Clogged Faucet

Sometimes you just want to cry, you just need to cry… but I often can’t, or won’t… I’m honestly not sure which.  Have you ever really had to sneeze but the darn thing just won’t come out?  That’s the way I feel about my tears.  You feel the emotional burn building up, churring and straining to emerge but alas… there’s no release.  No amount of looking at the sun, sniffing, watching a sad movie or thinking more depressing thoughts will break the seal which has thickened over my tear ducts from years of lies.

Growing up in an abusive environment children are often taught that their emotions are either bad and punished or rather completely disregarded.  My situation was no different.  You couldn’t cry in front of a man you were supposed to have sex with. (Because that, not the fact that I was a child, was unattractive.)  And I couldn’t cry at home either.

I remember a specific instance where I was undergoing some horrific torture for some unknown reason.  The details of this event aren’t necessary to discuss here but the backs of my legs were violently stinging and I was crying– a HUGE no, no and luxury I rarely allowed myself to take part in.  It just hurt too bad.  There are a couple of things which stick out in my memory about that event but one element is not about the abuse at all.  Someone had just left the room where this was taking place because he was so upset and couldn’t handle it.  I then heard my mother say, “See look what you did! All of your carrying on has made him so upset he’s had to leave!”  I was forever shamed.

Crying can be a healthy release and should be allowed as children and as adults, as a male or as a female.  Sure, there’s an appropriate time and place for everything, but it shouldn’t be looked upon as a shameful expression.  I still to this day have a hard time.  It’s rare that I don’t feel embarrassed at my own tears falling.  It makes me feel uncomfortable and vulnerable… as if crying boldly denotes great weakness.  The converse though is that in private, I hate that this part of my emotions still isn’t fully integrated.  It’s better, but still not there.  I’ll fix my faucet one of these days.

May this blog serve as an education to those who do not yet know or understand the atrocities of trafficking and may it serve as an encouragement to those who understand it all too well.

(Post originally written 3/7/12)
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