Pillow talk.

a song to set the scene // late bloomer by the secret sisters

“When was the last time I cried?”

While most pillow talk involves affectionate intimate conversation between lovers, I like to start mine with inquries about the last time I cried.

My gem was thoughtful a moment.

“A couple of weeks ago?” he guessed.

A couple of weeks ago?!

I was shocked.

Could it really have been that long?

“Wait,” he paused. “Did you not cry during that last episode (of Ted Lasso)? I shed two whole tears.”

“No, I didn’t,” I replied, heart sinking.

It’s ironic: I spend my whole life feeling insecure about how emotional I am and how much I cry, and the one time I don’t cry when I should’ve cried, I worry.

This wasn’t the only time I noticed a lack of waterworks. There had been many occasions in the weeks prior where this same thing happened.

So naturally, when I heard I hadn’t cried in weeks, I worried.

I started with what I could blame: medicine.

Focusing on this one line from this one song, I worried that my new anti-anxiety medication was making me numb.

What if I’m becoming desensitized to emotion? What if I’m turning into an unfeeling zombie? What if I’m losing this part of myself that I have finally come to love and accept?

Expressing these concerns to my gem in what was supposed to be affectionate intimate pillow talk, he told me simply:

“My dear, your emotions are a building block to who you are. You didn’t lose that. You could never lose that.”

I was dubious.

(sorry hun)

Sharing these fears with my counselor, these all too real horrors of losing my emotional self, we realized something.

This was actually growth.

And with growth comes change, and evolution.

It’s all part of the process.

Crying has always been an integral part of how I express myself. For as long as I can remember, being emotional was a signature trait of an Elan.

Everyone knows this about me.

I cry when a bird hits the window, or when I watch my sister perform onstage. I cry when the horse dies in Man From Snowy River, or when I listen to Sweet Disposition by The Temper Trap because it reminds me of a mixed tape my dear friend Emma made me back in high school.

I’m overcome with emotion when I watch the first 15 minutes of Up, or when my staff writes me a card telling me how good of a boss I am.

I cry when I’m sad, I cry when I’m happy.

I cry when I hurt, and especially when I heal.

But, like there are coats in my closet, there are many ways to express oneself emotionally.

In place of tears, deep compassion now flows through me.

In place of tears, there now lies empathy in a stable and grounded center.

And maybe, in place of tears, there now sits that little girl who’s no longer hurting, but healing.

Perhaps those sensitivities are mending.

I know I will cry again, many, many, many more times.

Because like my gem said, being emotional is at the core of who I am.

Is the change scary? Slightly.

Do I miss the tears? I do, strangely enough.

But I also know that they’ll always be a part of me, and when I want to slip on my coat and express myself through crying, they’ll be waiting.

Waiting just like my gem: who was hoping for some affectionate intimate conversation between two lovers…