Today is a day where my heart just can’t keep it together, and yet the tears refuse to fall.
It takes a lot to break me these days. I used to cry at the drop of a hat when something touched me. A year ago, I would have cried my eyes out in the first scene watching Les Miserables. But now I fear something is wrong with me and my heart is colder because the tears just didn’t really come. The stack of unused tissues in my lap at the theater were a stark reminder that something has changed within me.
There’s this voice, this cowardly voice inside of my head that tells me not to cry. It tells me only the weak shed tears. People expect you to be weak and needy and vulnerable, so don’t give it to them! I’ve been listening to that voice too much, and now I am too strong and too brave to cry.
It’s been almost five months. It amazes me every day how much intensity and I still feel for a little girl who was such a fleeting moment in our lives. What I would give to hold her newborn body and kiss her pouty lips and cheeks! My eyes burn from trying to hold back tears when I think about her because it turns out that I won’t cry, not even in front of my best friend. And he, out of anyone, deserves more than that. I don’t want to be weak, and I don’t want to be needy. I should be over this by now. But instead I’m just guarded and restless and full of so much anxiety and sadness.
Vulnerable and open are not part of my vocabulary anymore. How do I get them back so I can continue to heal? This broken heart can’t be fixed if it’s got a wall around it.