Go Ahead, Make Me Cry
The emotional and physical benefits of a good snot session
I met a friend for lunch yesterday. While we casually chatted over hot wings and spinach dip on the outdoor patio of a quaint Irish pub, a song started to play that caused my thoughts to drift.
As he continued talking, I was blindsided with a memory that overshadowed the conversation and I felt that familiar welling-up of tears. My friend paused and asked what was wrong.
I couldn’t speak, so I turned my head away in an attempt to regain my composure. The ferocity of my emotions that I’d managed to keep at bay through the holidays, now seized my body and were letting me know any resistance now was futile.
Shit.
They were taking over, right here in front of the many unsuspecting — and now concerned — patrons who couldn’t help but stare. And there was nothing I could do about it.
My friend was used to these occasional bouts of random grief, but I noticed his uneasiness begin to rise.
“Stop,” he sternly ordered. “Stop doing this to yourself. I hate seeing you hurt.”
Although he meant well, what he didn’t understand was that he was doing me more harm than good by trying to distract me.
