At some point in life, something shifts.
Before that, we only cry at movies.
After that… even at a detergent commercial.
I used to think pregnancy would be the first real breaking point — the moment when the big crying phase would start.
But for me, the “long-awaited” mood swings never really arrived.
Or if they tried to, they were completely overshadowed by constant nosebleeds.
Even if I’d wanted to cry, I couldn’t have.
I was far too busy dealing with not bleeding all the time.
May those months — spent with tissues stuffed up my nose — never return, not even in my nightmares.
During my second pregnancy, I had a one-year-old.
That phase wasn’t exactly about emotional vulnerability and tearful moments either.
At kindergarten Mother’s Day events, it’s usually some hardwired reflex that causes the crying — not the child’s performance itself.
I won’t even go into that, so I don’t step on any tender souls.
But no one can convince me that the tears welling up at the sight of the Squirrel Group’s classroom doorway — before the show has even started — are caused by the performance.
And as we move forward in life, we don’t even need children anymore to cry properly.
It’s enough to see a cat mom caring for the neighbor’s puppy,
or a rough-looking man stopping traffic
so a hedgehog can cross the road safely.
And don’t even get me started on trained assistance animals.
All it takes is seeing the reserved seating sign on a bus,
and my eyes fill with tears.
Crying over films, music, and other people’s stories is as natural as breathing.
Without it, something would be missing.
Some people are moved by landscapes, kind gestures, special experiences.
But when I found myself tearing up over how beautiful and multifunctional modern planners are —
with little stickers, sticky notes, colorful motivational pages, daily uplifting messages —
well, that’s when even I surprised myself.
I’m afraid the more we live, the more things there will be that can move us.
Sometimes even faded memories take on new meaning.
It’s no longer the gloves sewn into the coat that remain as nerve-shredding suffering,
but our grandmother’s hallway, where we cried while trying to pull our hands free.
Not the ugly dress we were laughed at for,
but the fact that the one who laughed the loudest has been gone for a long time.
There’s a strange, hidden corner of the mind
where sad films are made.
Their purpose is simple:
to surface in the most unexpected moments
and pull us out of everyday life
for the length of a good, cleansing cry.
And honestly, the only thing I don’t understand
is why women were designed this way.
Women. And most of us wear makeup.
While there’s no such thing as truly waterproof makeup.
Only the kind that, after a few tears,
starts smearing around your eyes,
sometimes even making its way down your face.
Black eyeliner, especially.