So, I'm a crybaby...

I cry on the bus and I cry in the street and I cry in the shower. When I had my heart broken last spring, I cried like some sort of dying animal while lying on the kitchen floor. The neighbours living beneath me started knocking on my door and leaving concerned notes.

For the longest time, I thought that my sensitivity made me a lesser person. I longed to be apathetic and a little bit mean, like how I imagine Scarlett Johansson is in real life. I even decided to keep a tally to see how long I could go without crying, hoping to prove to myself that I was stronger than my stupid eyeballs. The second a tear would roll down my cheek, I would erupt with rage, pull out my little notebook and scribble across my running count. I never made it past three days. I felt like a failure.

I only recently realized that the ability to feel deeply and react honestly is a super power. Giving myself permission to feel however I want, whenever I want, is the best thing I've ever done.  The part of me that cries inconsolably when my heart is broken is the same part of me that writes pop music and draws weird pictures and laughs too hard at the sunday night improv show. That part of me isn't wrong or pathetic or weak. It's my life and I can cry if I freaking want to. 

“Being tender and open is beautiful. As a woman, I feel continually shhh’ed. Too sensitive. Too mushy. Too wishy washy. Blah blah. Don’t let someone steal your tenderness. Don’t allow the coldness and fear of others to tarnish your perfectly vulnerable beating heart. Nothing is more powerful than allowing yourself to truly be affected by things.” -Zooey Deschanel