About the Girl Who Doesn’t Show You Her Pain

Just because you don’t see her cry doesn’t mean she isn’t hurting.

A very close friend of mine once said, “I’ve never seen you cry.” It was odd to me that it was odd for her to not see someone close to her cry. She was part of my support system when I separated from my husband so it made sense that she would question my lack of visible crying.

I don’t hide my hurt and tears from others because I’m trying to be some tough badass chick. It’s much more complicated.

Boys don’t cry

My Muslim dad has 11 brothers and sisters. In turn, they averaged 3 or 4 kids each. That translates to a lot of first cousins. Almost all of them are boys.

Growing up, I was the oldest female. I was also the only female. That meant I could either sit prim and proper with the other Aunties as they chatted in non-English languages or I could play with my boy cousins. While they always included me, I felt out of place because I was the only girl. That meant I had to go with the flow and copy their behaviors. Boys don’t cry. Therefore, I couldn’t cry.

It wasn’t a conscious decision. I just didn’t want to do anything they weren’t doing. I wanted to be like them. While we all appreciate Starscream’s deep-rooted desire to unseat his ruler Megatron in Transformers, I certainly wasn’t going to have my Decepticon start crying. When we played GI Joe, I was Scarlett and Baroness with tough-as-nails personalities.

If I wanted to blend in, I couldn’t cry.

Don’t show weakness

I have no research or supporting links but I’m going to go out on a limb that the average 1970s kid with religious immigrant parents grew up with strict rules that had little wiggle room for emotion. And by “little”, I mean “none”.

I was raised as a rule-following robot. As I got older, I began questioning these rules but each time I did, I faced an Orwellian outcome from my parents. Somehow it became logical to me that showing emotion meant weakness and I wasn’t going to let Big Brother see me as weak.

Instead, I learned the best game face. When I got in trouble (as I often did), regardless if the punishment was physical or verbal, I refused to show pain. I let it boil inside until I could finally escape to my room and cry. Not wanting my parents to hear me, I mastered the art of silent crying and screaming. (Pro-tip: smushing your face into a pillow when hysterically crying works well to muffle sounds.)

As an adult, I know this isn’t healthy. Really, I know. At this point, it’s just instinct and habit.

One of the guys

Building a career in the tech industry since the early 2000s means I was always the only woman in a meeting room or on a team. In the wild, if you stand out it means certain death as you’re probably the weakest one and you’re a vulnerability for the entire pack. In the workforce, the same rules apply.

Growing up with all boys, I can feel at ease in a room full of guy truckers. Surrounded by male tech nerds isn’t difficult. Just don’t show negative emotions. Easy peasy.

My biggest challenge was reporting to a particularly shitty boss who made microaggressions an art. After almost two years, there were at least three of us women who had contacted personal attorneys for his behavior.

I was his only female direct report but the entire little crew of direct reports suffered under his leadership and we bonded as a result. My male peers often told me how it was obvious our boss treated me much worse than them and they couldn’t understand why. I refused to let my frustration show at work and continued my bravado act of smack talk like the rest of them. Keeping up with a group of guys who are all in a perpetual dick-swinging competition is exhausting.

Not once did I cry at work. Every day I would go home and bawl over my inability to work with my boss who continued to belittle me daily. It took a toll on my health and marriage; I stuck it out because I needed the fantastic healthcare for my autistic son’s treatments.

When I finally switched to another team, the director of HR asked me for the full scoop on that boss. It took me over an hour to spill all of his egregious behaviors. I didn’t shed a tear but she cried, surrounded by piles of Kleenex.

Dating and marriage

This trickled into my dating life. While I would tear up a little if my then-boyfriend and I had a massive we’re-going-to-break-up fight, I never melted down. I never told boyfriends if I was experiencing depression or emotional pain.

It didn’t make me look like a happy girlfriend. It made me a bitchy, cranky girlfriend because I couldn’t articulate internal hurt. I looked like a jerk by not crying during breakups.

Only two people have ever seen me completely crumble. With my husband, I trusted him and showed that side of me; his stoic reaction taught me he didn’t “deserve” to see that side of me. When we fought and he yelled something hurtful, I’d dig my nails in my hands until I could sneak into the garage. I’d curl against the washing machine and silently meltdown as I had learned growing up.

The only thing more painful than completely melting down in agony is when the other person reacts with indifference. I vowed for years never to show that reaction to anyone ever again; their lack of caring adds to the hurt.

In the past year or two, I’ve shifted my mentality with my husband. To show vulnerability, I let him see me cry again. Which lately is quite a bit, since we’re on the cusp of a potential divorce. He is no longer the stoic asshole he once was when I showed hurt.

Last week I completely melted down in front of someone else. Full on, curled-in-a-ball, crying like a baby. I intended on staying cool and calm before meeting him. I had a script to keep me focused and stop my voice from wavering. Conventional wisdom says it probably shows growth to display vulnerability to someone else. Truthfully, I’m mortified. I feel like my message got lost and it inadvertently manipulated him into behaving a certain way.

A guy friend once said, “crying is Chick Arsenal”. He meant that during an argument if the woman cries, it’s a weapon to stop the guy from arguing. I don’t want to be the girl who cries to make someone lose their voice during a conflict. Last week threw me for a loop because I tried my hardest to not deploy my “chick arsenal” but my anguish was too much and I cracked. When that happens, it takes days for me to recover. Even worse, I’m worried he views me as an overly-emotional, irrational female instead of someone level-headed who can keep her shit together.

I teach my children that crying is okay and I help them articulate their emotions. While I can also be an asshole mother (sarcastically saying, “Life is hard when you only have thirty Lego sets, isn’t it?”), I want them to grow up not fearing vulnerability or expressing their needs to others.

In high school, a close friend left to study abroad for a year. I earned the class reputation of being a cold-hearted bitch for not crying as everyone else did when we said our goodbyes. Her mother later told me that it’s the ones that don’t show their emotion that are feeling it the most on the inside. That comment stays with me decades later; not showing pain doesn’t mean it isn’t there.

If you know someone resilient, don’t assume she doesn’t feel agony on the inside. It could be that the intensity in which she feels all emotions (both good and bad) is too much to unleash to others around her. Her only coping mechanism is to contain and hope if she does crack, whoever is there will treat her with compassion instead of contempt.