My husband and I
have been going to family counseling with our adopted son the past few months. Our
son doesn’t like going and talking about anything, especially emotions, so we
decided to go just as a couple last week. I sat there bawling off and on for
the entire session. I told the counselor I believe tears are a waste of time.
They don’t help our situation. They make me feel physically awful, and I feel
no emotional release from them. Tears can’t change someone else’s heart. My
tears don’t seem to motivate him to have compassion. She asked why I felt this
way about tears and crying. Of course she wants me to unpack why I never cry…So
here I go, let’s talk about tears and crying. Sorrow and loss. Grief and hurt. Pain
and healing.
I had a lot of anger inflicted on me in my past. I learned
to meet anger with anger. I am stubborn and headstrong. I have a strong yelling
voice because growing up in a home where people yell I learned to match volume.
Many times, I was able to shield my heart by running away from the anger (I ran to my room, to a friend’s house, to a school or church activity,
to work). I didn’t start dealing with how that anger changed my core beliefs
until I was an adult. I don’t remember crying much as a kid. I do remember
being sad. A lot. As an adult I was able to forgive the people who emotionally
hurt me, but forgiveness doesn’t take away memories and it doesn’t take away
bad coping skills. I still run away from conflict and heated discussions. I
can’t be around angry people. My heart races and I want to run when I am
confronted with anger. Then God gave me my son.
My tears come from remembering. Remembering a past that held
pain. Remembering the fear associated with anger. Remembering loss of
relationships. Remembering the feeling of helplessness. As a young person, when
I first thought of adoption as part of my family plan, I admittedly viewed it
as a way to “rescue” a child from poverty and a life of not knowing a loving family.
Every child should have a mother who rushes to their side when they are hurt, cheers for them to win and guides them in learning. I wanted to give a
child everything I thought he or she was missing. Fast forward through 20 years
of maturity and I am now aware that in the process of adoption there is loss as
well as gain. We took away the only home he knew. We took away playmates, roommates
and a loving nanny. We removed familiar routines. He no longer understands his
native language.
“There is a time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to
mourn and a time to dance.” Loss and pain, grief and hurt shouldn’t be ignored. When sorrow is felt,
healing can begin. No matter how painful it is to cry, tears do serve a
purpose. Our son is finding it very hard to remember and mourn. His actions show that he does
not believe it is okay to be vulnerable and cry. I have to admit I am due my
time to mourn. When my son came home 3 years ago I felt loss. In adoption, I
had to walk away from the life I knew as well. We don’t have peace in our home
the way we used to feel peace. We don’t have calm. There is more yelling and
anger and frustration in the last 3 years than the decade preceding. All these
hot emotions for 3 long years have me frayed at both ends. My tears are finally
falling. Some from utter exhaustion and some of them are from remembering the pain of my own past. Some are from the loss I have suffered in the last 3 years. I am finding they are from many places that have been buried. I am trying hard to embrace the tears. I pray that my example will make a difference to my son. I pray that he will
see my vulnerability and weakness. I pray he finds space to mourn. But most of
all, I pray for healing. Healing in his life and healing in mine.
