tears of the giraffe

Tears of the giraffe is one of the wonderful books written by my favourite author Alexander Mcall Smith.  the title is explained in the following passage:

It was a traditional Botswana basket, with a design worked into the weaving.

"These little marks here are tears," she said. "The giraffe gives its tears to the women and they weave them into the basket."..."You are very kind, Mma", she said. "But why did the giraffe give its tears?"

Mma Ramotswe shrugged; she had never thought about it. "I suppose that it means that we can all give something," she said. A giraffe has nothing else to give--only tears." (p.226)

This morning  I started to cry; not the insane weeping for unknown reasons that precipitated this episode, but big fat tears rolling down my face in silence. Tears can be for all sorts of reasons.  Yesterday as I waited in the waiting room with other anxious mothers one of the mothers started to cry.  How I envied her.  I wanted to cry too but could not.  I just wanted to let out all the pain and sadness but I began to think that the anti depressants that helped me to stop that insane crying blocked my feelings too.  I could not react and cry properly anymore.  Over the last few weeks I have cried ocassionally but not tears of sadness, I have mostly cried out of frustration.  I saw in that woman's face the loss and pain and sadness and possible the need to just let it all out.  All the mothers in the room understood why she cried or at least knew that they too might be sitting in that chair crying.  This morning I got up feeling good but as sat down to hem my daughters new school pants I started to cry, big fat wet tears rolled down my face, I cried for the men I loved and lost, I cried for my children, I cried for all the sadness I ever felt and could not explain, I cried from relief, from all the judgements I had lumped on myself and others , I cried for my mother, I cried for my daughters' teachers , I cried for my friends, I cried for my lost friendships , I cried for the feeliong I wil not allow myslf to share with someone for whom I care deeply but does not care for me in the same way, I cried for the weight I put on in the last few months, I cried for the life I did not have, I cried for all the confusion and things I could not name, I cried for my dead pets, I cried for my lost toy duck, I cried for the friendships that I lost because I could not tell my friends that the things they did hurt me so much I could not speak, I cried for all the younger versions of myself that did not understand why they were crying, I cried for myself, the me that I am now.  It has taken me 43 years to be able to name the things I am crying for.  Perhaps like the giraffe sometimes we can only give tears but in the tears there is healing.  I cried healing tears for the first time in my life.  I did not end up in the hiccouping drained bereft grief stricken state that tears had lead me too before.  I wiped away my tears on the sleeve of the lovely new pink derssing gown I bought myself last week. I represents a fresh start for me.  I wandered around so long in my dressing gown that my grief and confusion seems to have been absorbed into it.  I no longer feel good when I wear it.  So while shopping last week I bought myself new night ware , just for me, with no man in mind or no ocassion, such as hospital or visiting relatives, or the winter, just a pretty dressing gown that keeps me warm and cosy in the cool spring mornings.  So I wiped my eyes in the frilly pink sleeve of my new dressing gown.  Took up my needle and thread and did the right thing, I sewed the hem and grieved for the part of me that answered to the beck and call of others , who sought to find her way by being lead by others, who needed others to tell her what to do, how to think, how to be, and could feel the feelings of others so strongly that she lost the ability to feel her own feelings and know her own mind.  Perhaps I dont know my own mind yet, but I know my own feelings now, they might be a bit of a mishmash but they are all valid.  When the anxiety starts to take hold I can understand that it is a feeling and can release it or help it pass.  When I am ready I can deal with the thing that is making me anxious and not push myself to do so while I am in the middle of a visit from the anxiety fairy. I can cry now and know why.  I also know that there will be times when I cry and dont know why but I have the tools to explore and release the feeling.  Feelings are not facts and well how real are many alleged facts anyway ? So much is distorted by opinion now that it is difficult to tell some facts from fiction.    

For me reality at the moment is a very untidy house in need of a clean.  That is my fact for the day.  So I am off to put my house in order and act like the adult that I am.  Doing the right thing is not easy in the short term but repeatedly doing the right thing leads to the formation of good habits and gives us strength.  Doing the wrong thing can have an instant and gratifying payoff but in the long term it damages us.  Today I said goodbye to just that.  Right now it is painful but eventually I will see the benefits .  I love myself too much now to be second best anymore. 

Happy Wednesday.

So next time you cry feel the wetness of the tears, the speed of your breathing, the saltyness, the heat and the relief.  Cry mindfully and be enlightened.