The Art of Breaking Down

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I rarely cry in public. In fact, I'm pretty sure I can count the amount of times I have done so in my lifetime on one hand. Each one holds as a strong memory in my head because, again, it just doesn't happen.

I do, however, cry to my husband, in the comfort of my own home, surrounded by someone who I know loves me and will not think less of me for doing so.

In public, I'm scared.

I'm guarded.

I want people to like me and I don't want them to think I am weak or Heaven forbid, a cryer.

Because don't we equate tears to weakness?

And yet, I am saying that I cry in front of my husband because I'm comfortable and know he loves me. He won't judge me.

I am saying that others will. They might make fun of me behind closed doors. They may laugh, poke fun.

Not only am I putting limits on myself, I am imposing ideas of how others will respond.

Emily Freeman often speaks of tears in her writing.

She tells us to pay attention to what makes us cry. What moves us to the point of tears, because they are coming from a place of importance, a place that deserves attention.

Growing up, I was someone to count on. I was the peacemaker of my family, the one who didn't want to cause too much trouble. I wanted, so desperately to come off as the easy going one, the one who didn't need much comforting or help. All of this in the midst of divorce, betrayal, feelings of abandonment. I was hanging on by a thread.

During my first year of marriage, I found myself crying a lot. At 22, I was living in a foreign country where I didn't know the language, sharing a small apartment with a man I had never lived with before, far away from anything familiar, including friends and family.

Change was more constant than consistency. And I would cry.

It was a breakdown. Because eventually the thread we are hanging on breaks and our hearts get to heavy to hold by ourselves. Our bodies respond with tears.

Each time I experience this breakdown I am reminded that I cannot handle this on my own strength, my own will. I am desperately dependent on something greater.

Through tears, God reminds us that we need him. Through tears we are reminded of our humanity and the exhale that a breakdown can allow.