Why we cry, the truths about tearing up, for each of us....

I thought I couldn't cry when young, injuries or deaths never made me cry. Then when I was thirty my daughter was born, two years later my son, since then I'm a blubbering basket case. So for the last thirty years I've been a man baby.
 

I remember the first time I cried over a movie at age 8. The end of Old Yeller where the rabies infected mad dog is shot by the tearful boy Travis. :cry:

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Old_Yeller_(film)

People should cry when those they deeply love die. They are so so worth it. The closest one might come to an awareness of God may be during crying over love. Our most inner deep being of love can only be truly reached with crying. Anthropology shows many cultures of the world had elaborate crying rituals involving both genders over days when those they loved died. It is in Western cultures where such has been suppressed.
 
squatting dog said:
I cried when the daughter died. (Still do)
I guess I turned soft as I aged, because I have cried each time I had to help one of the dogs cross the rainbow bridge.
That's all.
Edit. Thinking of my daughter has me tearing up as I type. :cry:
Click to expand...
Now my eyes are full of tears. I know you have struggles, but I wonder if you are aware of the example you set for others? You are so unflinchingly authentic, and your humanity is amazing. My vets could learn a great deal from you. RESPECT 🤗
 

Why we cry, the truths about tearing up, for each of us....​


Alligatorob said:
Not me, I can't recall ever shedding tears. I have felt bad enough to a few times, like when my mother died. But as sad and unhappy as I was, no tears. Might feel better to be able to do it.
Click to expand...
Man, I wish I could
I'm jealous of those that can
Deaths of folks makes me down a bit, but crying just doesn't come

Last time I wept was after visiting our schizophrenic son in prison before he was diagnosed, seeing him chained from head to toe...incoherant.....
I wrote about him a few decades ago, and posted it here awhile back, but doubt anyone here would care to read that again
 
Crying, defined as tearing for emotional reasons, is unique to humans and universal. Crying can be hard to control, difficult to falsify, and is imbued with an intensity unparalleled by other forms of emotional expression.

Research suggests that when you cry, your body releases endorphins and oxytocin. These natural chemical messengers help relieve emotional distress along with physical pain. In other words, crying is a self-soothing behaviour.

Many people believe that men shouldn't cry, or that they should hide their emotions. But in truth, crying can be healthy and beneficial at times, no matter your gender. Crying has a number of health benefits. Research suggests crying can soothe you, lift your mood, and even reduce pain.
 
Today I weep for Peter, my English friend. I have known him since I was 21. He has terminal lung cancer. Oh, he is so stalwart. He is coming by tomorrow to drop off the gorgeous macrame two layer hanging shelf I gave him when I was 22. He will be going to the local hospital for a scan to determine how much time remains. I hope he doesn’t shut me out, but I will understand should he choose to do so. We were lovers when I was so very young. He nicknamed me Peony Toad Who Lives In The Road.😢
 
Gaer said:
This shows your beautiful soul!

I've had, during and after TM, or angelic experiences of blissfulness and light that covered the entire room
and was so incredible, the emotions can't even be explained, where my eyes were full of tears.
But, not sadness. Tears or touching something, certainly not of this world; must be of the Heavens.
Click to expand...
Yes, I can see that happening, @Gaer! I believe you are graced with a gift from God.
 
I don't know why men have such a difficult time allowing themselves to cry. I know it's built into our culture. I'm glad I'm gay because there aren't those expectations of me. I've cried during movies and even a recent episode of The Last Of Us. I've cried watching sad animal videos on Youtube. I would bawl at the most inopportune times after my father died. I bawled when we euthanized our cats.

Regardless of the situation, each time it has felt "soul cleansing" for me.
 
Last edited:
Gary O' said:

Why we cry, the truths about tearing up, for each of us....​



Man, I wish I could
I'm jealous of those that can
Deaths of folks makes me down a bit, but crying just doesn't come

Last time I wept was after visiting our schizophrenic son in prison before he was diagnosed, seeing him chained from head to toe...incoherant.....
I wrote about him a few decades ago, and posted it here awhile back, but doubt anyone here would care to read that again
Click to expand...
I relate more to the men than the women on this subject. Like, Nathan , Alligator Rob, SquattingDog and Gary, I have trouble crying in public and feel bad that I couldn't cry at my mother's funeral. But it was my parents who taught me not to cry along with my brothers, they would get angry at me for crying and I think it becomes like a switch that is stuck in the off position.

It's interesting that, for all of us, it's our children who we feel so strongly for that it breaks through that off switch. When my son was diagnosed with schizophrenia I cried almost constantly for about a year. There's something uniquely terrible about seeing your child lose his mind. I once heard a woman who's daughter died say that it helped her to picture her girl as an angel in heaven. I thought to myself that well, for me, it was like my son has died and gone to hell and I have to watch. Now, I am grateful everyday that he has responded well to medication and is living a normal, but difficult life. I just wish I could say that for all the other young people with schizophrenia.
 
Della said:
When my son was diagnosed with schizophrenia I cried almost constantly for about a year. There's something uniquely terrible about seeing your child lose his mind. I once heard a woman who's daughter died say that it helped her to picture her girl as an angel in heaven. I thought to myself that well, for me, it was like my son has died and gone to hell and I have to watch. Now, I am grateful everyday that he has responded well to medication and is living a normal, but difficult life. I just wish I could say that for all the other young people with schizophrenia.
Click to expand...
I can so relate

Oh, what the heck

My son's story;

I just watched the movie 'Shine' last night

.....reminded me of my eldest son

was hard to hold emotion thru some parts

was much harder for my Lady

but we remained

riveted

My son
Excelled in academics
Skipped grades
Won awards
Became somewhat sought after
Mensa
Artistic things hung in municipal halls
Life for him was just too slow apace
Stayed up for days at a time
He’d regurgitate all his thoughts to his mother and I
It was a bit suffocating

Then one day he came to me in my shop
....and began crying, telling me he felt he was going crazy,
but unable to put his feelings into words
I hugged him
Told him all kids go thru puberty and change
‘this too shall pass’ kinda thing

The next years are a blur
I guess maybe I never have wished to dwell on the events in those years

I’ll try to piece some together on my own, as I know better than to ask my lady


He ended up in prison
At 19
Advancing from a minimum security facility to OSP
And on to ‘thunderdome’
Where nobody, even hardened cons want to go

Tried to arrange visits
Rejected countless times
Talked to OSP counselors
‘forget your son, concentrate on your other children’

We got a call
OSP does not call anyone
‘You need to see your son’

The visiting area was like a staging zone for zoo critters
Steel tables, benches, cemented in
Chain link walls and doors
He was led in by guards
Shackled head to toe
Made to sit
Unseeing eyes
No recognition
Indistinguishable utterances
He stunk to high heaven
Never looked our way

On the way home I had to pull over, off the freeway
I don’t remember the last time I cried
Maybe as a small child...
But
Never wept like that in my life
And have yet too since
Bitter
Helpless
Godless
Utter hopelessness

A month (?) later we got another call
He was being transferred to the psych ward across the street
Where ‘One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest’ was filmed

We were told he had quit eating entirely
Weighed 90 lbs
A guard carried him across the street in his arms

We were led to the visiting area
Typical booth like situation for visitors
Only, the other side of the glass was something from a zombie movie
We got to watch him attempt to drink milk and cry

My lady had a very hard time
I went alone
Weeks of visiting later, he was released
Just like that

After 7 years of maximum security

to us

I do not do well when cleaning up men with uncontrolled body functions

Triage
Nut bins
Meds

It’s all a blur

Somewhere in there, when he was still cognizant, I did a bit of a fraught thing…

We talked about his options
He wanted to go camping

So

Him and I packed his meager belongings

Bought him some basic camp stuff

Drove him to the Trask river area


And dropped him off

while it began to rain

Ever do something that gave you immediate relief, knowing the end result would probably not be optimal?

On the way back home, I tried not to think.

Still

Thoughts crept in

Maybe he’d just lie there curled in his sleeping bag
Inert
Oblivious
Until days later large birds of prey would dine on his remains

It’s all a blur

They found him 300 miles south
Incoherent

The Tillamook women’s mental health facility asked us to take him back 'he can't stay here'

More triage

Got him hooked up with a place called Luke-Dorf

General population nut bin for semi-functional goofballs
Then what they call the quad
Then paired up in a shared apartment
And now
On his own
On a budget

I figger the tax payer’s dollars for this are from this tax payer

During these times he’d ever so often not take his meds
Sometimes it was because they changed colors or shapes and he didn’t think they were right
Sometimes it was just because he thought he no longer needed them
Always ended with me going over there, reattaching his phone, and fishing his glasses outa the toilet.

He’s as functional now as you and me, first look.

As long as he takes his meds.

Sorry
This is jumbled time line mess
My lady can recite the events like they happened yesterday
7 or more years of them
I will not take her there

Update 2023
He passed away a couple years ago
 
palides2021 said:
I cry easily. It is something I do when moved about something, whether a poem, a movie, or art. I cry when overcome by happiness as well as when overcome by sadness. Although I write poems, I have tried reciting them, and find myself crying in the middle of the poem because I am moved by the words! So I dare not recite poetry because it takes away from the poem and puts the focus on me! I guess one would call me sensitive.
Click to expand...

I have the same problem reading aloud passages from a novel or a poem that touch me.
 
Gary O' said:
I can so relate

Oh, what the heck

My son's story;

I just watched the movie 'Shine' last night

.....reminded me of my eldest son

was hard to hold emotion thru some parts

was much harder for my Lady

but we remained

riveted

My son
Excelled in academics
Skipped grades
Won awards
Became somewhat sought after
Mensa
Artistic things hung in municipal halls
Life for him was just too slow apace
Stayed up for days at a time
He’d regurgitate all his thoughts to his mother and I
It was a bit suffocating

Then one day he came to me in my shop
....and began crying, telling me he felt he was going crazy,
but unable to put his feelings into words
I hugged him
Told him all kids go thru puberty and change
‘this too shall pass’ kinda thing

The next years are a blur
I guess maybe I never have wished to dwell on the events in those years

I’ll try to piece some together on my own, as I know better than to ask my lady


He ended up in prison
At 19
Advancing from a minimum security facility to OSP
And on to ‘thunderdome’
Where nobody, even hardened cons want to go

Tried to arrange visits
Rejected countless times
Talked to OSP counselors
‘forget your son, concentrate on your other children’

We got a call
OSP does not call anyone
‘You need to see your son’

The visiting area was like a staging zone for zoo critters
Steel tables, benches, cemented in
Chain link walls and doors
He was led in by guards
Shackled head to toe
Made to sit
Unseeing eyes
No recognition
Indistinguishable utterances
He stunk to high heaven
Never looked our way

On the way home I had to pull over, off the freeway
I don’t remember the last time I cried
Maybe as a small child...
But
Never wept like that in my life
And have yet too since
Bitter
Helpless
Godless
Utter hopelessness

A month (?) later we got another call
He was being transferred to the psych ward across the street
Where ‘One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest’ was filmed

We were told he had quit eating entirely
Weighed 90 lbs
A guard carried him across the street in his arms

We were led to the visiting area
Typical booth like situation for visitors
Only, the other side of the glass was something from a zombie movie
We got to watch him attempt to drink milk and cry

My lady had a very hard time
I went alone
Weeks of visiting later, he was released
Just like that

After 7 years of maximum security

to us

I do not do well when cleaning up men with uncontrolled body functions

Triage
Nut bins
Meds

It’s all a blur

Somewhere in there, when he was still cognizant, I did a bit of a fraught thing…

We talked about his options
He wanted to go camping

So

Him and I packed his meager belongings

Bought him some basic camp stuff

Drove him to the Trask river area


And dropped him off

while it began to rain

Ever do something that gave you immediate relief, knowing the end result would probably not be optimal?

On the way back home, I tried not to think.

Still

Thoughts crept in

Maybe he’d just lie there curled in his sleeping bag
Inert
Oblivious
Until days later large birds of prey would dine on his remains

It’s all a blur

They found him 300 miles south
Incoherent

The Tillamook women’s mental health facility asked us to take him back 'he can't stay here'

More triage

Got him hooked up with a place called Luke-Dorf

General population nut bin for semi-functional goofballs
Then what they call the quad
Then paired up in a shared apartment
And now
On his own
On a budget

I figger the tax payer’s dollars for this are from this tax payer

During these times he’d ever so often not take his meds
Sometimes it was because they changed colors or shapes and he didn’t think they were right
Sometimes it was just because he thought he no longer needed them
Always ended with me going over there, reattaching his phone, and fishing his glasses outa the toilet.

He’s as functional now as you and me, first look.

As long as he takes his meds.

Sorry
This is jumbled time line mess
My lady can recite the events like they happened yesterday
7 or more years of them
I will not take her there

Update 2023
He passed away a couple years ago
Click to expand...

you’ve already been to as bad as it gets and survived what is there left to fear?
 
seadoug said:
I don't know why men have such a difficult time allowing themselves to cry. I know it's built into our culture. I'm glad I'm gay because there aren't those expectations of me. I've cried during movies and even a recent episode of The Last Of Us. I've cried watching sad animal videos on Youtube. I would bawl at the most inopportune times after my father died. I bawled when we euthanized our cats.

Regardless of the situation, each time it has felt "soul cleansing" for me.
Click to expand...

What is your secret? Intellectually I accept tears. Heck I even welcome them as refreshing when I’m alone. But when they take me by surprise in conversation I just go blank. Very disquieting. I admire women and my gay friends who strike me as so much more stable and healthy this way. Are you able to talk through it all? What is the technique?
 
Gary O' said:
I can so relate

Oh, what the heck

My son's story;

I just watched the movie 'Shine' last night

.....reminded me of my eldest son

was hard to hold emotion thru some parts

was much harder for my Lady

but we remained

riveted

My son
Excelled in academics
Skipped grades
Won awards
Became somewhat sought after
Mensa
Artistic things hung in municipal halls
Life for him was just too slow apace
Stayed up for days at a time
He’d regurgitate all his thoughts to his mother and I
It was a bit suffocating

Then one day he came to me in my shop
....and began crying, telling me he felt he was going crazy,
but unable to put his feelings into words
I hugged him
Told him all kids go thru puberty and change
‘this too shall pass’ kinda thing

The next years are a blur
I guess maybe I never have wished to dwell on the events in those years

I’ll try to piece some together on my own, as I know better than to ask my lady


He ended up in prison
At 19
Advancing from a minimum security facility to OSP
And on to ‘thunderdome’
Where nobody, even hardened cons want to go

Tried to arrange visits
Rejected countless times
Talked to OSP counselors
‘forget your son, concentrate on your other children’

We got a call
OSP does not call anyone
‘You need to see your son’

The visiting area was like a staging zone for zoo critters
Steel tables, benches, cemented in
Chain link walls and doors
He was led in by guards
Shackled head to toe
Made to sit
Unseeing eyes
No recognition
Indistinguishable utterances
He stunk to high heaven
Never looked our way

On the way home I had to pull over, off the freeway
I don’t remember the last time I cried
Maybe as a small child...
But
Never wept like that in my life
And have yet too since
Bitter
Helpless
Godless
Utter hopelessness

A month (?) later we got another call
He was being transferred to the psych ward across the street
Where ‘One Flew Over The Cuckoo’s Nest’ was filmed

We were told he had quit eating entirely
Weighed 90 lbs
A guard carried him across the street in his arms

We were led to the visiting area
Typical booth like situation for visitors
Only, the other side of the glass was something from a zombie movie
We got to watch him attempt to drink milk and cry

My lady had a very hard time
I went alone
Weeks of visiting later, he was released
Just like that

After 7 years of maximum security

to us

I do not do well when cleaning up men with uncontrolled body functions

Triage
Nut bins
Meds

It’s all a blur

Somewhere in there, when he was still cognizant, I did a bit of a fraught thing…

We talked about his options
He wanted to go camping

So

Him and I packed his meager belongings

Bought him some basic camp stuff

Drove him to the Trask river area


And dropped him off

while it began to rain

Ever do something that gave you immediate relief, knowing the end result would probably not be optimal?

On the way back home, I tried not to think.

Still

Thoughts crept in

Maybe he’d just lie there curled in his sleeping bag
Inert
Oblivious
Until days later large birds of prey would dine on his remains

It’s all a blur

They found him 300 miles south
Incoherent

The Tillamook women’s mental health facility asked us to take him back 'he can't stay here'

More triage

Got him hooked up with a place called Luke-Dorf

General population nut bin for semi-functional goofballs
Then what they call the quad
Then paired up in a shared apartment
And now
On his own
On a budget

I figger the tax payer’s dollars for this are from this tax payer

During these times he’d ever so often not take his meds
Sometimes it was because they changed colors or shapes and he didn’t think they were right
Sometimes it was just because he thought he no longer needed them
Always ended with me going over there, reattaching his phone, and fishing his glasses outa the toilet.

He’s as functional now as you and me, first look.

As long as he takes his meds.

Sorry
This is jumbled time line mess
My lady can recite the events like they happened yesterday
7 or more years of them
I will not take her there

Update 2023
He passed away a couple years ago
Click to expand...
Your story is heartbreaking, @Gary O' ! I remember reading something in the past on SF about his passing. May he rest in peace. 🤗
 
I had a similar situation with my eldest daughter - one of a set of twins. She started showing signs of on-coming problems in high school, but not severe enough that any of us recognized what was in store. After graduating from High School, she moved down to California where her problems worsened. She became convinced that everyone - including her family was "out to get her" and she cut us all off.
She refused to get any kind of mental health care or take any medications. Eventually, she met and moved in with the father of her one lone child and gave up any attempt at working due to what she claimed were severe enough arm and shoulders injuries that they disabled her.
The child's father continued to maintain the apartment where they lived - largely for the child's sake, I suspect Ultimately she came to suspect the father was also out to get her, so she rejected him, but as she had no place else to go, she stayed, but shut herself away from him.
A few years ago the owner of the building where the apartment was located evicted all tenents for a redo of the building and at that time my daughter elected to live on the streets. The child, by this time, was an adult with a spouse and 3 children, so taking her in to live with them was not possible. It had become pretty obvious by this time that my poor daughter had inherited her grandmother's (My mother's) paranoid schizophrenia - the reason I had lived in foster homes most of my childhood .
Fortunately for her, she made contact with someone able to gain her trust who was able to persuade her to get help and began taking medication. Once that was done she was able to get an apartment for herself and a small income. It also enabled those of us in the family to gradually make recontact with her.
Unfortunately, that ended last month when she had a fatal heart attack. She was just a few days short of her 63rd birthday - way too young to go. People on my father's side all reached late 80's or mid nineties. My unfortunate mother committed suicide in her late 30's, but the rest of that side of the family lived comparatively long lives.
It was a phone call I hoped I would never receive. I fully expected all my kids would out live me.
Of course I cried.
 
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