They Told Me Not to Cry. So I Got Angry Instead

My hands were balled into fists so tight my nails dug into my palms and broke the skin. I’d been told never to cry, so I let the emotion out the only way I knew how: I slammed my fist into the side of my car. Then again. And again. And again.

My knuckles split open. My outer layer of skin peeled away as it scraped the hot metal. When I finally stopped, I looked down and saw nothing but tiny dents, barely visible marks in the door panel, like scattered hailstones. After all that rage, all that pain… it hardly left a scratch. And somehow, that made me even angrier.

My girlfriend just walked away from me after a heated argument. It wasn’t anything she said exactly. She didn’t say anything that made me explode. I wasn’t angry, I was hurt. Both of us were dealing with life, we were stressed. But for the 100th time, she disregarded my feelings.

That’s what this was all about. In that moment, she made it clear to me that what I was feeling was unimportant, that my wellbeing was unimportant, that I… was unimportant. For the 100th time, we had to prioritize her feelings. I didn’t want to prioritize myself. I just wanted to be acknowledged…

The way she cast aside my feelings as unimportant, stung so badly I wanted to cry. I felt it in my nose, behind my forehead, in the way my breathing changed. But the whole world taught me that “men don’t cry”. My father taught me, men don’t cry. From an early age he toughened me up.

Truthfully, I am grateful for my father for preparing me for the real world. For teaching me to stand up and keep trudging forward. But he failed to teach me that crying was sometimes necessary. That I didn’t have to hold in the emotions behind closed doors. That I could be vulnerable with myself.

Even worse was my ex wife. She never berated me, never yelled at me, was never mean to me. So I thought I could be safe around her, that I could open up to her. But when I did cry around her, when the world around me broke me, she left the room… She made it clear, I was on my own.

So now I’m with a woman I plan on spending the rest of my life with. Someone who has proven she cares about me. She made me feel safe. She made me feel heard… most of the time. If she’s in a good place, she is beyond amazing. But her emotions are always prioritized over mine.

The thing is, I accept that. She has dealt with much more than me. Her life was much harder and more traumatic. So I put a lot of energy into her mental health. But when I needed support, I felt left to fend for myself.

So she walked away. I’m staring at my car door, feeling the tears well up. But I never allowed myself to cry. Anger felt like my only outlet. You know how she felt? She felt scared. Scared of me, scared of my rage, even scared for me.

In that moment, I failed because she didn’t feel safe with me. She never thought I would hurt her physically. But she felt like a hostage. She worried I would keep being self destructive. All I felt was guilt.

My outburst wasn’t positive. It didn’t make her see my point, it didn’t help me heal, it pushed her further away. I had to find a better way. I did the one thing I never liked doing. I cried. I sat alone and cried until I couldn’t anymore. And you know what? It helped.

It felt like all the poison was being drained. I wasn’t angry anymore, the pressure in my sinuses lessened, and I could think clearly. I took a hard look at myself and was not satisfied with what I saw. I was an angry boy throwing a tantrum.

With my head clear, I told my girlfriend I wanted to talk and open up with her. She was hesitant after my outburst but she listened. I could properly explain my feelings and why I was hurting. Everything isn’t magically fixed, but we’re both in a better place and closer than ever.

My hands, stinging, blood dried on the knuckles, were unclenched. The tension gone, my body relaxing. My girlfriend cleaned and bandaged them up. Gently scolding me not to hurt myself like that. I felt better than ever.

If you take one message from this story. Let it be that it’s okay to cry alone. I hope you’re lucky enough to find someone who will comfort you when you cry. But it’s more important that you can cry alone. That’s where the healing begins.

I’m still unlearning the lie that anger makes a man and sadness makes him weak. But I’m finally learning to feel, even when it hurts.

If you’ve ever felt this way too, you’re not alone. I’d love to hear your story.