The line is fine, so incredibly fine and difficult to see, but I feel it. I carry it around with me daily and it’s heavy.
I compare it to how Halloween is sometimes described. There is a thin line between the spiritual world and real life as we know it. This is how I feel in relation to crying. There is a thin line between myself simply experiencing life, and truly feeling for people in an entirely new way, which brings me to tears. My empathy is heightened, expansive, throbbing, and mind blowing. This is completely new and unfamiliar to me.
I get choked up with ease. This may happen when I hear someone sharing a story of a sick family member, or when I feel an incredible sense of community, or when I see people living their passion. At these times, when I speak, it’s difficult to understand me. My voice crackles and they speak slowly. With a few deep breaths, I can sometimes bypass the tears. Other times the tears sprinkle my eyelashes or dribble down my face.
Yes, my neurologist shares with me, this is part of the disease.
I used to never cry. I hardly ever wanted to cry. If the desire to cry came to me, I fought the tears so much, my jaw hurt.
My jaw never hurts anymore. I’m unable to hold back the tears.