Thursday, July 09, 2020

I asked a QUESTION online and here are the POWERFUL responses.

BECOMING Questions

I asked BHP's online if they would answer this question::

‘When was the last time you cried & WHY?’
The ‘why’ is important as it digs deeper into your soul than a simple fact.
As always I share my own answer first.
Here it is followed by other beautiful humans.


A couple of weeks ago I cried
when I was watching a UK TV programme of live music.
It is called ‘LATER' - a late evening programme.
That barrel chested singer Gregory Porter stepped to the mike and sang::
'Purple Rain’.
He is a Jazz singer, not a bit like Prince but a beautiful human.
I love his voice coming out of his massive frame.
I wept
I was moved
I was touched deep in my soul.
Every artist on the show, every instrumentalist started singing in chorus.
Every person in the audience began singing ……..
I have never EVER seen that before.
A Tribute to Prince
but + a great stand alone majestic music moment.
WHY was I weeping? I think it was because it was a deep sense of community.
I believe their was a climate of empathy, trust, community and I felt it.
You can see video  /  FEEL IT HERE::

Pip Wilson

The last time I cried was a few months ago , I have anger problems  and this has caused a lot of pain to myself and my family over the years, I have  worked hard on my anger issues and thankfully my behaviour has improved a lot, and so I had a rage attack at my family a little while ago and afterwards I cried with guilt and shame.i hate it and myself when I do this.
I ve not forgiven myself fully for my anger yet andI know I need to but can't quite manage it yet.
Thankfully I've never used physical violence to my family.

The last time I cried was on Friday evening. I was having a heart to heart with a loved one.
They had been embarrassed to receive kindness from me, and had showed frustration and short words at the time.
They were because they felt guilty, embarrassed and somewhat undeserving.
My tears; for the hurt I felt that they struggled to receive an unconditional gesture. Sadness that they didn't feel 'worth it'.
Sad that I caused pain when I wanted to bring pleasure and a feeling of being loved and cared for in the other person, and that self love is not spread thicker than Marmite.
Joy and a smile on somebody else's face is worth a thousand sunrises xx

When was the last time I cried and why - April 20th & for a  few days after when old age caught up with our dog and we had to take our faithful companion of many years to the vet for one final time.
As a friend commented "the price of years of unconditional love is a period of unbearable pain" :'(


I don't cry often, in fact I think I cry with laughter more than out of upset. The last time I cried from laughter was watching Tim Vine on tv. The last time I was upset was probably when Dad died, seven months ago. I'd gone for a walk up the hills after washing him and changing his clothes for the night. The carer was feeding him so that we could have a half hour in fresh air. When I got back, he was dead. I sobbed for about an hour, holding his hand, talking to him, and praying. He was a lovely father and a great inspiration.

The last time I really cried was the first time my wife returned to Moscow. We'd met at Gatwick airport then started building our relationship via social media. She came to the UK to visit me in Dec 2012 and stayed for a week. I dropped her back at the airport, watched her go through customs and started the drive home. I got five minutes down the road and spent the next 20 minutes driving with floods of tears in my eyes. I never cried once when I came to the end of a 12 year relationship yet a week with Natasha and I was missing her already. It's when I knew I really loved her….
Ian J

This is strange for me, I’ve been a very emotional person since being a young child, but whenever people speak of crying, I am brought back to nine year old me, stood in the headmistress’ office, being severely reprimanded for crying too much. This has left a deep mark on me about how people generally view the expression of emotions. Not once did the headmistress try to establish what was making me cry (being bullied at school and a difficult home experience) I was just told off for expressing my emotions.

Thankfully, I have learnt that she was wrong, and that expressing emotions does not have to be a bad thing, but I suppose deep down, I always feel I am being judged when I do express emotions, especially tears.
Most recently, I have cried a few times; over loss of relationships where friends have grown apart, over realisation that life is unfair, and so often I cry over my work. I see children in horrific home situations on a daily basis, and much as I want to, I can’t always ‘fix’ things for them. I weep over their experiences, and I grieve over their future, knowing that life will be entirely unfair, and their start in life will often have such a negative/traumatic impact, that their future looks bleak. I weep because I know change is possible, but that bureaucracy often prevents it. We are growing dysfunctional adults, unprepared and ill equipped to take on the challenge of adulthood, and the future is bleak for them, so bleak. I continue to work for better outcomes for them, knowing what I do may never be enough, my heart breaks for these beautiful children, unable to break free and forever victimised by ‘the system’. I have to hold on to hope, and hold onto it for them, as that is often something they know nothing about. They have never seen life from a different view, and often don’t even know that there is a different way.

I weep for our children, I weep for the society that has created these inequalities, but I work hard day in day out, hoping that I can make a difference, make the outcomes better for just one of these children, and I hope. I hope that I can help one life, just one life to break free of the negative cycle and change the future into something bright and beautiful for this one life.


Yesterday ....Had a small tear saying goodbye to my 60 wonderful SEN minor specialist Undergraduates - they are about to graduate and most of them will teach, some are working with children in other capacities, all of them will change someone's world for the better.

The last time I cried properly was in December 2015. I went to Karbala, Iraq on a pilgrimage to the grave of Imam Hussain. He is my hero, my role model, my everything since I was born. I touched his mausoleum and I felt a connection with him. I felt God's presence and I wept because of what he means to me. I wept because I felt I was not worthy to be next to him. I wept because of the suffering he went through in his life. In fact, as I write this, I cry nearly everyday. I sometimes cry when I speak to God in prayer or when I read/listen to poetry and eulogies about Imam Hussain which is all that is in my earphones. Crying for Imam Hussain is considered an honour and a sign of a soft-heart in my religion.

A few nights ago I was watching a documentary about the way the Jews were treated in the war ... It was not the first time I had seen this kind of thing ... I have seen many documentaries about it ... But either this was far more graphic or I was far more sensitive to it ... It was very graphic ... I at first thought it far too graphic, I hated it ... I wanted to turn my face away from the naked, twisted bodies, too many to number, that were so unlike human that it was difficult to see where one body ended and another began, this was horrific, a hell like scene before my eyes ... I would have turned my face away but for shames sake, those poor souls deserved better from me than that ... So I looked on as tears filled my eyes ... Some Germans were recounting their experiences, they were so proud of what they had done to the Jews, they boasted about it ... I was quite shocked at their response and after the programme ended I questioned myself on who I'd been crying for ...
Those Germans, who still can't see what they did ... The dehumanised victims naked, twisted bodies, too many to number ...
Or myself, because such an horrific scene offends my comfortable sensibilities ... God save us from ever becoming comfortable or treating people as if they are less than beautiful human beings.

Last Monday. After a year's work, one of my students went and took her first exam. Even six months ago, we were not sure if she would even be alive, her mental state is so fragile that she does not cope with stress at all. But she went in and did it.

The last time that I cried was when visiting my mother in her retirement home.
The past year has been a rollercoaster of experiences for the whole unravelling...diagnosis sought...where-to-next..
At times she has been lost, apparently beyond reach. ..?
Our souls were shredded...many times over.  Some family members stretched to an emotional thinness unimaginable.
I went in dreading and doubting, feeling  anticipation and not the in a good way.
Instead, I was met with a broad smile...clear understanding. ..positive chatting....interest in other family and friends... she is back in touch with folk once more, cards and very positive and caring...had her toe nails painted...and is keeping an eye on the garden birds! I couldn't take it...
Eyes  filled...heart filled.  Would I cry? Or laugh? My nose felt like it would explode.  My joints threatened to give way;  I felt like a puppet whose strings had been cut and I was about to have no control...over anything.
I made a lame excuse and left the crowded lounge. Then wept.
I ve shared these emotions because I am not a naturally touchy  feely person.
Maybe there are more of us around?
Maybe it is ok...really sometimes feel out of control emotionally?
Maybe being vulnerable....even to ok?

I cried having been so absorbed in my book, that when the main character was euthanised unwillingly,I was heart broken. A brilliant book, and so emotionally engaging. Francine Rivers Leota's Garden.

I shed a few tears the other night. I can't remember why - think it was something I'd just watched on TV - but I found myself thinking of my Daddy. He passed 10 years ago but my heart still aches with missing him. He had Alzheimers and if it wasn't for my mother's devoted and expert care we'd have lost all his personality, but it was still there at the end. Since his funeral my 3 siblings and I gather every year to take Mum out for her birthday. As we have coffee at her house afterwards, each year I remember the family photos we took after the service. And recall all the stories we told about Dad. None of us have a bad memory of him. We each have some different memories, but we all seem to remember the terrible puns. Dad taught me to ride a bike, drive, change a car wheel, frame a picture. He also taught me to make sure my guests' drinks are topped up and not to be afraid to ask a total stranger for a hug. He even tried to explain the finer points of tax law to me. Well he tried.
I found myself telling him last night - you did good, Dad. And now I'm crying again, because I'll always miss him. Yes he was saved. He didn't talk about it much; it was taken as read, and demonstrated in love for everyone.

I cry frequently, I am very emotionally driven and wear my heart on my sleeve. If you'd asked me earlier in the week I would probably have last cried at a film/TV programme, however this week we saw our little baby at the 20 week ultrasound scan, so that's what I cried for last! Happy tears obviously!xx

The last time I cried was at my cousins funeral last week.  The reason was that at the service in the church when she was being carried out to go to the crematium, she wanted the tune "don't stop me now" by Queen. Gilly was ready to be received by God and was so strong. She planned her funeral right to the end. Such an amazing lady.

I've always been a bit tender-hearted, shedding tears over the good stuff as well as the bad.
I last cried last week.I was chatting to my (grown up) daughter about her brother. When they were small, I suffered from undiagnosed depression. Because I'm generally an extrovert and love being with people, it hit the family very hard when I began to withdraw and isolate myself. At times I was cripplingly anxious and just could not do the things I wanted to. It meant a number of missed milestones for the children - concerts unattended (although my husband still went to everything) football matches missed and family meals out without mum.
Being children, they were unable to fully understand - many times, I didn't understand either! I eventually got help, counselling and medication, and recovered BUT although my daughter has been able to reconcile this and our relationship is restored and great, her brother still feels let down. He's never said as much, although he cites his dad as a hero at every opportunity (he is a idea how he put up with me) and I just feel that there is a coolness and a distance. I love both my children without reserve and it cripples me to think my beautiful boy might never be able to forgive me...more tears!

I cried last week as a result of teaching Tennesee Williams' 'The Glass Menagerie' for the nth time. Shattered dreams as shattered rainbows gets me every time. I'm reminded of a West End production in 1995 starring Zoe Wannamaker as the redoubtable Amanda Wingfield. It was my sole visit to London, and the memory haunts me still.

Last time I cried was last week watching television when a 5 year old stood up for the first time after being told when she was born that she would never stand. She is now learning to walk!

The last time I cried was last week in my car driving to work. I had to hold back the deep gutteral tears that were forming or I would not be able to see to drive and my contact lens would be blurry all day!  So I released some of the tears but not all.
I need desperately a good guttural cry but don't have an alone place just yet where I am free to let it all out not worrying about the sounds that come out from deep in my soul.  I am not sure why those deep guttural tears hit me that particular morning but they have been forming for a while. Why?
Weeping for the stress I have been under the last three years caring for my parents' illnesses. Weeping for the way it tore my family apart. I had to live through it, keep going, be strong, live life. Work. Grieve. No time to weep then.
 Weeping for the restoration God brought to our family. A true miracle. Grateful to God.
Weeping for the resentment at having to let go of some of my life to help care for my parents. Weeping for the guilt because they have sacrificed so much for me over the years and have loved me unconditionally. The least I can do is care for them.
Weeping for this season of life. My time is precious with my parents. I don't want to lose them but that is the cycle of life. I am afraid to be left alone. I love them so deeply. The cycle of life continues on.
Weeping because I won't be a mother to my own children. Weeping at the anger towards God for not allowing me to experience a precious life growing inside me and raising that precious child.
Weeping at more anger towards God for not bringing that precious soul mate into my life even though I felt I have lived how He wanted me to live as  a Christian. I am definitely not perfect but I tried my best.
Weeping at these thoughts because I know God has given me a fabulous life and I have experienced so much!  I have not put my life on hold. I am grateful for my life. Weeping because I am just plain overwhelmed.
Clearly I need a guttural release. And soon!  Funny how many of these same issues I am weeping over return to the forefront of my mind and I weep a little here and there. But I need that deep soul wrenching release. Praying I find a space where I can cry, really cry and be free.

I cried last autumn several times. It was after 30 years of not-crying. It was because I saw no sollution for me and my wife to continue our marriage. She was not willing to listen for a long time, to what I wanted her to notice. It felt so helpless. Thank God, we both were able to listen to each other then and things got much better! 

I cry often, so did not have to go back far.
I read things that move me
Then read them aloud to my wife
And cry when reading it aloud
Was reading a review of “I Love You Mum”
A play about Dan (16) who died from a lethal MDMA dose
Reading aloud the play’s most touching line 
Brought out the tears
His friend says
“I had double English and no Dan”.
I have two teenage sons
One of whom has just escaped from a dangerous drug episode
But the tears were not just for that
But also for a world where for many young people
drugs provide a seeming escape from drudgery and despair
tears of pain and anguish
tears as a prayer for some light and hope in our world.

I seem to have cried a lot lately. It was my Uncles funeral last Tuesday and it’s been hard for very many reasons. I cried because I am sad and I will miss him, I cried for the family he has left behind and I know they will find it hard. I cried for the many amazing memories I have and that now there are no more opportunities to create more. I cried because he was always there for me when I needed someone when I left home, giving me a place to stay when our flat had been burnt out and I needed somewhere to stay, collecting me and feeding me when my heart was broken, and being there when I was given bad news, and becausue he believed in me and in my choices when other people doubted them. I smiled too, through the tears at the joy of knowing someone so special and of how he squeezed my hand so hard in hospital. I smiled because he has passed down all his tools to my son and all that signifies... I smile because I can hear his voice in my head so clearly, and then I cry because I can’t see him again... I also know that soon I will cry less and smile more, I already am.

Cry at the drop of hat. Very emotional. Cry when I see children hurt by those who were put there to love them and those who should have protected them. Happened in my childhood and battled all my life for children in same position; Battled for those who survived childhood abuse that damaged its life. Got my name in a book at a family court as someone “not to be trusted!” All because a child disclosed to me the horror of his life. So continue to try and be a paraclete presence to them for as long as it takes and longer. Keep calm when I listen to folk (learnt so much from Ken Leech). When folk go home then I cry. 


I have just wept again reading these most beautiful ‘open book’ reflections and feel so privileged.