“I wish I could add a layer of skin to you Xen, you’re so sensitive”
“Men don’t cry Xen, remember that.”
“Tu necesitas tener fuerza Xen, eres un Hombre/You need be strong Xen, you’re a man.”
These sentences are what I grew up hearing. I was a sensitive child. The smallest insults would get to me, I’d break down, and tears would start forming. Each time I would, there was always someone around to tell me off, to let me know what I was doing was wrong.
By the age of 10, I had learned to lock away my feelings, only letting people see the happy side. Never let them see what I was truly feeling. I would stow the feelings down, keeping a lid on them.
If they saw anger, they only saw the smallest hints of it.
If they saw jealousy, it was the bare hint.
But it’s a sadness that they never truly got to see.
I would never let people know when their words made me upset, and I would never show people that something they said affected me. And I never, ever, ever cried.
Even by myself, I would hold the tears in, locking them away, ensuring that I wouldn't cry, always hearing the word
“Real Men Don’t Cry”
There was nothing left inside me, I had no energy to do anything at all.
The weight of the world had been bearing down on my shoulders for so long, like a relentless storm that refused to let up. Day after day, I had endured the trials and tribulations that life had thrown my way, silently carrying the burden of it all. But deep down, the cracks were forming, and I could feel myself teetering on the edge of a precipice.
Until one fateful day, the dam finally burst. Like a powder keg ignited by a single spark, my emotions exploded in a cataclysmic outburst. Tears streamed down my face in torrents, each one carrying the weight of a thousand unspoken words. I shouted and screamed in a desperate attempt to release the pent-up anger and frustration that had been festering inside me for so long.
In a fit of blind rage, I lashed out at my surroundings, destroying my room in a whirlwind of destruction. When the dust settled, I stood in the wreckage, feeling utterly empty and devoid of emotion.
The storm had passed, leaving me in its aftermath. There was nothing left inside me, no energy to even shed a single tear. I had reached the point of complete and utter exhaustion, both physically and emotionally. It was as if I had been drained of all life and vitality, left with nothing but a hollow shell.
In that moment, I realized the true extent of the damage that had been done. The weight I had been carrying for so long had taken its toll, and I had reached my breaking point. It was a sobering realization, one that forced me to confront the need for change.
That day cemented a lesson in me.
It’s okay to feel. It’s okay to feel happy, sad, angry, or anything else that comes up. Your emotions are a part of you, and it’s okay to let them be present.
It’s okay to let people see how you feel. There’s no need to hide your emotions from the people you care about. If they’re true friends, they’ll be there for you when you need them and won’t judge you for how you feel.
And it’s okay to cry. Crying is a natural way to express your emotions, and it can be very healing. If you feel like crying, don’t hold back. Let the tears flow.
Since then, I’ve tried my best to let my feelings be known to those close to me. It wasn’t easy at first, but I knew it was important. So I started slowly, sharing little things with my friends and family. And gradually, I found it easier to open up about my feelings.
To let them out, and let them be, so that I would never feel anything like I felt that day. I needed to let go of the pain and anger that had been eating away at me. So I talked to my friends and family, I wrote in a journal, and I even sought professional help. And slowly, but surely, the pain started to fade.
And it’s working, I’ve felt one hundred times better since then. Opening up about my feelings and letting them be has been one of the best things I’ve ever done for myself. I’m happier and healthier than I’ve ever been, and I’m so grateful that I took that first step.