BEVERLEY TURNER

CRYING

It’s better to cry than be angry, because anger hurts others, while tears flow silently through the soul and cleanse the heart.

Rarely are the pages of City Kids blessed with a quote from the Pope, but John Paul II was onto something when he said, “It’s better to cry than be angry, because anger hurts others, while tears flow silently through the soul and cleanse the heart.” Our relationship to the phenomenon of crying changes drastically as we grow up, but have you ever stopped to reflect on whether crying is your friend or your foe?

As a baby we cry because our survival depends upon it. Without the ability to ask for a “lovely drink of milk, warmed to my favourite temperature, please” we must instead, scream the house down, (acting as an effective contraception to any passing strangers).

Mothers are hard-wired to respond to our offspring’s tears. Our evolutionary instincts are so strong that lactating mums even describe an involuntary let-down of milk at the sound of another person’s baby demanding a feed!

So, what happens on the journey from vocal screaming infant to stoic adult swallowing down tears in public so that we aren’t written off as a ‘wimp’ (men) or ‘hysterical’ (women)?

We learn that crying is childlike, weak even. Thankfully the phrase, “Big boys / girls don’t cry” has been somewhat discredited recently as we gain better understanding of mental health and acknowledge that hiding sadness has contributed to the shocking statistic that suicide remains the biggest killer of males under 45.

How we respond to our children’s tears is crucial to their healthy development. Arguably, the last ten years has seen too much guilt heaped on parents who don’t respond immediately to their child’s every whimper – some crying helps a baby’s vocal cords to develop, and we are in danger of creating a generation of mini emperors if we leap to assuage our children’s minute-byminute trivial demands in case someone is watching and judging our ‘poor parenting.’ It might be my Northern roots, but I’m always impressed if I see a mum from the ‘Buck up, you’re fine’ school of parenting.

But responding when we know their tears are genuine and valid is reassuring and provides security for children. Sometimes they need empathy: perhaps they are being left out at school and it makes them cry at bedtime (it’s often bedtime...). Empathy reflects their feelings back, “I can see this is hurtful, but I know you are strong enough to handle it. What could you do?” is very different to sympathy (which we parents often combine with a ‘I’ll fix-it’ message): “Oh sweetheart, this is awful and I will speak to the teacher.” Try it – interestingly, the first response is likely to see them take a deep breath and stop crying sooner as they build some inner self-belief and inevitable resilience.

It’s the same with adults. In a therapy session, the practitioner might be immensely moved and even upset by a patient’s disclosures, but they know never to cross the space and offer a sympathetic hug. It’s unprofessional because it does not allow the person to sit with their sadness, feel it pass over them and breathe through to the other side.

Author C.S. Lewis captured this sentiment beautifully when he said, “Crying is all right in its way while it lasts. But you have to stop sooner or later, and then you still have to decide what to do.”

Of course, one of parenting’s greatest challenges is to ascertain when our kids are crying to get their own way and when they are genuinely upset. It can feel that misreading their tears could cause a huge emotional cost. Similarly, when they’re crying hysterically because they want the latest tech, the cost is quickly on us! It’s a fine line and how we respond to these arch manipulators will depend on our emotional fortitude that day (including hormones); our own reserves of patience or whether we can actually remember if we did indeed promise them an iPad for Christmas and have now forgotten as we watch them wail on the floor of John Lewis.

But Pope John Paul II was right – crying is always preferable to anger. I believe that we mothers, in particular, all too often rage against the world instead of crumpling into a snotty ball on the living room carpet as we surrender to the overwhelming nature of it all. From time to time we might all benefit from a good old sob, a deep breath and an acknowledgement of our genuine, crappy feelings.

I recently asked my own 12-year-old daughter if she could sum up why she might cry. She shrugged, “So I can get my own way,” suggesting that I haven’t quite nailed the bit about identifying when kids are using tears to manipulate. But tears water our growth, even when you’re a 12-year-old working out what you can get away with. And when we cry in front of other adults, we show that we are hurt, sad and vulnerable so that the people around us can help – and we should all say Amen to that.

BEVERLEY TURNER

Life

JO PRATT p.24 HOME p.28