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Why you should not feel bad about crying

Nishtha Juneja explains how crying can become an expressive tool in the process of self-healing.

When he left, my world collapsed. I felt my heart splitting into a million pieces just like a mirror would shatter upon breaking. Reflecting through every shred was a glimpse of my broken heart. The world became colourless. Humour left jokes. Smile left my lips. It was a case of unrequited love. I loved him, and he loved me not.

 

When he left, he wasn’t rude to me, he wasn’t mean to me, he wasn’t brash with me, he just wasn’t into me. He came, created a storm in my life and went away. He ran away. He also ran away with a part of my heart, a part of my soul. Strangely, I don’t want it back, I want him to keep it. And I don’t blame him for not loving me back.   

When he left, he left a void inside of me. He made me question if I loved myself or not. I could not come to the answer directly. It took me endless nights of crying to come to the conclusion that maybe, I need to start loving myself, and only then, I can love someone else. Being extremely emphatic and sensitive, I never had any inhibitions about crying. I used the medium of tears to overcome sadness, loss or grief. Tears come naturally to me, and I never stop them. And, after every cathartic spell of crying, I felt better.

When he left, I started the process of self-healing, which is never easy. But when you take the first step, you cannot go back. I cried almost every night. On some days, his face flashed in front of my eyes making it impossible for me to contain my emotions. On such days, I would think about all the things I would want to do with him; only to come to the realization that these fantasies are only a figment of my imagination. And I cried a bit. I would replay moments spent with him in my mind. I would fantasize having a future with him. I would wait for his call, glancing at my phone every two minutes. The call never came. I waited for him. But I never saw him again. And I cried a bit more.

When he left, every person I spoke to about him told me to move on. No one understood that maybe he was more than a fling. Maybe he wasn’t another random guy I met at a club. I don’t expect anyone else to understand either. Everyone was trying to help. But their sympathy and suggestions made things worse.

When he left, I only found solace in crying. Just sitting with myself and crying. Just lying on my bed and crying. Just standing in front of the mirror and crying. And every time I let the tears flow, a piece of my broken heart mended itself. Every tear became glue and stitched my heart. It was mending, it was healing, it was becoming whole again. Instead of making me weaker person, crying and venting my feelings made me a stronger person who is not afraid to love again.

He left me feeling overwhelmed, vulnerable, lost and confused. And I healed myself drop by drop.
 

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NEXT STORY


Even the vacuum he left behind is too precious to let go…

Khubi Amin Ahmed pens how she dealt with the loss of a loved one

As I sit to write a piece about me surviving the loss of my Nanu, my grandfather, my parent, my best friend, my confidant, my guide, my philosopher and more; I am not sure losing which of those hurt the most. It was an irreparable loss is all I know.  I am not sure – for the first time as a writer – how to pen this emotion down. I lost my paternal grandfather. That is just how blankly I can put it.

No one from my family had the courage to break the news to me. They waited for me to reach home and see it for myself. Once I saw him there – wrapped in white (a color he had always preferred), his face as peaceful as it always was – I can’t say what it felt like. I didn’t feel anything. I was numb. I probably cried. I have no memory. I remember feeling nothing. If that nothing qualifies as pain, I don’t know. I wonder if it was denial (one of the stages of grief).

I remember I held his face in my hands, told him to not leave me behind alone. That is me being as selfish as I had always been with him. I couldn’t believe he had left without meeting me. I don’t really remember any more of that day. Come to think of it, I don’t remember days after that. I think I kept sleeping in Nanu’s bed, wrapped myself in his blanket and tried to hold on to his essence for as long as I could.

One day, I remember being woken up and told that more than a week had gone by. I was reminded that I have a job and that I have to decide if I plan to go back to it. An aunt of mine also asked if I was ready to meet boys for my wedding. I remember not knowing how to deal with her.       

However bad the hurt and however devastating it may seem now, loss and grief they said is a part of growing up. We all lose people along the way and learn to accept it eventually. “Time heals all wounds.” “We are designed to recover.” “You need to move on.” “Let go.” All that and more was being thrown at me with much love and pity. While I trust their intentions, I could never get them to understand that it is the very thought of having to let go that is the most painful part! “I won’t let go of him I had said.” 

I still haven’t. I never will. Why would I want to let go of the most precious part of my life. I will cherish him and hold him close. I will keep him alive in my value system, in my beliefs. I owe him everything that I am today. I will live life like he taught me to. I will not let life weigh me down. I will live life to make him proud. He lives on in me, more than he does in his immediate kids. I will hold him close and keep drawing positivity and inspiration from him. He is the source of my faith and will always be. He is alive in me, and in my name.

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