Crying: The Sport Nobody Trains For
Let’s talk about crying. Not the cute, single tear rolling down your cheek like in the movies. Nope! I mean the full-on ugly cry—face all scrunched up, snot everywhere, making weird noises like a baby goat in distress. The kind of cry where somebody asks, “Are you okay?” and you just shake your head because words aren’t possible.
Now, for a long time, I thought crying was for weak people. I was one of those “I don’t cry” people. Then life said, “Oh really?” and hit me with stress, toddlers, and surprise bills. Next thing I knew, I was crying over a missing Chick-fil-A fry like I lost a family member.
I don’t cry all the time, but when I do, it’s usually over something ridiculous, like:
1. Dropping my food. (A moment of silence for the taco that never made it to my mouth.)
2. A sad commercial. (Why do they show babies growing up in fast forward?? One second, they’re in diapers, the next they’re getting married! Excuse me? I just got Christian! Why do I need to think about him leaving me for some girl already? No, ma’am.)
3. My child calling another woman “Mommy” in the grocery store. (Sir, I carried you for nine months, and you betray me like this?!)
4. Thinking about laundry. (Why is it always there? Why does it never end? WHO is wearing all these clothes?!)
5. Sitting in church, thinking about how God has kept me. (One minute, I’m fine. The next, the choir hits that one note, and now I’m full-on praise crying like I just won an Oscar.)
But let’s be clear—I don’t cry over pain. Oh no, I get mad at pain. If I stub my toe, I don’t tear up. I stand there, fuming, ready to fight the table that dared to disrespect me. I will side-eye that thing for days like it had a personal vendetta against me.
But you know what? Crying is actually helpful. It’s like an emotional reset button. You let it all out so you don’t end up snapping at some poor stranger who just asked, “How’s your day?”
So, I say cry when you need to! Cry in the car, cry in the shower, cry in the grocery store when you realize eggs cost more than your first car. Cry in church when that song hits just right, and you remember how far God has brought you. And if anybody judges you, just tell them you’re training for the Crying Olympics. Gold medalist, baby!
