Richard Rayner, MD
I like to think about stuff. What people do, what drives them to do it, etc. I like to think about how things affect the individual, those in close contact with her, and for the community and culture at large. I also like to observe the behavior of people and how it flows from what is believed and thought. As I observe how people process things, it seems to me that those who really live life fully have the freedom to be honest with themselves, and open with others. I submit, that to get to an emotionally healthy place, one needs to be free to laugh and cry at some point of most days.
Laughter and tears are not two sides of the same coin, but rather two coins each with 2 sides jingling around in the same change purse of life.
All laughter is not created equal, however. There is a laugh that is sardonic, ironic even it. Its source is a painful realization of something that was previously hidden. It’s a laugh laced with bitterness and weightiness. The jokester elevates herself above the object of the jest. When its echo is over, no smile remains, but rather an emotional pause that settles in heavily. This “humor” does not refresh. Sadly I think that is mostly the kind of humor we see portrayed in television shows today.
In contrast, a joyful laugh is one born from a heart that recognizes the goodness it sees and feels. It’s a laugh filled with celebration and joy. It’s an expression of a realization also, but in this case the recognition of goodness and light, fun and release. It affirms fullness and gratefulness for the experience. It too can poke fun, but rather than elevate the one making the joke, it links arms with the object, saying, “Yeah, I’m goofy too.” I was blessed to be raised in a family where this type of humor reigned. My sides hurt just thinking about it.
Tears too can be bitter or sweet. However, both are born out of emotion that says, “I feel it,” whatever “it” is.
The bitter tears come from a place where what is, is recognized to be the wrong thing. These tears confirm that something has been lost: a dreamed not realized, a beautiful thing twisted, a potential not met, a hurt inflicted. Both the giver and the receiver shed these tears. These tears, though often silent, shout, “No!” They profess incredulity, anger, sadness. Should they be allowed to water seeds of bitterness, these tears can sprout trees of further destruction, and strong must be the axe that breaks through the roots of those trees.
Tears of joy are a “yes” born out of “no” situation. This may be a struggle that has found its reward: a longing satisfied, a hurt resolved, a talent recognized. Perhaps there’s been a dormant valuable longing that finally gets air to breathe. These tears want no revenge. They are an expression of thanks, a sign of relief, a celebration, as if a hopeful emotional breath that was being held in inspiration can now exhale with relief of that restriction.
The enemies of this emotional health are many. Apathy, fear, and self-protection are some of the most common foes.
Apathy – emotional numbness – may be temporarily helpful as a buffer from a difficult situation, but as a prolonged posture it is never good. It says “I won’t feel,” or “I can’t feel,” or “never again will I open my heart.” Certain personalities seem to lend themselves to this. Unphased by the events of life, they roll along seemingly not bothered by the upheaval presented to them. “Whatever” – possibly the most damaging word in our English vocabulary in this context – is the uniform response to any situation. It’s the ultimate dismissive comment, and guaranteed conversation stopper.
Sometimes fear blunts our response. It’s fear of an emotional floodgate opening. We wonder if giving in to one emotion may unleash a host of emotional hounds that will be impossible to rein back in. I’ve seen this often in those who from an early age were the object of ridicule, especially in the area of emotional sensitivity. Convinced that showing emotion will end in ridicule they construct barriers that guard against the nasty intrusion of deep feelings.
Self-protection reveals the fear of exposure. Physical walls are effective in keeping undesirable things out, and hopefully equally effective in keeping the desirable things, the things one wants to flourish, in. Emotional walls are “effective” but often too much so. If completely unbreachable, the result may be that everything and everyone is kept out of one’s heart, and normal emotions will not grow well. Nothing ventured, nothing gained, right? At risk of sounding corny, “It’s the heart afraid of breaking that never learns to dance.”
So let the laughter and the tears flow. Let the tears speak their message, reserve the sarcastic scoff for special occasions, embrace your inner Tim Conway, and be free!
