Earlier this year, I learned that a way you can reduce stress and anxiety is to do the “double-inhale-exhale” technique, the so-called “stutter breath.” It seems a bit counter-intuitive because this type of breathing is also recognized as “hyper-ventilation,” in other words, the state of having a panic attack, struggling to get enough oxygen. The willed shutter breath, however, is something you do of your own accord and in a controlled manner. “A physiological sigh, two or three times, is the fastest way that we are aware of to bring the level of autonomic arousal back down to baseline,” says neuroscientist Andrew Huberman in an interview with Scientific American.
Try it. Try to feel how it feels.
For me, this technique has been a gateway into the real thing: Weeping, crying, sobbing, tearing up, you name it. I’ve been crying lately, and it has been great.
It’s strange to rediscover crying at the age of 36. And it’s strange to realize how the gendered cultural expectations of crying have been in play.1 I don’t mind people around me crying. On the few occasions when men have done it around me, I truly admire it as a sign of confidence. Because I’m aware of the cultural norms around crying, especially for men, and how they are transgressing those. I’ve considered it brave.2
But I’ve applied the idea that men shouldn't show weakness by crying to myself. Because to me, weeping makes me feel vulnerable and shameful. So much that I have even held it back from my partner. I suspect a lot of us have this double standard: We can afford other people the liberty that we can’t afford ourselves.
But that’s really unfair. It’s unfair to yourself and it’s unfair to those around you. By bottling up your emotions, you not only risking your health3, but you’re also not showing those around you the trust that they might deserve. You’re not letting them have the opportunity to comfort you and help you out. To enable you to talk through and cope with whatever emotion you’re having, and the cause of it. Assuming you’re in safe relationships, which might not always be the case.
I don’t want to be seen as “brave” as being a person that’s crying. I want to be seen as a person that has a healthy and mature relationship with my own emotions. And someone who wants to normalize it. Women should be able to cry without being deemed as “emotional” and “unstable,” because the opposite is true. It’s through crying and letting those emotions go, you’ll get back to a calm and rational state. By holding it back, you will lose the connection and affinity with your feelings, and you will likely react with aggression, self-pity, and anger. Crying is probably the most responsible and grown-up thing you can do.
Starting to cry has let me start connecting with what I truly appreciate and find important. It has unlocked memories and it has moved shame to regret. It has allowed me to appreciate the memories of my late best friend, instead of just avoiding thinking of him altogether. It has been an essential part of starting to care for myself and to really connect with how I feel about things. And the relief that comes after crying is liberating.
p.s. I believe the first time I had a healthy cry this year, was upon reading The Song of Achilles on the recommendation of my partner. It’s beautifully written, and a great place to begin if you don’t know where to start.
Historically, it can seem that the idea that men shouldn’t cry came with… drum-roll… the industrialization. Prior, it would seem that crying was considered a sign of strength and as having a soul.
To be honest, I don’t believe have given the same credit to crying people who don’t identify as male. But I think I’m getting to a place where I generally appreciate when people, whomever they are, display that they’re in touch with their emotions in a healthy way.
There are studies that suggest that bottling up emotions will increase your chance for premature death and even cancer. Of course, it’s ongoing research, but I think it’s fair to assume that it’s not healthy for you.