Release Your Sadness

I’ve always avoided crying, especially in front of other people, though I’m not exactly sure why. I think that somewhere along the line, I started associating crying with weakness. I never wanted others to see my tears or exploit them. So each time the tears started building, I stuffed that sadness deep inside, desperately hoping that nothing would ever release it.

Unfortunately, my soul became like a closet, stuffed to the brim with pain and sorrow. For years, I suffered in silence. I learned to mask my feelings and show the outside world a vibrant, happy person. I survived the turbulent years of college and the bleak beginnings of post-graduate job hunting. 

Finally, the most unexpected event brought me to my knees: a miscarriage.

The day I woke up bleeding, I didn’t stuff my sadness down inside my soul. Instead, I released my tears for the world to see. I cried the entire way to work. I started sobbing uncontrollably in front of my boss as I explained to him why I needed to leave for an unexpected appointment. The tears rolled down in uncomfortable silence as the ultrasound technician desperately tried to detect any signs of life inside my uterus. I cried until no more tears fell from my eyes, and then I screamed in agony.

Regardless of the heartache I experienced that day, I actually gained something even better: the realization that sometimes it’s OK to release the sadness.

That day, nobody called me “weak” or took advantage of my delicate state. In fact, I received an outpouring of support and sympathy that I’d never experienced before. Although I know that becoming a Moaning Myrtle isn’t wise, I now know that it’s safe to cry from time to time.

Now, I try to release those painful feelings whenever I get the chance. When I feel my face flushing or eyes welling up, I tell myself that my feelings are OK. I allow myself permission to scream or cry, to provide an outlet for my feelings. 

I now know that it’s safe to release that pain, if only for just a moment. There’s no need to suffer in silence. Showing the world your pain is not a sign of weakness, nor does it make you any less amazing. Believe it or not, we all deserve that feeling of release.

Megan Glosson

Megan Glosson is an avid writer and editor. She is an advocate for mental health and disabilties. Megan resides in Murfreesboro, Tennessee.

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