Can Abuse and Trauma Dry Out Our Tears?

Exploring the mental and emotional reasons behind missing tears, as told by science and psychologists.

—I don’t understand what’s going on. I feel so incredibly sad… —Oh, honey! I don’t think you EVER said that to me. You wanna talk about it?

This was a text between my best friend and me earlier this week, and when I read her answer, I almost cried.

Notice how I say almost.

Morgan and I have shared our losses, victories, and all in between over the past twelve years—and we tell each other everything. But, apparently, I’ve NEVER told her I’m sad, and, I know she can count on less than one hand the times she’s seen me cry.

After plugging in my headphones to call her while taking a walk I tried to make sense of my sadness only to realize that beyond it, I feel numb, empty, and flat; a whole bunch of nothingness. I dug deeper and admitted that I really miss the cathartic relief of crying, and I can barely remember the last time I did. What’s wrong with me?

Why would I ‘want’ to cry?

Surely, I don’t want to cry all the time, but, there are many occasions where I feel like it would be helpful to let it all out rather than sticking it in a box and keeping it together.

Crying is a healthy release of all kinds of emotional build-up. Not only is it physically beneficial in lubricating the eyes to prevent infection as well as cleansing out stress hormones and other toxins, but it also dulls emotional pain through the release of oxytocin and endorphins which again helps us self-soothe, restores emotional balance, and enhances our mood.

Crying in the company of others is a sign of mutual trust that can forge stronger bonds. In addition, it helps to rally support when we’re incapable of asking for it with words. Most importantly, weeping aids recovery from grief: In a process that involves sorrow, numbness, guilt, and anger, crying is a crucial component.

But, what happens when you can’t? When you feel the urge to, but the tears won’t come? Or, perhaps you just feel completely numb?

Reflecting on how my tears ran dry

To provide some background info: Four years ago I escaped a decade-long relationship with an abusive narcissist; my husband and father of our, then, one-and-a-half-year-old daughter. When he left the country soon after, I became a single parent. Basically, my world unraveled. While my newfound freedom made me feel as if I’d been given life all over again, I struggled with grief, both over the loss of our imagined future together, as well as our past.

This is without mentioning the strain of solo-parenting as a freelancer, sans regular child support, away from my home country and my family, while dealing with the above.

Long story short, the past four years have been challenging, but, I’ve prevailed. I’m a tough cookie, you see—and I’m strong as steel — at least so I’m told. More on that later…

Having put endless hours into self-reflecting, examining, and writing about it, I have fairly good ideas of what’s going on, even if I don’t always know how to fix it. Recently, I’ve become increasingly aware of two things: While I was still with the narcissist I did cry, but at least nine out of ten times, I cried because of him, either during or after an abusive episode.

After leaving, I simply stopped. Sure, there were a few wine-drunk, weepy evenings during my first weeks alone, but, since then, I remember just one single deep cry and a couple of light sobs. Neither joy, happiness, melancholy, despair, anxiety, nor grief — not even the loss of my own grandmother — have caused me to shed more than a few modest tears. Have I slowly gone full-on-marble statue?

Well, I’m not stone-cold though, I still feel all of those things, and sometimes, heart-wrenchingly so. But, instead of letting it out I often cloak myself, and my feelings, in what feels like a thin grey veil.

So, what could be the matter? Like so many others, when something ails me, I take to the internet for answers. There I find a few possible medical reasons why a person can’t cry, from a condition called Keratoconjunctivitis Sicca, or dry eye syndrome, and the autoimmune condition, Sjögren’s Syndrome. Certain environmental factors and medications can play a part in drying up and clogging the tear ducts, but, most often—and what I’m convinced is true for me—an inability to cry is caused by emotional or mental factors.

We’re told not to cry

When we’ve been shamed or belittled for crying; if we’re continuously told that crying is bad, unacceptable, and makes us look weak, we’ll start holding back as a means of self-preservation until we become more or less incapable of crying altogether.

—

Are you gonna cry again? Great!, Why the hell are you crying?, Stop f***ing crying!, Ok, here we go again…[insert eyeroll]

These were the kinds of phrases my ex threw at me whenever I welled up with tears. Then and there, his words just added fuel to the fire. Looking back, I see that being repeatedly mocked or otherwise told not to cry may have resulted in me learning to repress my tears.

He, himself, only cried one single time during our eleven years together, so it further makes sense that he would project his own beliefs about crying onto me.

We think crying makes us look weak

Negative beliefs around crying are common, for adults especially, and even more so for men who are expected to be the strong ones—which, as a side note, is a perfect example of how ingrained patriarchal beliefs harm us all.

Further, we’re taught that crying is acceptable in some instances, such as when we grieving severe losses or in the midst of other (apparent) trauma. In other instances, stoicism is praised. We’re not supposed to break down and cry out of the blue—at work, in public, at the table during a family dinner, and so on. When we keep it together in tough situations, we’re, brave, courageous, and good.

— I could write essays on how strong has become my trademark and how, ever since I was a child, it’s been the number one narrative told about and to me. I bet if you asked everyone who knows me to describe me in three words, strong will be one of them in every case.

It’s not untrue; I am pretty strong, both mentally and physically. It’s an image I’ve come to identify with to the point where I take pride in it. I also really enjoy being in charge, I like overcoming physical and mental challenges, and I’m grateful and humbled when others come to me in need of a rock; someone to lean on, hold them, and comfort them.

During my time with the narcissist, I tried to lean on him for support but was dropped so many times I learned that trusting anyone but myself isn’t safe. I was strong throughout our relationship, strong to leave, and strong in the aftermath.

But, what about when I need someone to lean on; someone, to hold me, for once? I’m slowly but surely learning to ask for support and welcome help, still, I wish I granted myself the grace to fall apart in the arms of others the way I’ve, nonjudgmentally, welcomed others into mine.

Is it anhedonia and melancholic depression?

Anhedonia can be a symptom of depression and other mental health conditions and “describes a loss of interest and pleasure in social activities or physical sensations.” It also often results in not being able to cry easily — or at all.

Those with melancholic depression (MDD) often feel extreme sadness for long periods of time. They may have a hard time focusing and making decisions, a loss of interest in activities, a lack of energy as well as anxiety and irritability. It’s common to feel flat and therefore struggle to cry, or simply not feeling the urge to.

— I’m not shy to admit that I carry a fair amount of stigma around depression and have therefore never admitted to being or feeling depressed. Picturing it, I see someone who’s given up; crying and binge-eating junk food in bed, perpetually at the brink of throwing in the towel altogether.

Despite knowing that this image isn’t accurate — aware that it has many faces, several of which are invisible from the outside, and that many battle high-functioning depression and other mental illnesses — it still doesn’t match with the idea I have of myself. While I’ll celebrate others who talk openly about their struggles and see it as a sign of strength, I’m not giving myself permission to do the same.

While I’m weary to self-diagnose and claim to suffer from the conditions above, the last few years have been marked by longer and shorter phases of “hopelessness, lethargy, emptiness, helplessness, irritability, and problems focusing and concentrating,” which are listed as classical symptoms of depression. Again, few would know, not only because I’m so damn good at keeping it together with a smile on my face, but also because I tend to fluctuate between these moods and their polar opposites.

In conclusion…

The road to recovery after abuse and emotional trauma is a winding one, and I keep finding that behind each layer I peel back, something new and often unexpected comes to the surface.

It may feel like a setback to realize now, after years of being totally fine, that I may not have been all that fine at all; that my unwinding strength and stoicism were simply the armor I put on to make it through. At the same time, there’s a sense of comfort in knowing that with each layer I pull back, I get closer to my essence.

Acceptance is always the first step to recovery and I’ve finally come to accept that I am indeed no walking marble statue: I can’t do it all on my own, I’m not always strong, and sometimes I’m even hopelessly sad — and, all of that is ok.

I’ve arrived at a point where I’m ready to let my armor down; ready to unbarricade the sluicegates. While I’ve always agreed, intellectually, with the words of Charlotte Brontë, it’s time I fully embody this idea:

Crying does not indicate that you are weak. Since birth, it has always been a sign that you are alive.

If you’re also a hard-knock trauma survivor, I wish you the courage to accept your weaknesses and the strength to be soft. And, to everyone who has a friend or loved one who always seems tough as nails, come hell or high water, remember that they may be the one who needs your support the most!