You Can Cry If You Want To

Updated: Dec 17, 2020

Seasons Greetings, even if you aren't feeling it.

Image courtesy of adobestock.com

This November, I started falling into my grumpy state—it’s hard to tell why— but I always do at this time of year, and not many people know this. How long have I been such a grouch? I don’t know but whatever. It’s grumpy-time.


But because I’m a grownup, I refrain from saying the words that sit inside my mouth. I don’t roll my eyes at the happy music or let anyone know how I truly feel about Christmas cards. I dutifully put up the lights. And we play the music that must be played when you’re Christmassing your house.


Usually, I feel this way, then I feel bad about it, and then I fight it. Like it’s wrong, like I’m a terrible person for being in this mood. Or I wrestle with it, try to understand it — so I can feel something better, something more seasonally appropriate.


Today was different.


Today, I just felt tenderness. For me and for anyone and everyone feeling a little less than wonderful right now. I didn’t question the origin of this emotion, and I didn’t judge it as being right or wrong. I just noticed its color and shape within me. I noticed how it furrows my frown lines and stoops my shoulders a bit. And I noticed the dulling of my senses in general.


And I put my arms around it all, and whispered, “I get it.”


Holly Cole came out with a song called Cry If You Want To in 1993 (on her Don’t Smoke in Bed CD). In it, she says, “Cry if you want to I won't tell you not to / I won't try and cheer you up / I’ll just be here if you want me / to be / near you." And that pretty much sums up what my inner best friend said to me today.


I’ll just be here if you want me to be near you.


The relaxation that sets in once I put down my weapons against however it is I am feeling in the moment — it is phenomenal. It is a beautiful thing.


Now I feel more intimate with life, with my loved ones, because I’m not fighting what is. And because I’m not fighting it so hard, it’s not fighting me either. We’re holding hands in the forest, moving through the dark together. Sharing the load.


To say that I feel better would not really be accurate. I still feel the way I feel. But with that, there’s also a gentle smile on my face, and an open door to my heart, and a deep gratitude that has quieted me into this sense of peace.


I am sending you that same peace. That tender loving friend within you who will hold your hand in the forest, and who knows and loves you best. May you feel it all through this season and the next and the rest of your life.


Many blessings. May all beings benefit.