It’s Okay if You Need to Cry
Trust what makes you feel better and safer
Last night, when I finally sat down, I could tell every single fiber in me was jarred. The sound of the TV startled me. I couldn’t find my zero. The world felt scratchy and the air hurt my being.
Tears were at the surface tension phase — not quite ready to flow because they were and still are bracing for the unknown.
It wasn’t just one or two things that worried me, but a global effect.
I had to find my cat. He’s like a weighted blanket without feeling suffocated and there’s a bonus — he purrs.
When I finally reached my bed and the sounds of the house settled to quiet, it was well past midnight. I listened until these words drew me true and I will share them with you.
It’s okay if you need to cry, or shout, or to stay quiet. Your reactions and emotions are all okay. We don’t need to react the same way.
There’s a ton of information on the screen. Groups are sprouting up everywhere. This can feel wonderful or overwhelming. Pick and choose what feels right for you.
If it feels too much, there’s no obligation to join, or watch, or do.
I know this might sound simple, but for some of us we’ve been conditioned to not want to hurt feelings and go along, by saying yes, when our hearts are crying, and our heads are shaking– please, no more. Our hands are raised with a firm by gentle stop. I know I find myself backing way up and going inward.
I cling to the cloud commas quoting the sky’s simplicity. The voices of my own and with those alone, are coupled with the sequestered nations that we are.
The hugs that can’t be found. We rub our own arms and wrap ourselves into a knitted frequency of hope and love and touch. We ride the waves of our ups and downs.
Sometimes our vessel flips, and we grow gills and swim against the current of our panic counting the river rocks touching our fins until we resume our humanness.
This pandemic is difficult. There’s no way to brush away the fears that are real.
Yet, there are ways that are unique to us that can help.
I know nature clothes me. Music fills me. Reading weaves me. Writing is an extension of my soul. Meditation is a holy disassociation. Stretching feels me. Walking reminds me I am whole.
Together we will find our ways to cope, listen, share and understand.
This crisis is not — one-size-fits-all.
Trust what makes you feel better. I believe each day we stay secluded we invite a new story to unfold.
Carolyn Riker, MA, LMHC, is a psychotherapist and author of three books. Her latest is My Dear, Love Hasn’t Forgotten You. If you’d like, follow her on Facebook at Carolyn Riker, MA, LMHC or Instagram.