Over the last year, my dad’s witnessed more of my breakdowns than anyone has probably witnessed in my lifetime. Either that, or there were more of them.
He was there for my numerous ones over French, the ones when Rapunzel broke up with me and whenever I called him up after I’d argued with mum and was calling myself a terrible person. He wasn’t there directly after my relationship with S ended but he’s seen the aftermath of that, how it’s affected me and when I sobbed on him because I had no other way to express my emotions. More importantly, he saw a breakdown which I had today – one of the worst, not for its intensity but rather the emotions that went along with it.
I went to “blind college” on Tuesday and “blind school” yesterday and today – the former to look around and the latter to go on a course about uni. Tomorrow, I’ll write a post about how that all went – it was great – but blind school affected me more because I cried last night and today, when I left, for a solid hour and a half.
There’s something about tears. They hurt now almost – because I’ve had difficulty expressing my thoughts and feelings, especially because I smash them down and then forget who I am – I feel guilty. Yesterday was both parts wonderful and shocking because I truly felt emotional – painful emotions but it was okay because for once, I could let them out freely.
I saw S for the first time since we went to Paris and I’d forgotten what it was like to be around him. Yesterday evening, after having come back from the evening’s activities, we went to the common room and talked. There, I spoke about how I’d been feeling – how I suppressed myself, how I acted differently around other people now, how I let others rule my emotions.
He brings out the actual me in myself without trying. There aren’t many people who can do that – and when you’re feeling like shit, to have someone say to your face that they care and that they always have makes you cry. It certainly did for me: I made some disparaging comments about my tears – “Oooh look, one’s falling down my face!” He didn’t try to fix me or make everything right in one sitting. Instead, he said it was up to me, whilst listening to me. It hit me then that he is somebody who truly gives a shit and even if he wouldn’t state it all the time, I know he does; he wouldn’t just turn round and say “Okay our years of friendship were cool but bye!” After I said that I hated how I presented this part of me to him every time I saw him, he said something along the lines of “You’re just sad-Elm right now and that’s okay – it’s who you are and don’t put up a fake front for others.”
After I left, I cried and felt absolutely wretched inside. My dad was there, holding my hand when he didn’t have to use both for driving. As I was unable to form words, he talked to me about everything really, listening when I could speak as I told him just how lonely I felt. The reason for that is that it’s almost foreign for me now to feel this level of emotion without numbing it: I’ve fucked up recently in terms of others and so almost feel like, sometimes, I shouldn’t let myself feel because I don’t have the right. S pretty much showed me that that was bullshit by taking the time to sit with me, understanding my paranoia but then telling me that the paranoia was unfounded.
Crying is strange. When you cry for the sake of it, it doesn’t hurt so much and leaves you feeling even worse. When you cry because all you feel is sadness and you can’t bloody breathe, afterwards, you feel an aching relief because things don’t burn so much – they’ve cooled to a dull roar. If your tears fall in a service station surrounded by people you don’t know, it’s quite therapeutic because no one tries to pressure you into telling them what’s wrong – the explanation would take a long time.
If you’re feeling awful or you’ve blocked your emotions, my best advice is to tell someone about them. Let them out. Let yourself cry like I did – like I may do later – until the skin under your eyes hurts, until the loneliness isn’t so high because someone’s there to reassure you that yourself is enough.
I’ve figured out that the people I most love and appreciate aren’t the ones who make you explain why you cry. They’re the ones who let you cry, let you explain and then show you that they’d do the same whenever you need it. They’re the ones who don’t try and stop your tears: they understand why they fall without needing a thesis on the reason.
From Elm 🙂