I'll Cry If I Want To: The Healing Power Of Tears
Motherhood continues to be a steep learning curve for me. As I reflect upon the past 15 months since giving birth, I realise that the scope of things I have learned has been quite extensive. There are things on a basic survival level – like changing a diaper while half asleep in the pitch black of night – and there are things on an emotional level that may sound cliché but ring true, like discovering that my heart is indeed capable of a love I never would’ve thought possible.
However, one of the most profound things I’ve learned, and will continue to learn, is that while I can protect my son from physical harm (say, perhaps, preventing another kid from pushing him on the playground), I will never be able to protect him from feeling harm (those emotions of powerlessness and hurt from being pushed). I’m referring, more specifically, to emotions like sadness, loneliness, fear and frustration.
In practicing being lovingly present for my child while he experiences big emotions, I have been learning to be lovingly present with myself.
To sit with my son through his tears and tantrums has transformed my relationship to my own feelings, bridging the way to a part of me that has lay hidden away. This, in turn, has inspired a different way of being.
The healing power of tears is not new to me, both in my own personal journey and in my practice. As a kinesiologist, I help to locate and defuse energetic stresses for clients. But really, like any other kind of therapist, I hold space for people to grow through what they go through. In this process, tears are always welcome. Feeling and moving through painful emotions shifts your energy and your perspective, which makes way for healing to take place. Since becoming a mother, I noticed that there was a disconnect between me being present and creating a safe container for my clients, to being able to do so with my baby while he cried.
I believe that humans are born knowing intuitively what they need to heal. I strive to parent in a way that respects that. Let me just preface my sharing by making it clear that I trust each parent and what resonates most for each of us. There is no right or wrong, no one size fits all parenting style. I’m a co-sleeping, baby-wearing, elimination communication, baby-led weaning kind of mama. I’m also a mama who needs her sleep. Back at seven months, there were nights where my son would wake often, and I would comfort him by immediately placing him on the breast. I intuitively felt it wasn’t what he actually needed, nor was it a sustainable solution. Comfort nursing appeared to soothe him, only for him to wake within the next few hours restless again. I was wracking my brains (and Google) for an approach that would meet both our needs for secure attachment and sleep, when a friend recommended The Aware Parenting Podcast episode on sleep. Aware Parenting is a philosophy based on the work of developmental psychologist Aletha Solter. I was intrigued and explored further. In her book, The Aware Baby, she states that there are two reasons for crying in babies: to communicate a need—like hunger, holding, change in position, stimulation, etc.—and healing, in order to release tension from physical and emotional stress.
So, what was the solution to better sleep from an Aware Parenting perspective? Granted that you have met your baby’s needs, hold them lovingly while they cry.
The very thought of that filled me with fear. But I also resonated so deeply with it, especially with the assumption that babies have feelings and know what they need to self-regulate, which includes the need to be heard, and to release stress and tension by crying. We decided to give it a shot. At bedtime, my son was draped over my shoulder and wailing loudly in my ear, and the urge to bounce and sing to him was overwhelming. I felt my distress rise at seeing the tears well up in his eyes and stream down his face.
“I’m here. It’s OK to cry,” was my mantra.
I remembered Dr. Solter’s words, that crying itself was not the hurt—it is the process of becoming unhurt. After an hour, his tears ceased and I felt his body relax. I slowly lay him down and he stayed there with his arms flung above his head. I had never seen him so relaxed. This was my a-ha moment. After a week of catching up on tears, he’s been sleeping through the night ever since.
This experience has inspired me to adopt a similar approach to my own feelings. When I am restless, reactive, or feeling down, I’m conscious that there may be some repressed emotions at play, and that simply having someone’s non-judgmental presence may be all it takes to get the waterworks going. And, of course, that I will feel much lighter afterwards.
The Anatomy of a Tear
Of all mammals, human beings are the only ones known to cry in response to emotional stress. We feel better after we cry. Science supports this and also tells us that all tears are not created equal: Tears shed while cutting an onion are not the same to those accompanying an emotional response. Dr. William Frey, a biochemist who has studied the chemical composition of tears, has suggested that tears may help us to relieve stress by excreting stress hormones to restore homeostasis.
We humans come equipped with the tools to move through stresses and trauma, but sometimes that isn’t supported—and we learn coping mechanisms that affect us negatively later on in life, like distraction, addiction, numbing, dissociating, etc. We become disconnected from our feelings, and our bodies, which ultimately takes a toll on our health and well-being.
There is evidence that those with stress-related disorders were shown to cry less than those who were healthy. What does this say about our culture where “good” girls and boys don’t cry? Or where children are at best “seen and not heard”? And where men crying is not supported or encouraged? How has this contributed to dis-ease and how do we build a culture that truly supports good health?
In holding space for my son’s tears, I’ve had to be more in touch with my own. As parents, we are invited to observe and guide with empathy, kindness and understanding. I’m learning to observe and guide myself, too, with that same compassion and a good dose of grace. It’s a work in progress. I think it always will be.
Whether you are a parent or not, there is healing in loving presence—with ourselves and with each other. Our feelings are sacred. Learning the process of un-hurting is healthy.
When in the presence of vulnerability—in another as well as on our own—instead of searching for solutions or quelling it with an “it’s OK,” try this mantra, from Marion Rose’s Inner Loving Mother practice:
I’m here with you.
I’m listening.
I love you exactly as you are.
Hi Lovely,
I’m Lia, and I help parents and caregivers by providing Aware Parenting support, an approach that focuses on secure attachment, discipline without punishments or rewards, and the prevention and healing of stress and trauma. I believe that this approach has the capacity to make the world a better place. If this resonates, I invite you to learn more, or subscribe to my newsletter here.