Emotionally moved: 7/1 Echoes

 Write about a time you felt emotionally moved.

Laugh, Think, Cry 

This prompt is really hard for me and I procrastinated a bit so I’m writing this on Wednesday morning. The truth of the matter is I have a hard time feeling emotionally moved on any given day. 

Laugh – I do this a lot, but it seems to be a replacement action for all of the feelings that I feel lately. Somewhere in my life I got the message that people like laughing better than crying so I laugh at anything. It’s not a good look. 

Think – I do this a lot too, mostly to my detriment. Most people’s thinking is my overthinking. Therapy is helping with this. 

Cry – I don’t do this. I haven’t in a long time. I can’t figure out why. I do feel envy at those who do cry regularly. Have I just become so numb to things that I shove the cry emotion down so frequently that it’s become a habit, replaced with laughter instead? I think this is a little of what is happening. I don’t fault others for crying, I want the release. In all of life’s chaos, I forgot how to cry. It’s not a good look either. 

I don’t want to say it’s as simple as, well, I was asked to shape up or ship out as a child, was told one too many times in my teenage years not to cry and it stuck, though it may be that simple. As the dutiful oldest daughter, I couldn’t cause any more trouble for my parents than my brother was causing and I had to be silent to be good and crying was seen as a call for attention and we shouldn’t by any means draw attention to ourselves. 

In my relationship in early sobriety C couldn’t deal with my emotions so I hid them from him and just got really good at masking everything from everyone. It hasn’t come back yet. 

I remember feeling really moved yesterday, when my former coworker invited me to her pool to see a former student's family all grown up. These girls from Guatemala were 7 and 8 when I left my previous school. It was the height of the pandemic and they spoke next to no English. They always had a smile tucked on their faces beneath a mask. Today they sit at a newly 13 and 15 and fully in their teenage years and in the throes of middle school. Cellphones and social media await, but they did none of that in our presence. Instead they talked to us and helped translate for mom. I’m sure they are bullied or treated poorly for being quiet and compliant. I’m sure they still rely on each other to get through the day. Both of them helped mom dutifully with their 5 year old sister and infant brother. Both of them watched over their 5 year old sister as a new swimmer in the pool. Making sure she stayed in vision of them both. Second and third mom. Both of them reveled in the freedom mom gave them to swim and play yesterday. They wouldn’t have had that had my coworker not invited them to the pool that day. 

I learned later that this family of six was in a horrible accident leaving the kids to go through multiple surgeries to fix teeth and jaws that were destroyed on impact. They have one car. They missed months of school. I didn’t ask about income lost for not being allowed to work, because I know either parent’s employment situation is day to day construction contract work that may not have been able to be performed post accident. None of the children complained about any of it yesterday. They were happy to swim and play and eat a meal provided to them and talk with the boring adults that were present. I was certainly moved to tears, but I couldn’t say or show any of that. The mom told me through broken English that because of their missed school this year, both girls are repeating grades 6 and 7 next year, and they aren’t getting along with their older white male English teacher with high expectations. My heart broke for them. They are the statistics we talk about as future high school drop outs. They deserved none of this. 

I felt emotionally moved and still do. I took their business card and promised to call when my yard needs a fence fixed or my house needs cleaning; I know they are too proud to accept a handout. I know nothing I say wouldn’t be enough, so instead I chose time. Time spent with them, in connection. I would like to think that helped. It probably did temporarily raise spirits, but left me feeling like I have nothing to complain about. 

I don’t know why I’m telling this story, the task was to write about a time I felt emotionally moved and I guess that this is the one this summer that comes to mind because I’ve numbed myself to everything else in my life. I’ll continue working on that, if I knew how.