I cry more than (an) average (person does).
If I start thinking about (things such as) passing of a close one, I start weeping at once (these episodes take place mostly when I can’t sleep). Other times I cry when I listen to moving music or dialogue or read touching excerpt from a novel or elsewhere.
I may also tear up when I am moved by someone’s experiences (my empathy acts up then).
Hence I suppose I cry more than average.
But do I cry when I am feeling the shittiest? No.
When I am feeling horrible, generally I’m in immediate danger. I need to be focused, vigilant and proactive in a fix like that; I can’t afford to give in to my feelings. But once I am through the trough, I earn the privilege of letting go.
When I got sick, I felt intense physical and emotional pain/agony, yet I only cried when things got a bit easy. The tears gave way once during dialysis, a couple times in my sick-bed, and at another instance when my mother came over to meet me.
The dialysis technician was a sweet, emphatic Oriya guy. When he saw me weeping, he said I was AKD and not CKD, and I didn’t need to worry too much. According to him, I would attain an orderly kidney function in a few days. It calmed me down for a bit. I didn’t have a clear idea about my condition and everything happened so quickly……
The AKD-CKD dilemma really bothered me. The doctors referred to me as a CKD (patient) whereas my father kept telling me I was an AKD (patient). It turned out I was the former who was to lose all kidney function eventually. Even so, the consolation by the technician was a nice touch.
When I cried in the ICU (a few times), the staff could clearly notice it, but they didn’t react. They must know, in their position that it would make me feel awkward if they did something. Right approach. They, however knew I needed support, and did what they could.
The world has a way of balancing things out. When you are down, it sends someone to share your torment, making it a little bit better. There is a warm feeling inside. Someone cares.
My life had changed (too) much and (too) fast. Every day came with a fresh basket of setbacks. Hospitals, anyways, are really inconvenient places; you can’t even shit by yourself. My mother came to meet me each morning. At one such instance, I wept. It was good for me, but surely cruel for her. Her child told her he felt helpless, that he had given up, and the people in the hospital were not considerate enough. My heart got lighter, but hers must have turned to lead.
She said I could tell her anything; expressing my feelings to her was the right thing to do. But was she not supposed to say these things? I felt vindicated as surely, I was suffering more than her. Are we so sure? They say the mother suffers more than her suffering child. I hope it didn’t hurt her too much.
There was another time I gave my feelings away; I forgot about this one. Daddy (father’s brother) came to meet me. He told me I was very brave. I replied I was not, and I had reached my breaking point. He didn’t say anything; there was nothing to be said.
When do people cry? I don’t know. But I cry a fair bit. It calms me down and helps me reflect. It mellows my aching heart, and serves me in more ways than I understand……..
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