I Am a Cry Baby. “I’ve always been a cry baby, but grief… | by Garima Chauhan

I Am a Cry Baby

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Sometimes being strong means crying alone, in the dark, where no one can see.

I am a cry baby. Have always been.

When I was young, I would cry if food was not to my liking, or my brother didn’t give me the TV remote, or when my parents left for office, leaving me in day care. I cried for everything — so much so that I was teased by everyone.

As I grew up, my friend — my tears — visited me less often, especially at times I needed them the most. Like when I lost my father, I didn’t cry much. I wanted to, but just couldn’t. There was so much to do that responsibilities pushed emotions further back.

When I saw him being taken away for his last rites, my tears dried up as I was holding my mother, who was in a bad shape. Relatives had to make me cry, telling me my father was no more. I cried at night, all alone, many days past that day. But every time, my tears dried up too soon.

The pain was there, but my normal outlet refused to come out. I should have cried easily, but I couldn’t.

Later, I would tell myself: if I cried all the time, who will look after my mother? I have to be strong. So I wiped my tears, and the pain never got released.

I didn’t cry much when I lost my younger cousin to cancer. He was just 21 years old, fighting cancer for the last 7 years. He was the most lively, cheerful, and positive person I knew. He wanted to live but was not given the chance.

He and I were very close. I had held him as a baby, and later he played with my daughter. But when he died and I saw him lying motionless, tears didn’t rush out. His death wasn’t sudden — we all knew he would leave us soon — but that never prepares anyone.

My tears didn’t flow freely that day either.

I had to take care of my mother and my daughter. I had to be strong.

When did crying start to mean you are not strong? Who said tears show weakness?

I cry at night, all alone in the dark, for hours, and then fall asleep on a wet pillow.

I’m still a cry baby — just not for everyone to see.

I have responsibilities. I have people to take care of. I’m a grown-up. So I can’t cry like a little girl anymore, for anything and everything.

But crying alone at night, in the dark — that’s okay. Nobody can see your tears. They become your friends; they lighten your heart, give you that much-needed relief, and they don’t prick anyone else too.