IN PRAISE OF A GOOD SOB

 Those of you who know me well know that I am a woman who does not cry easily. Maybe 3-4 times per year, and that rather hastily, grabbing a kleenex and stuffing it over my eyes so the rare tears will leak out.

 How did this happen? WTF? I am like a person of the male persuasion born after the wars, or before, who sees crying as an admission of weakness, something to stop quickly and not let others see. I think my brother cries more easily than I do!

So, what happened yesterday? Do you some times know that something crappy is cycling around your body and soul, but you don't quite know what it is? I felt a sense of depression within, a down-presser that had me running to the sea salt dark chocolate bar in the fridge to break off a big chunk and woof it down. 

That didn't help. How about a cup of tea with 2 tea bags of Earl Grey Bergamot in it and some white sugar to top it off, with milk as well? Mmm, it helped, but didn't quite erase that darkness within.

I went through my day, not bustling, prepping dinner (salmon in a mustard/maple glaze, roasted sweet potatoes with garam masala spice, and a big green salad with massaged kale from garden)

then collapsed on the sofa. How does sorrow start? Do you know? I certainly don't. I just know that darkness rose up, and I began to cry. I swore loudly about my f..king health issues, my f..king eyes, my f..king 3 cancers, my f..king chemo which gave me my f..king Autonomic Nervous System Disorder and my f..king neuropathy. You get the point. And then came the awful shaking sobs, "I miss my dad!"

Rick pulled me close, patted my head, and it helped. Our aged dog is so deaf now she did not hear me crying. Otherwise, she would have bustled over to lick any bare skin she could find.

But here's the thing: after about 15 min. of hearty crying, I felt so much better. My wobbly left eye felt washed and clean; my heart was washed and clean as well. Who knew that crying was a remedy for so much I felt was wrong in my life and my body?  Who knew?

I did some research on the internet on, "The Benefits of Crying," and found some interesting things. Did you know that crying:

--improves sleep

--reduces stress (perhaps excretes cortisol?)

--strengthens one's immune system

--improves mood & vision

And in addition to these nifty things, I found out about Japanese "Crying Clubs," or "tear-seeking" clubs, where folks watch sad movies and weep together. (Serusha Govender, from WebMD). Apparently, this culture knows more about the value of weeping than ours does.

I guess I am going to have to welcome in that wild visitor that Rumi speaks of who sweeps the house clean, blows open the shutters of one's house, and more. 

This being human is a guest house./ Every morning a new arrival.

A joy, a depression, a meanness,/ some momentary awareness comes/ as an unexpected visitor.

Welcome and entertain them all./ Even if they are a crowd of sorrows,/ who violently sweep your house/ empty of its furniture/ still, treat each guest honorably.

He may be clearing you out/ for some new delight.

The dark thought, the shame, the malice/ meet them at the door laughing, and invite them in.

Be grateful for whoever comes,/ because each has been sent/ as a guide from beyond.

I have spent too much time "butching up," being "a good sport" about all my damn health challenges, and, as I told Rick, "I am tired of doing well! I want to do badly for awhile." He assented, kissed me heartily, and we settled back into our respective cozy spaces to recover from my bout of wetness. I heartily recommend crying and sobbing as we go through this hard time; as we miss our "kids" and family; as we wish Trump and his damn cohorts would just leave, including Mnuchin who is hiding about 250 billion in relief money for those who are on the edge of being evicted and are hungry. Truly, I do believe in a hell with lots of rooms for these people. And hot, scorching fires with demons & pitchforks.