How Much Do I Hate Crying?

            I still remember til this day. It was when TV dramas in Malaysia are still in Cantonese. I can even remember the actress. The scene was her death on the wheelchair; it involves relatives and direct families. Deaths always make me tear up.

            That day I was only about 6 years old. I hold my tears in. I stood up with a poker face or more like a face that shows toughness and that-was-nothing. I walked into the bathroom and tears came down my face. I wash my face really quickly to make sure no one notices. Return to the room where my parents and I were watching TV late night (for a 6-year-old), pretend that I just used the bathroom and never cried.

            What walls and self-defense that I was putting up as a 6-year-old? Why would I have to toughen up for a TV drama? I will never know because I never remember a lot about my childhood and brought up. I have bits and pieces everywhere on a scattered timeline. My memory plays a huge part of my testimony that I will write about some other day. But as far as I remember, I hated crying, very much. 

            If you know me when I am in America, you have probably seen me cry a few times. Especially during Oasis (Campbellsville University BCM weekly worship event), conferences, Summer Project, or while we watch movies! 

            First time that I went to church and worship services, I would cry very hard and loud and full of teary snot all over my face. If that was not the Holy Spirit, I was crazy. Every single time? Really? When I accepted Christ in my heart, alone in my dorm room, I wept so badly. And God gave me my calling, PEOPLE. 

            My point is, I hated crying and try every way to prevent crying in front of anyone. My first love, I have never cried for him. Well, I did. When I forced myself to cry for the lost and I got several tear drops from it. I did the most stupid and silly mistake and hurt him (and me) very badly. I regretted that I never told him I love him and he meant a lot to me. 

            Even though I made up my regret later on; we were communicating with each other by writing on cell phone, we couldn’t talk because we and all our friends are sleeping in the room for our annual gathering. He rejected my love and I found out that is because his heart no longer belongs to me. 

            I did not cry. I was full of pain on the inside that no one knows. I was mad at myself for being a coward. For letting this love of ours slip away without confronting him nor confessing my own feelings. But I did not cry. I kept everything to myself. 

           Deaths. I do cry in public when I cannot held it in no more. But the rest of the pain, I kept it for the darkness. The pain, fear, and sadness are meant to be secrets that I kept. Emotions that I keep behind my clown mask. 

            I will pick up this topic again sometime later. Keep reading and there will be part two of this topic. Don't forget to drop your comments and your story! Say hi and thanks for stopping by!