I can't cry
Crying with joy or with emotion. Crying with grief because you've lost someone or something. We all cry sometimes… don't we? No — many of us rarely cry, or haven't in a very long time. Others cry far more often than they'd like. Why do we actually cry, and what makes us cry "too often" or "too little"?
My primary school teacher, Meester Andries, who taught me from grades 5 through 8, always encouraged me to read a lot. One day after school, he came with me to the library to help me choose books and find my way around the public library on Plein 40–45 in Amsterdam West, near where I lived. I had just moved from an asylum seekers' centre in Zeeland to Amsterdam and could barely speak a word of Dutch. We came across a book titled "I Have No More Tears". It was by an Iranian writer who told his life story as a child soldier. I understood the title and wondered whether tears could actually run out. It was admittedly not the lightest book to start with — but I believe Meester Andries saw my culture and country as a good entry point into the Dutch language, and I wanted to know what had happened to make the author of this book unable to cry anymore.
You don't have to have been a child soldier to stop being able to cry. What is it that makes your tears seem to have dried up? And why would you even want to cry? As a body-oriented therapist, I help people explore what is happening inside them — both in the mind and in the body. I see how differently people deal with grief, and I discover together with my clients what makes it so that they can't cry — or, on the contrary, feel lost in tears.
The function of an emotion
Every emotion has a function. You can see them as signals from the body — to ourselves and to others. They communicate something to us and have something to tell us. Feeling a tear rise tells you that something has touched you, and those around you can see that too and respond to it. As social beings, we live in groups and use emotional communication to better attune to one another and stand stronger together. This is how it works when we are open to what our emotions are trying to tell us. I believe that the child soldier in the book could no longer be open to the message of his grief. And there is a good reason for that. When an emotion becomes too overwhelming, the parasympathetic branch of our nervous system kicks in and numbs us, so to speak, so that we can continue to function. This doesn't mean the grief is gone — it means it has been suppressed and can no longer be felt. When grief is pushed down far enough, at some point you simply cannot cry anymore.
I cry, therefore I live
We cry when we lose something dear to us. Processing and moving through that loss — and learning to live with it — involves grief. When the loss feels too great, we can shut down and be unable to come to terms with what has happened to us. Twelve-year-old child soldier Freidoune experienced the most terrible things. He lost his family and friends, his freedom, his childhood, his trust, and his sense of safety. Such an enormous loss in such a short time is too much for any person to process — let alone for a twelve-year-old. The more unprocessed grief we carry in our system, the more disconnected from life we become. We learn to step out of contact with life in order not to feel the grief. But at some point, a longing to cry may arise — because we want to move forward and live without the weight of the past. But how?
How can I cry again?
It was once too much — there was too much grief. In that moment, your system wasn't able to process it. What will help you come to terms with old grief is first discovering that there is grief in your system. This usually requires a certain degree of safety and trust. A common fear around grief is that once you let it in, it will never stop. That is why it is helpful for your system to experience that you can touch small pieces of grief without being overwhelmed by them. It is enormously valuable to find a body-oriented therapist who can assist you in this process. A therapist trained in NARM and Somatic Experiencing can help you very effectively with this. And with the following tips, you can invite your own tears and let them flow.
Tips to invite your tears
1. Be kind to yourself and give yourself time in this process
For change in body and mind, loving attention toward yourself is essential. Invite yourself to connect with what you want — without pushing yourself. Pushing only works against you. Perhaps you can picture how a child shuts down under pressure, and how it naturally starts to move again when it feels space, time, and playfulness.
2. Write about crying — or about not being able to cry
Start writing about crying. You might write about when you first noticed you couldn't cry, and what your life was like at that time — what was going on then. Try to connect with that period and describe colours, smells, textures. As you write, you may become aware of sensations and emotions in your body — write those down too. Do this a few times a week.
3. Do breathing exercises
Before or after writing, try a breathing exercise. You could experiment with a Wim Hof breathing technique, for example. More oxygen enters your body, bringing it more to life and allowing suppressed feelings to come more to the surface. Join workshops by Laura and Isabella Hof at www.laurahofalchemy.com.
Find more information about body-oriented therapy, blogs, and tips on the page about body-oriented therapy.
