I started my childhood in the late fifties and ended in the late seventies, some would say I’m still in mine. My Dad started his childhood in 1930 the beginning of the depression and then lost his Dad to a hunting accident in 1943. He went to school, worked to help with family expenses, played when he could and then started a family of his own in 1949. We definitely lived different childhoods being twenty-eight years apart and growing up at different times going through different things.
Growing up the fourth child of seven I really wanted my Dad’s attention and feedback about things I was doing like sports, drawing, and playing my guitar. I got feedback okay. Education was important. you need to get better grades, children should be seen and not heard (Why not?I might have a great idea!), listen to your parents they know best (Really it was the best for who? Not me, I just want to travel explore). Yes, I was a bit of a smart ass.
My dad and I did do things together, don’t get me wrong, but I felt I was always coming up short on getting his approval. Maybe he just didn’t know how to express them? That’s an interesting thought. Why are we chasing someone’s approval and why can’t your approval be enough?
Back in the sixties I heard boys don’t cry and whether I heard that from my Dad first or not, he is the one that is getting saddled with that thought. You fall down and scrape your knee, trip and fall in the rose bush, and you hear "Hush, boys don’t cry. Do you want to be a big boy?" Yes! But hey, this also fucking hurts. Yes, I did cry over things a lot of the time by myself in my room where no one could see me, because it somehow wasn’t appropriate I guess. Somehow the whole world might crumble if boys cried.
I wonder how many times I stuffed my feelings in the trash to hold back the tears that were showing up. Not till now that I sit in front of God and everyone, do I think to wonder what my Pops feelings were. I don’t remember seeing my Dad ever cry. Even at my mom’s funeral he kept it all together for the sake of the family. I have to wonder if that’s why he took up smoking again after he had quit a year and a half before when we found out that Mom had cancer.
He had seven children, three out of the house, three still under his roof growing up, and myself with one foot in the house and one foot trying to get out. He had to keep working to feed the family. When then did he have time to cry, maybe in his room alone at night? I'm just guessing. What would of been the problem with crying for God’s sake! These things that get passed on from generation to generation are crazy to me arrggg!
I cry in front of my younger brother. He is a safe space and always has things together, or I believe he does. Does he? What’s wrong with feeling your feelings? I’m sure I am right about this; that crying is there for a reason so that we may be able to release. To feel the loss, to feel the hurt, the happiness, and the ecstasy.
I cried at my daughter’s wedding, when I dropped one daughter off to college, and when my sister died, I couldn’t stop. I say everyone should do it. If you feel close to cyring and you are driving, they have pull outs on the shoulder of the road to use it to cry on. Get it out before you suppress it with with drugs, alcohol, meaningless sex, a job you hate, or a relationship who's ship has sailed years ago.
Big Boys Don’t Cry Is Bull Shit!!! Boys should cry, girls should cry, we should all be able to cry to show our emotions without being judged by others or ourselves. Anyone who judges you probably needs to have a good cry themselves! Talk about therapy for your soul, for yourself. Yes, get up every day and pull on your pants but feel free to cry along your journey people. Know that it is ok, not even ok, it’s beautiful. God didn’t give you tear ducts just to add another hole in your head. Use them.
I’m waking up more every day since I yelled out into the Universe for some help as to where is all the love in the world. Kyle Cease who wrote the foreword and the afterword for this amazing book showed up in my life, through his talks, and his coaching. I have grown so much because of this. Let's hear it for mentors in your life! If you don’t have one, go get one! They are amazing people, hell you can get one for every part of your life if you want!
Be grateful for them, because they have done the work and continue to do the work. They are gifted people for sure. Your coach or mentor will rock your world and yes, you will cry! You will drag your feet, you will resist, but press on. Hey, if you want something you are going to have to release all the wants. needs, have to’s and should of’s in your life, and start to just be. That includes crying, wiping your nose on your sleeve, getting messy, and playing in the dirt. Get real honest about what you want to do.
Anything worth working for you have to put in some time and energy into it. If you want to reframe that and call it play by all means do so. I prefer to use the word play. I love to be out of doors under the giant sequoia trees, on the side of a mountain, hiking down a trail. I love the peace and serenity that it brings me and the wonder I feel as a forest opens up to a beautiful waterfall, with the water cascading down the rock into a pool. I stop, take off my boots, and cool my feet. Now that’s the kind of work I want to do.
I got the opportunity to do a podcast with Kyle in LA the other day. I was apprehensive, anxious as shit, with so much stuff coming up. Bingo! What came up? Yes, this was me still chasing the approval of dear ole Dad. Shit, when does this end, or does it? I'm holding back tears where there is a room to go to because I’m in front of a bunch of people. My body contorts and the release comes. Tears, tears, and more tears. What the hell? My Dad has been gone for two years now but I’m still chasing his approval.
The work is still there. I’m finding out that he is free of all his judgements, all his old crap, and all of his shit he carried around in his earthly body. I miss my Dad so much and love him even more. There is so much compassion for him in my heart.
Since we’ve reconnected in this different space and time, we went running, which he was never able to do with me when he was here on earth because of bad knees. We’ve gotten to go camp together, hike, meditate, drive the highways of California together, touch the giant sequoias, share ideas, thoughts with him and his dad too has come along. We are a great group the three of us. Tears, oh the tears come, oh so much more tears that use to suppress now spurn me on to be more creative more inspiring. This allows me to be oh so much more.
More writing is on the table for me to pour out my ideas and feelings from my heart for all to read about and see. No more playing small and no more hiding from myself. I’m going to bathe myself in this amazing life we get to live every day. The trails to hike, the oceans to sail, the skies to fly in, and the poetry and plays to be written. There are so many people to talk to, to coach, and to encourage. Ask for what the Universe wants you to see, then sit and be still. The gifts are on there way to you and if they arrive on a stream, or a river of tears, let them come I say.