things like, “Stop crying or I’ll give you something to cry about.”
The Opposite Extreme
The logic of that statement is questionable, to say the least. Now, however, in some settings it seems as if every emotion is worth exploring to the fullest extent possible, no matter the root cause, the circumstances, or whether the person feeling the feelings might simply be hungry or tired.
Particularly when it comes to grief but also in other areas, it seems like some people want all their feelings to be been seen, felt and affirmed by everyone.
This isn’t actually possible in the real world, of course. Each of us have a whole batch of stuff we are dealing with, and although we try to be sensitive to other people’s feelings, it’s literally impossible to notice everything about everyone else.
I’m guessing there’s a happy medium between the extreme ends of the feelings pendulum, though I’m not sure where it is. All I know is this: if people who cry easily felt misunderstood or embarrassed back in the stiff-upper-lip days, those who don’t express grief that way now may be the ones who feel as if there is something wrong with them.
Not the Only One
There’s no shame in crying buckets of hot tears or sobbing until gobs of snot roll down your face, as I’ve seen some authors put it. But that’s generally not how it works with me, and perhaps not with you either.
Maybe you are quieter, emotionally. But you’re still plugging along, still grieving in your own ways, which perhaps are not like the ways some voices on social media seem to be expressing their emotions.
If so, you are not the only one. I hope just knowing that provides a little bit of comfort, no matter what you are going through today.
And here’s something else to remember. Even if we tend to be pretty laid back when it comes to overt displays of emotion, the way we respond to sad seasons varies over our lifetimes. We may have seasons of many unexpected tears, and seasons when the tears simply dry up.
As we live, we grieve, is how I like to put it.
Other Outlets
Tears aren’t the only outlet for grief, of course. Some may sweat it out at the gym or on the running trail. Others find solace in kneading dough, ripping out Sheetrock or digging in the dirt.
For me, in the months and even for a few years after my parents died, my outlet was worship at church. The music would start and my eyes would start watering, especially when I heard the first chords of one of the hymns I remember so well from my childhood.
I wouldn’t exactly call it crying. But whatever it was, it helped.
My family grew to expect this during 2020 when we were watching church on TV in our basement family room. They put out the tissues and just let it happen.
When we went back to in-person church, my weekly face-watering sessions continued. I don’t know if anyone around me ever noticed. But God saw. And—comfort of all comforts—the One who wired me with this pressure relief valve collected every tear in His bottle (Psalm 56:8).
Divine TLC
Gradually, my Sunday tears dried up. Not long ago, though, my daughter’s friend who was visiting for the weekend started playing hymns on the piano in our living room. As I folded laundry in my nearby bedroom, I felt my nose get red and my eyes well up.
Once again, it was a sign of God’s tender care. As Psalm 147:3 puts it, our loving heavenly Father “heals the brokenhearted and binds up their wounds.”
I’m so thankful the healing comes for each of us in a way only He can orchestrate.
• • •
Whether you are a crier or not, I’d love to know if you have experienced emotions differently at different seasons of your life, and what that has looked like for you. Please share in the comments.
♥ Lois
The way we respond to sad seasons may vary over our lifetimes. We may have seasons of many unexpected tears, and seasons when the tears simply dry up. Share on X Tears aren't the only outlet for grief, of course. Some may sweat it out at the gym or on the running trail. Others find solace in kneading dough, ripping out Sheetrock or digging in the dirt. Share on XP.S. I’m linking up this week with #tellhisstory, InstaEncouragements, Let’s Have Coffee and Grace & Truth.
18 comments
I love that you’ve given us lovely permission and encouragement to grieve in whatever ways God has shaped us to do this usually unwanted task. It’s the not grieving, the stuffing it all inside that does the damage.
I guess I’ve learned over time not to be surprised when and how she comes to call and allow her to visit with me for however long she thinks best. I do feel lighter and more hopeful and free-er when our time together is finished.
I feel the same way, Linda. To know that these moments will happen, that we will survive them and perhaps even feel better afterwards, and that we don’t have to live up to anyone else’s way of doing it … it sure does relieve at least some of the pressure, doesn’t it?
Sometimes I wish I didn’t cry so easily. I got caught up on episode 1 of the new season of American Idol tonight and, for reasons I can’t quite explain, it always makes me cry. It just feels so intimate watching people lay bare their souls and sing in front of other people. That vulnerability, in addition to the beauty of the music, is just so touching. Some of my friends are criers and some are not, but it makes no difference to me. 🙂
Aw, Lisa … I can see why American Idol makes you cry. I love how we each have different things that evoke emotion–whatever it looks like–for us. 🙂
I love that the Lord knows what comfort looks like for each of us, and meets us in those ways. I’m grateful for friends like you who are also unlikely to cry buckets of tears – it does help when I feel like something is wrong with me for experiencing grief in drier ways haha. But guess what? Same about wet eyes in worship when I’m struggling and grieving. Something else we have in common. 🙂 Grateful for you, friend!
Bethany, I’m so glad God places people in our lives, both near and far, who understand us. Grateful for you too!
Lois, this is a compassionate reminder for us all to be careful how we view the lives of other people. We truly may not recognize their pain or grief by their outer composure. There have been seasons in my life when I was a crier, and then there are seasons, where crying was not an option. I had to hold it together. I’m grateful the Lord sees our every emotion and brings healing and comfort in His way and in His time. “I’m so thankful the healing comes for each of us in a way only He can orchestrate.” Amen, friend.
That’s so true, Joanne, that we may not recognize other people’s “pain or grief by their outer composure.” Which makes it even more comforting to remember that God DOES see and understand. Hugs, friend.
Thank you for your loving sensitivity here, Lois. “Each of us have a whole batch of stuff we are dealing with” and each of us deals with grief in their own way. So true.
This brings up memories for me from the time I was a little girl with a terrible earache and the doctor told me to SHUT UP when I was crying. (My mom never took me back to that doctor again.) To the time of sobbing when no one believed me or understood me, and someone told me to STOP IT. As I worked through stuff, my crying was mostly to trusted people and in private to God. Nowadays it’s more tears welling up while my heart cries buckets.
In a rare moment, my dad once shared how people judged him for not caring, for smiling instead of crying at funerals. He was one who would smile out of nervousness while inside he was hurting. I’ve found myself doing that plenty of times in my life, too.
Thank you for all your empathetic posts concerning grieving, my friend. Love and hugs and blessings to you!
Oh Trudy, thank you for sharing your tender experiences and memories about tears. I’m so sorry for the doctor’s harsh words about something so painful, and that someone told you to stop crying when no one believed or understood you. Your dad’s story is a good reminder of how we just don’t know the true story about anyone’s reactions, isn’t it? I am so grateful for your encouragement and perspectives. Hugs and love to you too!
I really don’t like to emote in front of others. I’m not sure all the reasons why, though I have a theory. I’m generally more inclined to tear up rather than have an all-out sob session, but that happens occasionally (and in private).
I’ve heard similar things said about salvation and repentance–that some are really emotional during those experiences, but others are not. Tears aren’t a good measuring stick in any of these areas.
I agree, Barbara. When I was much younger, I didn’t cry much but wedding scenes in movies always got me. Now, I’m more likely to tear up at other things. Probably due to more life experience, I suppose. Thanks for sharing your thoughts about this.
I love this! It’s funny that one of my posts this week was about grieving also. There’s no rhyme or reason to it sometimes. I’m so glad the Lord carries us through!😊
I’m glad for that too, Susan. (We must be on the same wavelength this week!)
Wow. Love this, Lois. I’ve noticed some differences in different stages of my life, but I wouldn’t say I’m a crier either. I’ve felt like I’m doing something wrong when I’m not crying in some settings, but most of that was probably me.
Aw, Ashley … isn’t it comforting to remember there’s not a single right or wrong to grieve? Hugs, friend.
You’ve made an important point, because I think there’s a tendency to “measure” grief and intensity of feeling by visible, outward responses. I feel things very deeply, but I’m not a crier and never have been.
Me too, Michele. There is no one scale for any of this, for grievers or onlookers.