The cure for anything is salt water: sweat, tears, or the sea.

When I was in the deepest trenches of grief, I thought often of this beautiful quote from the Danish author Isak Dinesen. While I did use all three of these salt water sources in my grieving process, I most certainly relied on tears the most.

I didn’t know it was possible to cry so much. I would think that surely I was out of tears, and another wave would come crashing down a few hours later. This was a daily ritual for me multiple times a day for at least six months after Stephen died. I would start sobbing when a song of ours would come on in the grocery store. I would walk my dog down the street, wiping tears from my eyes the whole way. I am not ashamed to cry in public. Any reasonable person would if they’d been in my shoes the last couple years.

I recently had an epic meltdown in an airport, trying to get down to Jacksonville for the weekend to visit friends. A wind storm in the Midwest was wreaking havoc on air travel. Every single flight from the Grand Rapids airport was either cancelled or delayed. (Note to self: do not travel on Friday the 13th.) My first flight was cancelled after being delayed for nearly four hours, so I calmly proceeded to find a flight with another airline. That flight was delayed several times, but I eventually made it to O’Hare. I’d spent all day in airports, and my flight to Jacksonville was being delayed. Over and over again. I could feel the pressure in my head building, trying to keep myself composed, but I could feel that I was losing it. I was long overdue for an ugly cry in a public space.

The air travel debacles of the day were a breaking point for me. I had been carrying a lot of stress the last few weeks as I was working through some personal challenges, and in the midst of all my hard work, I was keeping my feelings bottled up and trying to not become emotional. I work very hard to reframe life experiences and find the positive in everything, but sometimes you have to take a break from that and just say “This sucks!”

So I called my mom and just started sobbing. About everything that had been going on the last couple months. And sure, I felt mildly embarrassed to be having this meltdown in a very busy airport, but it had to happen. It started a series of waterworks that came in waves on and off for about twelve hours. I eventually made it on the plane, then had a good long cry in the airplane bathroom. Then had another good cry when I got into the rental car. Then had another good cry when I finally made it to my hotel room at 1:15 in the morning. Got a little sleep, then cried some more. And eventually, I started to feel my mood gradually lift. I’d fallen into a dark place, but the tears had somehow helped me to find the strength to face the day.

I think our culture needs to be more accepting of crying, especially for men. Did you know there’s a host of health benefits to crying?

I’m happy to say that after my bout of ugly crying, I was able to move forward and have a fantastic weekend. I walked out of that hotel to a gorgeous warm sunny day, I took some long walks in the woods and on the beach, and had nourishing conversations with friends. My tears had transformed my mental state. Everything suddenly felt manageable again.

So when you find yourself in a state of overwhelm and you just can’t figure out how to move forward, let yourself have a good ugly cry.

Crying doesn’t mean you’re weak… Sometimes it’s what you need to do to get strong again.

_{J.W. Lynne}