Don’t get too upset if she cries – tears are just her safety valve.
My brothers, to my then significant other.
Today, I was listening to Healthy Gamer (yes, I listen to Youtube videos primarily intended for frustrated young men in first world countries). And Dr K ended the session with some triphasic breathing. As he brought the guided breathing time to a close, I found myself swamped grief. The feeling crashed over me – what I imagine a wave feels like when it breaks over you. It was big, and sudden and I was so very small. So I cried. And my eyes are still “leaky”.
I read later that breath work often releases emotions. As my breath work is usually limited to quieting and soothing guided breathing to wind down for sleep, I had never experienced this. Apparently though, it’s not uncommon. You can read a little more about it here.
Now since March 2020, I’ve cried a lot. Historically, tears have been my safety valve and after a good cry I feel tired but clearer. This has not always been the case for the last 18 months. And it’s not that I have not cried. I cried when a colleague died. I cried when another left. I cried over the UCT fire, and over Afghanistan (specifically for her women). I’ve cried in front of my therapist. But my experience of living and working and supporting other academics and students during the pandemic seems to have left more grief than can be easily cried away. And after chatting to a colleague today, I’m wondering how many other people who are sitting with a grief they can can’t seem to cry away.
We’re in the process of preparing for what has historically been our teaching and learning “conference” and I think we’re going to be able to honour the moment and create a space which offers opportunity for people to work with and from not just their experiences, but also their feelings about their experiences. And I’m anticipating grief, and loss and an un-tetheredness from the certainties that have been our ground – my own, and others.
There is one other thing that I’m looking forward to that seems harder to find right now, and that’s laughter. I can find compassion, and care and thoughtful engagement with friends and colleagues – thing though, that I struggle to find, is laughter. And maybe that’s tied up with COVID-grief, and there also, for me seems to something about bodies present at the same time that nurture laughter in a way that online spaces don’t quite. Not for me. Not yet.
I have in my head that tears and laughter together will be the thing that re-ignites our internal sparks, and I am looking forward to finding again the laughter the arises around shared food and echoes in deep stairwells.