Crying scared me for a number of reasons. Usually, it was only a woman I was strongly tied to who was crying, and I felt like she was probably crying because I had hurt her somehow. I always felt guilty in those days, and was always certain I done something wrong.
Crying seemed to me to be the worst thing ever. If a woman was crying, that meant she was about to leave me. Scared the shit out of me. And it was made worse because the woman never told me why she was crying. I would ask her anxiously, and then I’d start apologizing and things would get worse.
My wife kept on insisting that crying was good for her. It released her. I should try it. I never had much luck, though. Crying isn’t easy for me. I don’t know if it’s because I was trained not to cry or if it’s because men just don’t cry so much due to our physiology. And when I did cry, it only made me feel worse. So it was hard to imagine anyone feeling better after crying.
After I got sick, two things happened. One, it became easier for me to “cry.” I don’t really cry, but my eyes start watering and I get choked up. It happens a lot more now than it ever did before. I actually like it because it makes me feel more in tune with what’s going on around me, and it makes me feel like I know when important emotional things are happening. That probably sounds really stupid. Especially to guys. Oh well.
Then, my wife and I went to couples counseling, and I found out that it wasn’t important to her. It seems that crying triggered a desire to make things better. But, it turned out, that wasn’t wanted. My wife didn’t want me to fix things. She just wanted me to hold her. She didn’t even care if I understood. She just wanted sympathy. So I could keep my anxieties to myself (how egotistical to think it’s always about me, anyway), and just be there.
Just be there. What kind of weird is that? What’s wrong with trying to make things better? Why can’t we fix things? What’s the point of crying if you don’t ask for help?
So, yeah. Stuff down those action feelings and hang around like a big mope, holding her, and everything is cool, most of the time. Sometimes she really is pissed at me, but that’s another story, I guess.