Shystoyteller

When I was in college, I lived in a four-sharing room. The room was big enough for all of us, or so it seemed that time. The only issue was that there was only one washroom.

I don’t know if that was a big bone of contention for other girls or not. But in our room, bathroom occupancy was always an issue.

Which brings me to my biggest problem. I didn’t have a place to cry. See, the thing is, I do not like to cry in front of anyone. Or let’s say I am not close enough to anyone to show them my tears. So, I got really good at controlling my emotions. But no matter how much I can control it, there comes a time when I need to cry and let it all out. And I preferred to cry on my own schedule instead of erupting randomly.

The hostel rooftop was my favorite hideout. Not many girls knew that the door wasn’t always locked and even fewer ever got up there. It was so peaceful to go hide in a corner on the rooftop and then cry my heart out while watching the stars. Well, watching as much as I could through my teary eyes. The thing is, it was peaceful.

But then four girls decided to go to the roof to smoke cigarettes (at least I hope they were just cigarettes, but what do I know). See, I have no issues with anyone who wants to burn their lungs. Just be smart enough to not get caught. How difficult was that?

But those girls got caught and then the warden got involved. Their parents were called, and the rooftop was permanently locked.

I wanted to cry about that too, but I had no place to cry.

As I walked around the hostel building, looking for a place to cry, I knew it was useless. Well, I also realized how pathetic it was, but that is an entire topic on its own.

I went out. My college building was right behind the hostel building. So, naturally, that was the first place I went to. The building was locked like every night. I knew that. But I was still hoping to find some dark corner which I found next to the lecture room #3. Well, not exactly a corner, but more like space between a broken wall and under the window of the lecture hall. I know I can’t describe it well. You just had to be there to understand.

Anyway, so I sat on the ground under the window partially hidden by the wall and I started crying. Back then, I was an expert in crying on command. I was always on the verge of tears and had to work hard to not cry. So, letting myself cry was the easy part.

I was getting to the good part – you know, the part where you start hiccups while sobbing – the ones that shake your entire body – yeah, that part. But the universe never liked me crying and loved to interject obstacle after obstacle. This time, it came in the form of some foreign exchange student.

I am sure he was lost on the campus when he found me crying. Oh, I know the irony behind it. How do I know that he was lost? Well, you see, my college building was the last building on the campus. It was nighttime, there was nothing and I repeat nothing there for anyone to come there.

There was a chance that he might have been looking for some privacy too (like me) in which case he was not lost.

Whatever the case may be, he found me crying and then started questioning me. He wasn’t unkind or rude or anything. I guess he just didn’t know how to react when you find a girl crying behind a broken wall in the middle of the night.

I was in no mood to give him any explanation. I just wanted him gone. He, too, wanted the same from me. Before I could do or even say something, he managed to convince me that I should not be out of my hostel so late at night, crying all alone. He said it wasn’t safe or something. I wasn’t paying much attention.

I knew he was not going to leave until I left and my crying plan was already ruined so I went back to my room where my roommates were doing god knows what.

That was my life back then. Looking for a place to cry peacefully. I can’t be the only one feeling that way, right? I am sure others want some privacy too, but just don’t talk about it openly.

After college, I got my first job which barely paid anything. Which led me to share a three-bedroom apartment with five other girls. In case you do not want to do too many calculations, it comes down to two girls in each room sharing one bathroom. It was better than the hostel, at least.

With just one girl to share my bathroom with, I could easily cry there, especially late at night or sometimes even in the early mornings. It was good to have a place where I could cry undisturbed.

During my post-graduation, I lived lavishly. I had a single room. All the privacy in the world was just mine. I felt so free back then. It was even better than the two years when I lived all alone in a two-bedroom apartment. I had all the space I needed to cry. And I did cry a lot back then. It was amazing.

Then I got married and things took a turn towards crazy territory.

See, most people don’t know how to react when they see someone crying. Remember the foreign exchange student who found me? Well, I was used to a similar reaction with occasional awkward attempts to tell me not to cry. But my husband was a bit too awkward. He would start laughing for some reason. Well, he would say there was no reason, but I still wonder. Do I need to say that he soon became my ex? Not just because of the crying thing. There were a lot of other reasons.

But the thing that changed during my marriage was that I stopped crying. Not just holding back my tears until I could find some privacy to cry. But rather I could not cry even when I was all alone, and I was all alone a lot.

At that time I had a physical room to cry but lacked emotional room. It took me a long time to realize how important is the emotional room was . Maybe more than the physical room. I mean, when I did not have a physical room; I found a hidden corner or deserted rooftop to cry. But lacking the emotional room was not an easy fix. Wherever I would go, I would carry the emotional stuff with me.

Some days, I still feel like I am living in a hostel surrounded by too many roommates and looking for a place to hide and cry.

These days I have mastered the art of crying even when I am not alone. See, the thing is that people don’t pay as much attention to us as much as we think they do.

The secret is that no one cares.

I have cried in the office washroom – that was easy enough. Besides, I wasn’t the only one crying in one of the stalls. I swear, I heard sobbing from at least three other stalls the last time I was crying there.

Crying at the desk is also possible. You just need to be a little smart about it.

What I like to do is remove my glasses and then use my handkerchief to pretend that I am wiping down sweat while I wipe down the tears. Most likely, no one will notice. Hardly anyone will ask you. And even if anyone asks, it’s easy to pretend that your eyes are watery because of staring at the laptop screen for too long. That one always works in the office.

But my current favorite is to cry in an office cab. This one is a no-brainer. You just look out the window and let the tears soak your face. No need to even wipe them off. They will dry eventually. No one will notice the tears and you have a ready excuse of air pollution irritating your eyes.

In many ways, it’s much easier to cry in public these days without anyone bothering you about it. Just make sure you are not wearing any kind of makeup that would make it very obvious.

Master the art of crying silently and you can cry anywhere, anytime.