Thoughtful piece, Ilona. My mother never cried. She numbed her pain with alcohol and drugs. I, on the other hand, cry at the drop of a hat. Going through my divorce, I can't count the number of times I drove over the hill to the ocean crying all the way. I would continue to cry as I walked the shoreline until the tears finally dissipated. The ride home would always be reflective and calm. The shower is another place I feel comfortable crying. Thanks for shining a light on the importance of our tears. 💕
I'm glad those days of crying on the way to work and back are over for me, and also for you. Congratulations on making it through 100% of your worst days.
"When I divorced the preacher, an invisible Scarlet Letter A was affixed to my chest by the church ladies—supposed friends. That was when my daughters saw me crying over the kitchen sink, more than once. Perhaps the hardest part of that time wasn’t just the pain I carried, but the fact that they had to witness it.
I remember only once seeing my own mother cry at the sink. Instinctively, I knew to slip away, to give her space. My daughters did the same for me. It’s something unspoken, isn’t it? The way grief lingers in the quiet places, passed down like an inheritance none of us asked for.
I wanted to make the world better for my kids, but instead, I made it so much messier for them. Unfortunately, we pass down our dysfunction generationally until someone is brave enough to stop the cycle. Thank you for your wisdom, Monica.
A sad story, Ilona. I'm not a shrink and have neither advice nor answers. My mother was diagnosed with MS right after I was born.
Her tears were of frustration that she couldn't live the life she imagined. My father and I cared for her as best we could. She died just before my 11th birthday. I regret I didn't know her better.
It is such a tragedy for all in your family, especially you, Frederick, as a young boy. I hope her memory is a blessing to you, even though she was only with you for a short period of your life.
So poignant, Ilona. My own mother never showed emotion. When I picture her at her lowest emotional moments, she is passed out in a chair, her hand still around her glass of Vodka. But I did cry, and during one part of my life, as an abusive marriage was coming apart at the seams (thank God!), I would get in my car and get onto the freeway. I'd stay in the right hand lane and look slightly to the right so no one would look at my face and see the tears and rage. I would scream at the top of my lungs and cry huge tears until I was all cried out. I would let the four "walls" of the car become a vehicle for my pain (pun not intended). Then I would get off an off ramp and back onto the onramp and drive back to a home I hated, and wait for the exact moment of escape to present itself.
A car is private but also visible to anyone who really looks, similar to a kitchen sink. Crying does help process things. Hormones are released after crying, which may be why it can be necessary and cathartic. I often say I am all cried out at this point in my life, but then again, you never know.
I cried in shower and in toilets. This story of yours touched a raw nerve, Ilona. Like your mother and that Dr C, I don’t think anyone would have understood my pain. Neither did I wanted to explain it to anyone what I was going through. I just needed it to melt out in the form of tears and so that I can get on with my duties. It is very hard to share your pain in your thirties or forties. It comes out like a volcano erupting in fifties. Then in sixties you laugh at it. And you tell stories about it to anyone who listens. I don’t think it’s just limited to migrant women, it is true for all women. We go through a lot of shit in our lives. You write beautifully. Soul-touchingly.
Yes, I agree it's not limited to migrant women. As a young person, I was looking for commonalities as to why this happened, and it was anecdotal that I saw it in these two women. I do think both suffered from mental health issues, too, but the crying experience appears to be universal and human.
So much truth in your words, which tugged at my heart. Many women of our generation have learned to be independent not just because we wanted it but as a means of survival. We all have stories that align with yours and somehow most women I know seem to fare better because we value connections, especially with those who get us. I have met some amazing women throughout my life especially once I turned 50. I may not see them a great deal, but we do keep in touch and take off from wherever we left things the last time. It's a special bond.
As we age, I think our female connections are even more critical. It does take a village to support not only children, but all of us in community for each other.
What a powerful and poignant essay, Ilona. I grew up with parents who were first-generation Italian Americans. There were a lot of loud voices, a lot of tears, and a lot of love. I felt that I was my mom's confidant, which is a slippery slope for a child and a mother/daughter relationship. Under the right circumstances, crying can be such a healing release.
There are so many different types of tears, aren't there? There are so many different wells of joy and sorrow from which crying comes, and it is fascinating to consider our own wellsprings.
Beautifully told. Crying in the car or the shower has been my method after the passing of loved ones because everyone gets too dramatic. Mothers need friends who care enough to just be there. Men have even worse issues —I guess they go running or driving!
"Everyone gets too dramatic" is a great line. Yes, the more people who care, the better. I was thinking about the men while I was writing this. They need permission to cry more often no matter where they do it.
Ilona, your description of your mother and then the landlady weeping and wailing into the sink is so vivid and so heartbreaking. I am so sorry you had to be your mother's caretaker, and that she yelled at you to get out when you tried to comfort her. And then turned on you when you divorced your husband. I am so glad you celebrate friends, particularly women friends, in this essay.
Thanks, Kirie. I appreciate your compassion for the strained relationship I had with my mother. As for relationships with other women, they can be so healing and nurturing. I don't think I had this appreciation until later in life.
Ilona Goanos: I have been in and out (now in) psychological, sometimes psychiatric, counseling for OCD.
OCD looks innocent enough on the outside but can wreak havoc with morbid obsessions that tyrannize the mind into compulsions.
At 77, mine have been well controlled for more than 35 years, thanks to care.
Growing up, my experience -- as an innocent adolescent hopelessly jumbled with crushes on young women I thought, though, were totally UNAPPROACHABLE -- for they were beautiful, suave, intelligent, socially smooth, whereas Armando was always awkward and clueless.
Only to find out as an adult that something like one in three (or worse!!) women have suffered sexual abuse or other forms of battery.
With an astonished adult Armando asking, WHERE did THAT come from.
After 53 years with a beautiful, witty, gifted, smart woman -- Nancy (married 51-years), I have all the gifts I associate with her, and she gets clumsiness and cluelessness.
But most marriages are worse than that.
I often think that attractions between women work out better.
I do not know. But it seems so.
Meanwhile, YOU are an inspiration ALWAYS.
By the way, I still have your video short ringing: "Take . . . out . . . the . . .!" Very commanding! LOL!
HA ha ha! My singing teacher liked it too, so we did this exercise again yesterday. I get more places with my voice when I pretend to be someone else, like a militant trash captain. A weird revelation for me.
I do think relationships with women feel safer, at least for me. Men's intentions aren't always pure, but that may just be the nature of the beast.
Thank you for sharing about your OCD. The more we own our mental health, the less stigma and the more compassion to spread around.
The acting is top flight, with Connina Harfouch (as Susanne Bonard, Criminology Professor returning to the force) and Mark Waschke (as Robert Karow).
I would compare the quality to any of the best of BBC.
The themes deal a lot with Federal and Provincial police, race, immigrants, and political intrigue.
Susanne Bonard and Robert Karow have pure intentions in investigating crime of provincial and national importance (one show dealt with the assassination of a member of Parliament).
Real in-depth writing with superb acting and posing real legal and moral issues.
Ilona Goanos: If you click, ARD (Erstes Programm) greets you with a blue background and all about "Tatort aus Berline -- Bonard und Karow" with "Folgen" (Episodes) from Staffel 1 (Season 1).
This is a profoundly moving post. Not only have I been disowned by my father and my brother, but I was also the source of comfort for my mother while she cried.
I have not only broken down and cried on the kitchen floor while alone, but have run outside to the backyard many times to just let it all out.
I’m so proud of you for being so brave and showing yourself.
Showing myself is getting easier. Thank you for seeing me 🤍. I think there is value in letting your children see you cry, but not for the heavy stuff that is too much for their tender hearts.
I'm sorry you were disowned. I know how much that hurts. Sending love and a hug your way.
Thanks for writing this. I had my teary eyed years- IDK why I didn’t follow through on the therapy or confide in a friend. Today I do, and it makes such a difference.
Very tough. The people we love showing themselves no compassion with no one there to speak with before of shame of not being okay. Yes, i'm actually a non crier. My kids are absolutely floored when I cry and I insist it's not their fault and how kind they are for wanting to help. Not theirs and I'll be okay.
Crying around kids is awkward. My daughter has two young children, and if she cries they come running to help, like she does for them. They so want to make the invisible pain go away. It is so precious to receive the love of our kids.
Thoughtful piece, Ilona. My mother never cried. She numbed her pain with alcohol and drugs. I, on the other hand, cry at the drop of a hat. Going through my divorce, I can't count the number of times I drove over the hill to the ocean crying all the way. I would continue to cry as I walked the shoreline until the tears finally dissipated. The ride home would always be reflective and calm. The shower is another place I feel comfortable crying. Thanks for shining a light on the importance of our tears. 💕
I'm glad those days of crying on the way to work and back are over for me, and also for you. Congratulations on making it through 100% of your worst days.
"When I divorced the preacher, an invisible Scarlet Letter A was affixed to my chest by the church ladies—supposed friends. That was when my daughters saw me crying over the kitchen sink, more than once. Perhaps the hardest part of that time wasn’t just the pain I carried, but the fact that they had to witness it.
I remember only once seeing my own mother cry at the sink. Instinctively, I knew to slip away, to give her space. My daughters did the same for me. It’s something unspoken, isn’t it? The way grief lingers in the quiet places, passed down like an inheritance none of us asked for.
I wanted to make the world better for my kids, but instead, I made it so much messier for them. Unfortunately, we pass down our dysfunction generationally until someone is brave enough to stop the cycle. Thank you for your wisdom, Monica.
A sad story, Ilona. I'm not a shrink and have neither advice nor answers. My mother was diagnosed with MS right after I was born.
Her tears were of frustration that she couldn't live the life she imagined. My father and I cared for her as best we could. She died just before my 11th birthday. I regret I didn't know her better.
It is such a tragedy for all in your family, especially you, Frederick, as a young boy. I hope her memory is a blessing to you, even though she was only with you for a short period of your life.
I am so sorry your mother died when you were still just a child, and was ill before that.
So poignant, Ilona. My own mother never showed emotion. When I picture her at her lowest emotional moments, she is passed out in a chair, her hand still around her glass of Vodka. But I did cry, and during one part of my life, as an abusive marriage was coming apart at the seams (thank God!), I would get in my car and get onto the freeway. I'd stay in the right hand lane and look slightly to the right so no one would look at my face and see the tears and rage. I would scream at the top of my lungs and cry huge tears until I was all cried out. I would let the four "walls" of the car become a vehicle for my pain (pun not intended). Then I would get off an off ramp and back onto the onramp and drive back to a home I hated, and wait for the exact moment of escape to present itself.
A car is private but also visible to anyone who really looks, similar to a kitchen sink. Crying does help process things. Hormones are released after crying, which may be why it can be necessary and cathartic. I often say I am all cried out at this point in my life, but then again, you never know.
It has been a long time since I've had a "good" cry. I feel like that too...all cried out. But like you, we never know.
I cried in shower and in toilets. This story of yours touched a raw nerve, Ilona. Like your mother and that Dr C, I don’t think anyone would have understood my pain. Neither did I wanted to explain it to anyone what I was going through. I just needed it to melt out in the form of tears and so that I can get on with my duties. It is very hard to share your pain in your thirties or forties. It comes out like a volcano erupting in fifties. Then in sixties you laugh at it. And you tell stories about it to anyone who listens. I don’t think it’s just limited to migrant women, it is true for all women. We go through a lot of shit in our lives. You write beautifully. Soul-touchingly.
Yes, I agree it's not limited to migrant women. As a young person, I was looking for commonalities as to why this happened, and it was anecdotal that I saw it in these two women. I do think both suffered from mental health issues, too, but the crying experience appears to be universal and human.
So much truth in your words, which tugged at my heart. Many women of our generation have learned to be independent not just because we wanted it but as a means of survival. We all have stories that align with yours and somehow most women I know seem to fare better because we value connections, especially with those who get us. I have met some amazing women throughout my life especially once I turned 50. I may not see them a great deal, but we do keep in touch and take off from wherever we left things the last time. It's a special bond.
As we age, I think our female connections are even more critical. It does take a village to support not only children, but all of us in community for each other.
What a powerful and poignant essay, Ilona. I grew up with parents who were first-generation Italian Americans. There were a lot of loud voices, a lot of tears, and a lot of love. I felt that I was my mom's confidant, which is a slippery slope for a child and a mother/daughter relationship. Under the right circumstances, crying can be such a healing release.
Yes, I agree that crying has healing properties, while endlessly feeling sad isn't healing. The Italians are well known for their emoting LOL.
Yes! They sure are.
There are so many different types of tears, aren't there? There are so many different wells of joy and sorrow from which crying comes, and it is fascinating to consider our own wellsprings.
This was a beautiful, poignant piece, Ilona. Thank you for sharing.
You are welcome 💙
Beautifully told. Crying in the car or the shower has been my method after the passing of loved ones because everyone gets too dramatic. Mothers need friends who care enough to just be there. Men have even worse issues —I guess they go running or driving!
"Everyone gets too dramatic" is a great line. Yes, the more people who care, the better. I was thinking about the men while I was writing this. They need permission to cry more often no matter where they do it.
I suspect Llona that lots of us are crying unseen in America right now.
Every day non-stop.
Ilona, your description of your mother and then the landlady weeping and wailing into the sink is so vivid and so heartbreaking. I am so sorry you had to be your mother's caretaker, and that she yelled at you to get out when you tried to comfort her. And then turned on you when you divorced your husband. I am so glad you celebrate friends, particularly women friends, in this essay.
Thanks, Kirie. I appreciate your compassion for the strained relationship I had with my mother. As for relationships with other women, they can be so healing and nurturing. I don't think I had this appreciation until later in life.
Ilona Goanos: I have been in and out (now in) psychological, sometimes psychiatric, counseling for OCD.
OCD looks innocent enough on the outside but can wreak havoc with morbid obsessions that tyrannize the mind into compulsions.
At 77, mine have been well controlled for more than 35 years, thanks to care.
Growing up, my experience -- as an innocent adolescent hopelessly jumbled with crushes on young women I thought, though, were totally UNAPPROACHABLE -- for they were beautiful, suave, intelligent, socially smooth, whereas Armando was always awkward and clueless.
Only to find out as an adult that something like one in three (or worse!!) women have suffered sexual abuse or other forms of battery.
With an astonished adult Armando asking, WHERE did THAT come from.
After 53 years with a beautiful, witty, gifted, smart woman -- Nancy (married 51-years), I have all the gifts I associate with her, and she gets clumsiness and cluelessness.
But most marriages are worse than that.
I often think that attractions between women work out better.
I do not know. But it seems so.
Meanwhile, YOU are an inspiration ALWAYS.
By the way, I still have your video short ringing: "Take . . . out . . . the . . .!" Very commanding! LOL!
HA ha ha! My singing teacher liked it too, so we did this exercise again yesterday. I get more places with my voice when I pretend to be someone else, like a militant trash captain. A weird revelation for me.
I do think relationships with women feel safer, at least for me. Men's intentions aren't always pure, but that may just be the nature of the beast.
Thank you for sharing about your OCD. The more we own our mental health, the less stigma and the more compassion to spread around.
Ilona Goanos: If you are interested in pure intentions, here is a great "Krimi" Series on the popular "Tatort" (Crime Scene) on ARD:
"Tatort aus Berlin -- Bonard und Karow"
https://www.ardmediathek.de/sammlung/bonard-und-karow/33yLQYgN56l2fjDUDF9Wll
The acting is top flight, with Connina Harfouch (as Susanne Bonard, Criminology Professor returning to the force) and Mark Waschke (as Robert Karow).
I would compare the quality to any of the best of BBC.
The themes deal a lot with Federal and Provincial police, race, immigrants, and political intrigue.
Susanne Bonard and Robert Karow have pure intentions in investigating crime of provincial and national importance (one show dealt with the assassination of a member of Parliament).
Real in-depth writing with superb acting and posing real legal and moral issues.
Is this on a streaming service or do I just use the link you sent me? This series sounds right up my alley.
Ilona Goanos: If you click, ARD (Erstes Programm) greets you with a blue background and all about "Tatort aus Berline -- Bonard und Karow" with "Folgen" (Episodes) from Staffel 1 (Season 1).
https://www.ardmediathek.de/sammlung/bonard-und-karow/33yLQYgN56l2fjDUDF9Wll
This is a profoundly moving post. Not only have I been disowned by my father and my brother, but I was also the source of comfort for my mother while she cried.
I have not only broken down and cried on the kitchen floor while alone, but have run outside to the backyard many times to just let it all out.
I’m so proud of you for being so brave and showing yourself.
Showing myself is getting easier. Thank you for seeing me 🤍. I think there is value in letting your children see you cry, but not for the heavy stuff that is too much for their tender hearts.
I'm sorry you were disowned. I know how much that hurts. Sending love and a hug your way.
🤗🤗🤗
Thanks for writing this. I had my teary eyed years- IDK why I didn’t follow through on the therapy or confide in a friend. Today I do, and it makes such a difference.
I agree that support does make a difference in how we handle things. To be seen and understood is huge! As women, we carry so much as it is.
Very tough. The people we love showing themselves no compassion with no one there to speak with before of shame of not being okay. Yes, i'm actually a non crier. My kids are absolutely floored when I cry and I insist it's not their fault and how kind they are for wanting to help. Not theirs and I'll be okay.
So much respect,
Shalagh
Crying around kids is awkward. My daughter has two young children, and if she cries they come running to help, like she does for them. They so want to make the invisible pain go away. It is so precious to receive the love of our kids.
Gosh yes and probably because my mother didn’t think of me, I’d shield them but never shun them. I am grateful to have raised compassionate people.
It is such a beautiful thing you did, raising compassionate people. The rest of us thank you 🤍