Bipolar Thoughts

No More Tears

The last time I cried was earlier this summer. I was on the phone with my best friend since childhood talking about his suddenly deceased father. Both the impact of the loss of a monumental figure in my life and the devastation it was wrecking on someone as close to me as my own family was overwhelming.

I have never really been someone who cried a lot, at least from what I remember.

Crying is one of the symptoms of depression that people always ask about; in fact I have to answer a question about the regularity of my crying every time I see my shrink. Crying is very common amongst people who are really depressed or suicidal, which makes sense. That is when I most often feel like I might cry. But I hardly ever go over the edge. And when I do, it is even rarer that I actually roll a tear.

I cannot remember the last time I cried uncontrollably. I cried pretty hard on the night of my bachelor party, before that during a camping trip back in 2007 that I’ve written about before, before that when my mom died.

In a group therapy session there is generally a lot of crying. I imagine during personal therapy there is a good deal of crying. I dunno, I guess I just never get there.

My wife is always surprised by how little death or funerals bother me. At the funeral she told me she didn’t understand how I was acting so happy. I told her I wasn’t acting, I was around a lot of people I loved that I don’t see very often, I was happy.

I don’t know if there is some emotional disconnect there, or if my wiring is screwed up or something. I dunno if it has anything to do with the medication I take. Maybe I just gathered some perspective out of nowhere. I do not have an answer.

But I will say that I do wish it was opposite. I do wish I could cry more. Sometimes I really feel like I have to cry and just can’t. There are no movies or songs that will do it for me (although I do get choked up every year when I hear Straight No Chaser’s version of O’ Holy Night, makes me think about my mom for some reason). I just feel like I have no release, no way to get that energy out.

I always wish that the way I looked on the outside would resemble the way I felt more often. I get to points quite a bit when I feel like I should be a blathering idiot, but there I sit, stone-faced. Sometimes I want my wife to know how badly I hurt when I am lying in bed in the dark. I don’t want to have to tell her.

I am not really sure what purpose crying serves, but I am certain I want more of it in my life.