I’m not religious. I’d deem myself spiritual at most– I believe in a higher power, I’d like to believe I have an angel number, I say affirmations here and there. But if I’m moseying around a crystal store and they’re offering tarot card readings when I have an extra $30 to spare, I will gladly put myself in a curtained-off room and believe whatever the cards on the table say if it resonates with me. My mom will always roll her eyes upon hearing that I’ve gotten a reading, but listen with intrigue if I decide to tell her what I took away from it.
While I was home during Christmas break, my friends and I found ourselves in the parking lot of the local crystal shop in my hometown. With a sliver of my Christmas money, I willingly paid the $30 and was excited to sit down across from a stranger who would tell me more about myself while flipping through some cards face-up on a foldable table.
I don’t remember all of what they said to me that day, but they asked if I cry a lot, to which I nodded instantly; most of my emotions manifest themselves through tear-stained cheeks, and I have no ability to stop it. No amount of maturing or growing will lessen the number of tears I cry. My reader nodded with me and assured me of something: “tears are medicinal.”
I’ve never really been ashamed of my tears– my sister and I often joke about how I can cry to any movie, no matter the genre (Sing 2 puts me in tears every single time). I’ve always hated crying in front of people when the tears are over something more than an animated lion singing to a crowd of thousands, though. I’ve hidden in numerous bathrooms to open the floodgates that are my tear ducts and move on with my day. I’ve perfected how to make it seem as though I was simply going to the bathroom for its functional use– not to fight off an oncoming panic attack or respond to a text that made my eyes water a little too much.
But if I get caught with a stray tear on my cheek, though my cheeks might flush, I know I shouldn’t be embarrassed. It’s a sign that I’m healing from whatever caused the state of my puffy eyes, or got out whatever emotion was overwhelming my brain. I’m free of something that was fogging my every thought. Tears are medicinal– letting it all out isn’t something that makes you a baby or weaker than others, it makes you human. To cry is a gift, not an ailment.
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