I have always been sensitive. And I’ve always hated that word with the fury of a thousand hurt feelings.
Sensitivity was pathetic, weak, a lot of work. I saw no redemptive quality in having a heart that bruised like a peach. I envied the way life would bounce off the thick skin of my friends, while piercing me to my core.
In response to the harsh hallways at school I became tough, thick-skinned, or at least I tried to be—leaving me defensive and lonely as I tried to hide my squishy insides.
But last year I began a journey of making friends with my emotions—learning for the first time that there might be some redeeming quality to my tender, baby heart.
And only now can I finally admit that I’m a major crier.
Beauty, tragedy, little things, huge stuff, it doesn’t matter—my emotions escape my eyes and slip down my cheeks before my brain has the chance to intervene.
And for the first time, I’m actually not ashamed. I’ve welcomed my emotions in as a part of me—miraculously, one of my new favorites—instead of shoving them away hoping they’d disappear with neglect.
I have a mentor who I just love to pieces. Her name is Jackie and she’s beautiful and wise and really, really funny.
But one of my favorite parts about Jackie is how much she cries.
When it comes to something beautiful, or something hard, something switches in her heart and tears begin to pool in her ocean-blue eyes. She’s not weeping, or even crying really—just continuing on as tears release peacefully one by one.
Her tears speak of pain and struggle and her resolve to overcome—of sorrow for those who have been wronged, and her determination to fight for redemption. Her tears remind me of Jesus. They mourn, they fight, and they’re not afraid of the depth and ferocity that it takes to truly love.
Jackie’s tears aren’t weak. They’re a picture of strength. They’re holy.
And so it’s partly Jackie that has given me permission to cry, but it’s also been Carl.
I think girls try not to cry in front of boys because it can make them really uncomfortable. I’ve poured out my heart and my tear ducts in front of guys who, in response, awkwardly reach over to pat my knee, or worse, ask me not to cry.
I felt needy when I cried in front of guys—wanting to be as little work as possible, and to be able to control my emotions with swift, low-maintenance efficiency.
But as I cried for much of our first six months of dating (not because we started dating), Carl showed me right away that tears didn’t phase him, and even better, that he could be trusted with the deep places of my sensitive, peachy soul.
And he sees the tenderest tears when something really beautiful happens.
It can happen anywhere—in the drive-through at Starbucks, watching a dad giggle with his little girl, an older couple holding hands, or a really well-done commercial. Love, kindness, compassion, and some generic goodness are enough to wring out my tear ducts completely.
And in those moments—Carl wraps an arm around me, and kisses the top of my head—affirming in one smooth motion that he sees the place in my heart where the tears come from, and that he sees the beauty too.
It’s easy for us to believe that emotions are a sign of weakness—something embarrassing that make you a lot of work.
But I just don’t believe it anymore.
Our tears allow us to enter into life with the people around us. They say, you’re not alone, or I hear you, or me too. Each time we cry it takes down that wall that we build around ourselves to keep us protected. And as we allow emotions to flow in and flow out, we’re opening ourselves up to live.
All we need is a bit of permission.
Are there parts of you that you’ve always considered a weakness? What would happen if you gave yourself the permission to see them as a strength?
Loved this article!! Have shared the link its a message that everyone needs to hear 🙂
Thank you so much!
I remember being at training camp and going to my squad mom because I thought something in me was broken because I wasn’t crying. I often ask God to give me those squishy peachy insides, the ones that absorb and overflow others joy, pain, and love. After experiencing my own pain and as I get older, I’ve noticed the waterworks come more often – thankfully. I love your tender heart (what part
I know through your blog) and I celebrate it with you.
Reblogged this on beyondthesurface1993 and commented:
Needed to read this and I can’t resist sharing it. Maybe it will help someone else as much as it helped me.
I’m so glad it was helpful! 🙂
Thanks so much for sharing this, Stephanie! My lack of crying the past few years was one of the biggest indicators that my heart had hardened and become self-defensive. I’m working on getting back to that place of vulnerability, trust and beautiful emotion in my own life and was very encouraged by this post!
Oh I love that Jennifer. I think you’re absolutely correct. Our tears (or lack thereof) say a lot about where we are in life. I’m so glad that you’re moving towards a place of vulnerability!
This is beautiful as always. Yes, crying does not have to be a sign of weakness, but of acknowledging the beauty of this world.
Thank you Leelee!
Steph, I had to go back and re-read the chapter in Max Lucado’s ‘No Wonder They Call Him a Savior’ that refers to tears. Its called Miniture Messengers, and Lucado gave me permission to let the tears flow. He says this, “Its not just tears that are the issue, its what they represent. They represent the heart, spirit and soul of a person. To put a lock and key on your emotions is to bury part of your Christlikeness. (from Chronicles of the Cross). So, open up the floodgates and let those tears fall, ~jackie
Love you Jackie. 🙂
This post was amazing. As I continued to read on, I kept nodding my head. I, too, was everything that you said. An emotional (wreck?) girl. I always thought that I was the tough one. Other girls cried all the time. But as I found my way with God and met other people on the same path, I was able to let walls down and cry. I’m not afraid to cry in front of my boyfriend. Carl reminds me so much of Angel. When we first met, I cried too! I was so happy because God had answered my prayers (and Angel had noticed me). Like Carl, Angel never says a peep, but just embraces me when I cry. That will always say so much more than him saying something to me.
xo Jess
JESSCLASSY
Jess I’m so glad this resonated with you. And I’m so glad that you’re letting those tears fall. Angel sounds wonderful. 🙂
“Her tears remind me of Jesus. They mourn, they fight, and they’re not afraid of the depth and ferocity that it takes to truly love.” Beautiful words!
Thank you Tara!
I love how beautifully you wrote this! I’m 28, and I’m still learning to embrace my sensitivity as who God made me. It’s been a rough journey though. Thank you for reminding that it’s ok to cry.
Thank you so much Naomi! It really is ok. Blessings to you on the journey.
Yes, yes. Me too! YES
I love that! 🙂
So good 🙂
I relate to this so much!
Thank you Alyssa! I’m so glad!
Such beautiful and true words, I’m certain every woman would be blessed to read this!!
Thank you Emily. What sweet words. 🙂
Thank you for this beautiful blog and for giving me permission to cry! I love crying and often ask myself why people avoid it. Glad I am not alone in this. Lol.
You most definitely are not alone. Thanks so much for reading Desirae!
Have you learned about energy profiling, yet ? Just sounds like you are a Type 2 🙂 you’re fine the way you are !
Dressingyourtruth.com by carol tuttle
Amazing blog as usual.
Reblogged this on hughrobertsblog.
I love this because even in the middle of a peach, there is a strong pit. It doesn’t mean the fruit isn’t strong because the outside isn’t. 🙂
I read this to about 5 people and they were all so impressed. I too have been a crier and it has held the stigma you talk about here. I think it takes a lot of strength to allow yourself to go deep enough to cry, especially to allow others to see you when you cry. Thanks so much for sharing this important part of yourself.