Hands Off My Misery

If you stop me from my crying, you are the human equivalent of ‘Waiting for Godot’.

I thought seeing other people miserable makes people secretly satisfied. “Don’t tell others your problems, 80% don’t want to hear tem and the other 20% are glad you have them” and all that jazz. In that case, trying to forcefully cheer up a crying person must make people feel even gladder, if their enthusiasm in smothering a crying person with unwanted soothing is any indication.

Crying is fine. Crying is okay. Crying is necessary. Then why does everyone treat a crying person like someone teetering on the roof of the Burj Dubai? Crying is not equal to a declaration of suicidal tendencies. Therefore, the excessive ‘shush’ing and ‘hush’ing and constantly trying to wipe my tears away is simply an annoying invasion of my personal space. It interrupts me, my catharsis.

Aristotle laid it out pretty clearly in his “Poetics”, the absolute Bible of all things beginning with the word Greek, Tragedy, or Drama. he said that a tragic play performs a vital function in Athenian society – by arousing pity and fear in the audience, it heightens them to such a pitch that the audience is forced to cry, thus purging them of those dark and damaging emotions. So, the experience of watching a play and subsequently crying, purified the audience. Crying helped them to emerge more clear-headed and stable. This is the concept of “catharsis”.

Modern tragedies keep denying catharsis, refusing to let us cry, therefore keeping the audience in a state of fidgety discomfort and uneasiness. If you stop me from my crying, you are the human equivalent of ‘Waiting for Godot’. Or Anthony’s hilarious suicide-fail from ol’ Shakespeare’s Anthony and Cleopatra. And denying catharsis through crying is a strategy to keep us feeling miserable; to not allow us to forget our problems.

So leave me to my catharsis if you want me to feel better already!

All of us know how it is to be miserable. Nothing makes me even more miserable than someone stealing my miserableness. Or sabotaging it. Yes you know what I’m talking about: those people who refuse us our moment of intense self-pity, and insist that we stop crying THIS INSTANT. Or worse, that “This is nothing to cry about.’ Or worst, “It could be worse.”

In case I haven’t made it clear, here’s what the problem is. If I’m upset enough something to cry about it, then its safe to say that the emotion is in excess of what I can normally express. The simplest way to get rid of this is to let it out. Cry it all out. Once I have, equilibrium is restored, and voila: back to normal. But hang on, it’s not that simple. No one, if they catch you crying, will let you go free.

Oh no.

Crying makes 99.99% people in this world look buck-ugly, too. At least it does me. That’s why I *don’t* like people to see me cry, and do all my weeping in the privacy of my ivory tower. If by some unfortunate circumstance crying ‘happens’ in public, let me flee to the nearest bathroom in peace. It’s as compulsive as needing to take a dump. You wouldn’t like it if someone kept whispering through the stall door, saying, “don’t shit, bub”, or “I’m there for you or, (this is the WORST) “Give us a smile”.

It is an overweening *moral* duty of some sort to come to the cryee(/)’s rescue, stroking, hugging and patting. If you were going for unobtrusive, too bad. People manage to actually make you feel guilty about crying, as if you’ve somehow personally offended them by being unhappy. Or insulted their sparkling personality by being such a big wet ball of tears.

Freedom to cry. That’s all I want. No one cries for fun (if you do you are a mean, manipulative asshole), so it seems fair to allow crying people some space and some dignity.

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