A View of a Difficult Day

Nothing helps ease the pain of grief like the joy of laughter.

"Speed Bump" by Michigan's own Dave Coverly is a great comic strip. Read, laugh, and share.

Today was a very difficult day.

It was one of the first things my boss said to me this morning. She's still coming to terms with the loss of her mother who died about two weeks ago. Her mother was an amazing woman - smart, funny, strong, and full of love. My boss is very much like her mother, and it's been hard to watch her cope with her loss. Today was especially difficult because she did something I've only seen or heard her do once before.


She began to cry. It was out of nowhere. She called this morning to check in and, as she ran through her schedule for the day, she noted that she had to go to the dentist for a routine cleaning. The appointment was always set up so that her mother would go at the same time for her cleaning. This was her first appointment alone in many years, and having to cancel her mother's appointment brought her to tears.


The difficult part was not the fact that she was crying, but that it felt like there was nothing I could do to help. She apologized to me for the tears, which almost made me cry. It felt as though I should be the one offering the apology for only being able to say, "Don't apologize, just let it out." It felt like more should be done. What, I don't know. I gave her a moment to pull herself together, to let the tears flow. She quickly pulled herself together, and we talked for a few more minutes about the day ahead, about her mom, and about moving forward.


The day didn't get much easier. It was an unspeakably hot day and no one could get comfortable in the office. Some were too hot, others were too cold - there was no middle ground. A training session to go over a new piece of office equipment got delayed because of a configuration issue. I was behind because my day started with my cable going out, which led to a much too long call to a customer service rep walking me through steps I'd done at least three times before calling before she finally announced that I needed a service call - what I asked for in the first place. I went out at lunch to buy some salad dressing for the salad I remembered to bring for lunch, only to discover that I'd left my bank card on my desk.


The day became even more difficult when I learned that Farrah Fawcett had died. When I was a kid, I dreamed of being Jill Munroe - complete with the flowing hair, flirty charm, and cool Mustang Cobra. Years later, it was a treat to discover she had true acting talent in work like "Extremities" and "The Burning Bed." I came to admire Farrah during her battle with cancer - she was kick ass enough to help catch health care workers leaking her medical information. Reading about her passing felt like a part of my childhood had gone. She was only 62 - much too young to be gone so soon.

Then I got home, turned on the TV and (before the cable went out - again) heard that Michael Jackson was in a coma. Then I heard that the hospital he was in was being closed off and crowds were gathering. Then I heard my mom through the ceiling.

"OH NO! NO, NO, NO!"

That's when I knew he was gone. Such a troubled life. Such sparkling talent. Such a sad, tragic death. I could tell by the sound of my mother's voice that she was about to cry. When she came to my front door ready for me to take her to work, the first thing out of her mouth was an apology.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I don't know why I'm crying." Then, after a second, I made a joke to help her pull herself together, and we went back to the routine of the day. On the ride to work, we listened to the radio for news about Michael's passing and talked about Farrah's death. I thought about my boss, who's in the midst of settling her mother's last affairs. I thought about the people left behind - how they must be feeling, the hurt they must feel, the love that my boss's mother, that Farrah, that Michael gave to everyone they touched.

And I tried not to cry. More later, but not before saying rest in peace.

A View of the Tracks of Non-Tears

This is my favorite song about crying. Ironic that the way Amy's squandered her talent is enough to bring a person to tears, isn't it?

I hate crying and I rarely do it. To me, crying is what happens when you can't think of anything else to do. I don't deal with not being able to think of anything else to do, running out of options, not having any other steps to take.

When I've told people this, they've inevitably said some variation of one basic idea - you feel better after a good cry. Maybe for them, but not so much for me unless it's a case where I've laughed so hard it produced tears. But that's not really crying, is it? When I cry, I'm usually angry. Or scared. Or frustrated. Or have suffered a loss. Or a combination of some uncomfortable and negative emotions. After I'm done, I'm headachy, tired, and drained - plus the initial emotions that produced the tears are still there in some form. On top of feeling drained, I still have the task of thinking of some sort of solution to the initial problem ahead of me.

It's almost enough to make you cry again when you think about it. The only people who benefit from a good cry, at least from my viewpoint, are the folks at Kimberly-Clark and Proctor & Gamble. People have told me that I'm just trying to be tough and strong, and that I might be afraid to cry. The belief people project on the healing powers of tears is very strong, and I've never had a reliable comeback to argue against it.

Until now. I read a report on the New York Times website about research into the cathartic power of crying published in the journal "Current Directions in Psychological Science." Turns out that, for some people, having a "good cry" allows for a recovery of mental balance. In others, it just leads to emotional confusion. They found that crying is infectious, much like laughing or yawning. When we cry and how we cry is a combination of biochemical and cultural factors - women (surprise, surprise) tend to cry more easily and more often them men. As for that feeling that you feel better after a cry? Well, that may be a matter of selective memory - the catharsis comes after the episode has passed. The study also found that crying varies from person to person, and that the more people who are around when a person cries, the more cathartic the cry is to the person doing it. In other words, people cry socially for attention.

The article also mentioned a book called "Seeing Through Tears: Crying and Attachment," by Judith Kay Nelson. She argues that crying has its roots in childhood. Children, especially the very young with limited use of language, use crying to get attention from their parents and regulate mood. If you had a soothing, attentive parent as a kid, chances are you love a good cry. If your parent believed in staying strong or became upset when you cried, you are probably don't find crying all that comforting.

My sister and I had a very loving mom, a dad whose personality was like a cross between Samuel Jackson and Dave Chappelle. My sister will cry over anything - I still tease her about how she cries every year when she watches "Frosty the Snowman," especially when he melts at the end. I rarely cry and if I feel the urge, I'll fight it tougher than Ali beating down Frazier. I don't know why we have this difference, but it felt so good when I read this article that I almost cried.

Then, thinking of something else to do, I decided to post this entry instead. More later, after I get this dust out of my eye.