Why It’s Okay to Cry: Lessons from Childhood Trauma

May 22, 2025May 22, 2025 / Zombie / Leave a comment

I’m sure that there are more than a few of you out there who are familiar with the term “stop crying or I’ll give you something to cry about.” This was a popular phrase used during the years I was growing up. Subtle threats of violence were used in order to gain control of children. “If I stop this car you’re going to be sorry.” While we can read these now and perhaps snicker, there is something to this that begs for attention. Crying is defined as “the shedding of tears, weeping.” Depending on your situation, there’s often much more behind the tears, or weeping. I’ll explore this and share my view.

I was raised to keep emotions in check. The phrase “stop crying or I’ll give you something to cry about” was more than just a phrase to me, it was reality. While my father was not one for beating kids, he had other tactics that could dig in deeper. He spoke in such a fashion that fear cut straight through your heart. You truly felt that if you uttered so much as another peep, terrible things would be unleashed upon you at any given moment. I learned to be silent. I was trained to control tears much the same way that he did when he was growing up. There was literally just a handful of times that I saw my father actually cry. He even remained a stone wall when family members passed away. He was meant to be strong, and tears were a sign of weakness to him. This too was passed on to me: Tears are for the weak. Show nothing. Feel nothing.

This made things easy when transitioning from my father’s grasp to that of a drug czar. “There are no friends in the business” along with “never trust anyone” were carryovers from the days of no crying. I never shed a tear for anyone while doing my “job” in the drug world. I felt nothing for anyone, and if I did see someone crying, it only hardened me further. In my head, they were weak and should be brushed aside. That was my reality.

Years later, once I stepped into the room with my counselor and started to explore all of the events of the past, I felt myself welling up, wanting to cry. I’d immediately stop talking and get angry because I was spilling these tears of “weakness.” I was doing so in front of another human which made it even worse because now I was vulnerable. I’d find myself trying to hide the tears, or quickly wiping them from my cheek as if they never existed. Amy would ask me why I was getting upset about crying. I’d explain that it showed my weakness, I didn’t want anyone to see that side of me. I was trained this way, and carried it through my adult life that tears were a bad thing. Occasionally I’d have moments in the shower where I’d just let everything leak out without any witnesses. Or perhaps late at night when my wife had gone to bed, I’d hide my eyes in my recliner and weep. I would sob – a thing that I wasn’t “supposed” to do.

Let me say now that this way of thinking is so very wrong. We should let children experience everything and allow emotions to be shown. Tears are a part of that and can be cleansing. I found in my therapy that more and more frequently, tears would be shed. The reason was simple: I’d come back to life! I was experiencing things that I’d never been allowed to in the past. I was crying (in public!), and my tears didn’t make me weak, they were making me whole again. I was beginning to heal. I learned that as a child I was damaged and always waiting for someone, or something to help me. I realized as an adult that it was me that I was waiting for. I think at times that I’ve become the person that I wish would’ve been there for me earlier in my life. I feel as though I’ve grown into this superhero of sorts. Standing by saying, “It’s alright to cry.” It takes time to unlearn all of the things that we learned earlier in our lives. We need to be patient and forgiving. There’s that word again, “Forgiving.” The definition of Forgiving is the action or process of forgiving or being forgiven. While I’ve always hoped others would forgive me for my transgressions, I’ve been seeking my own forgiveness for a very long time. I can feel myself sitting right on the edge of this, but not quite there. Time will have to be my friend and guide me to the forgiveness that I seek.

If you find yourself shedding tears for loss, for trauma, or perhaps just in happiness, be good with it. Feel the salty warmth of the tears run down your cheek – really feel it. Your body wants to let go of emotions. Don’t hold them in or stuff them down. You have my permission to let go – it’s alright to cry.

Thanks for following along on my journey.

~Robert~

Understanding Trauma

November 14, 2024November 15, 2024 / Zombie / Leave a comment

If you follow this blog than you know my subjects can be one of the many random things that are still floating around in my head, or possibly something prompted by discussions. Today’s blog is going to focus on the ability to “get over” something. I don’t think that everyone quite gets what I’m going through, and that’s alright. I’m not judging, but I do feel that it’s an opportunity to share. Perhaps I can assist people to see things from a different perspective, or shift the angle by which they view things. Let’s get into it.

Having been damaged by past events has caused a mental strain on myself and those around me. For much of my life I’ve kept everything to myself, never sharing anything about my past, not even with my family for fear of many things. When I was still in the “thick” of it, I knew better than to discuss anything that I was doing, knowing full well that it could bring about serious repercussions. Part of why I hid everything was for the protection of those I cared about. Later in life it was more that I didn’t want to be judged. I also didn’t feel that it was necessary to always bring up things that I’d done, I mean why not just stuff it down and lock it away. “The past is the past”, right? Not so much…I’ll explain.

I truly felt that everything that had gone on was now done. The people involved are gone now, and I’m pretty sure that there’s no one who would want to look me up at this point. Some of the trauma that I encountered at different times was put in a very safe place inside of my head. Locked away so that no one would ever know. What I failed to understand is that the human brain has a wonderful way of bubbling these events back up. Sometimes in the form of nightmares, or changing your way of acting towards other people. It seeps through the cracks of that locked box and teaches you that what you thought was securely stored away has really just been waiting to appear again.

How I handled relationships changed, the way I thought about work changed, sleep patterns were an absolute mess, and loved ones were growing concerned. I tried on my own to figure out a way to make the “bad” things go away. To keep the darkness from coming back into my life. I worked hard to hold back the demon inside. It was time for help. When I discovered my counselor, it was originally for the purpose of helping my daughter deal with her issues. I’d stay after for a few minutes and have a discussion with the counselor about how things had been going at home with Taylor, what changes I’d noticed etc. I think that my counselor (Amy) could feel that something was just off with me, like I was holding things back. She finally just threw it out there and asked me if I wanted to come in and have a discussion. I decided it was time.

Now, I started seeing her and we had some fairly open discussions, but I still kept my dirtiest secrets. I’ve learned to never trust anyone and if I shared the deepest, darkest things with her, once again I’d be vulnerable. We worked together for a bit and I started to feel that she was genuine. She was real and I could trust her. She even opened up about some of her own past in order to show that it was ok to do so. That gave me comfort. I can still remember the day that I went to an appointment and just sat there for a second and said, “I have to give you full disclosure if I’m ever going to get better.” I unloaded everything. I will tell you now that there are only a few people in my life who know “everything.” Amy was the first person to hear all that I had buried away.

We worked on so much after that, and I found it to be cleansing. I started to be more at peace with myself. I found that there were numerous things that I’d completely blocked out that still held a spot within me. We began doing EMDR (Eye movement desensitization and reprocessing) therapy. This is something used with people that suffer with PTSD (Post traumatic stress disorder). I definitely fit the bill with that. I will tell you that this form of therapy can do great things, but it’s hard to get through, at least it was for me. I found myself feeling very drained after a session of this and usually had to take a nap right afterwards. It helps to dig out the mess that we bury inside, reprocess it in a more positive fashion. If you suffer from a trauma, this probably sounds terrifying. None of us wants to relive the trauma, but the only way to get through is to face it. I’ve learned that my methods were failing me in an epic fashion.

Suffering from something like PTSD does not mean that I can’t function in society. There are many who never even knew all of the problems that I was struggling with. I was good at keeping them hidden. Using the tools that the counselor brings to the table are key in getting through the rest of your life intact. I have stretches where I don’t need to see Amy at all, and I’m able to function just fine. The unfortunate part is that there can be things that trigger you. While we get triggered all the time, there are some things that trigger a deep feeling, or emotion and it can be paralyzing. I’ll share one particular event where I was having a discussion with this person and we were discussing schooling – growing up on different sides of town as well as being poor. He started to rail against poor people. Stating that the only thing that holds them back is their own laziness. “Pull up your bootstraps and work.” That was his approach and world view. I could feel myself getting hostile, and starting to look for a “target” on him that I wanted to strike first. I could feel all of the shame that I felt as a child going without, having to hustle to stay alive. To sit there and have someone tell me that the reason for it was strictly my own doing, well that wasn’t sitting too well with me. I first gave warning for him to step away because he was in “my space.” At that point I let him know that because of his privileges of coming from a well to do family, and never having to worry about clothing, food, heat, etc. that he couldn’t possibly understand. “Walk a fucking mile in my shoes!” That was the next thing that came out. I knew that this was not going to end well if I stayed in close proximity with this guy and was wise enough to leave. I had been triggered, and triggered so badly that I needed to actually contact Amy and ask that we talk on the phone. I needed someone to calm me so that I didn’t do what I had already been doing in my head while this conversation was going on. He has no idea how close he came to seeing the dark wolf.

So, this brings me to my past. Be sure that I have no desire to sit and stare at it. I’ve learned that it’s the past and it needs to stay there. Why do I talk about this so much then? Well, it’s because the past has a way of reminding you that even though you don’t look back, it’s still there. The damage that has been caused by the past is the problem. It’s not that I want to live all of it over and over again. I need to know that I can still hold the line when the darkness comes knocking. The only way to do that is to properly identify the trauma’s root cause and work it out. It’s messy, but it’s necessary. These stories that I share are also a way of “cleansing” me. I feel that there are things that need to be said in order for me to be able to sleep again. I also share them so that others who have problems will understand that while they may be broken, there are tools waiting to be used that can help you. It’s painful to hold on to such awful darkness and not be able to share it. Our brains have a way of regurgitating the same scenarios over and over until we sometimes feel insane. We need the help from an outside person to give a different perspective, and then gently place it back into the box. This is not something that I asked for, it happened and I’m dealing with it now.

For those who may not understand others who suffer from trauma. Just know that when you say things like, “it’s in the past, you’re not there anymore”, or “you’ll be fine”, it’s doing a disservice to the person you’re speaking to. Try to remember that none of us asked for this. It happened, and we’re doing the very best we can just to survive. Try to have empathy and understanding. We don’t require special treatment from you, but we do want you to know that if we could go back and change whatever the event(s) were, we’d have done it by now. Remember to walk a mile in another person’s shoes, you just may find you don’t care for the way they fit. With that, I digress…

Thank you so much for taking the time to read my stories.

~Robert~

Beautifully Broken

October 18, 2024October 18, 2024 / Zombie / Leave a comment

“Everyone could use a little counseling.” Words that I often share when having discussions with friends or co-workers. Might sound cliché but it’s true. Being human means that we’re flawed, and raised by others that were also flawed themselves. It’s a strange kind of merry-go-round that we can’t seem to ever get off. The best that we can hope for, is to get a better understanding of who we are and what has hurt us. Come along with me and we’ll take a look back.

The past life. This is a reference that I’ve used in many of my blogs. During my upbringing, I crossed paths with another human that took me under wing to show me how to have a “better life.” That was the way it was billed. A better life sounded great! I was a poor kid from the wrong side of the tracks, raised by parents that did their best at the time to provide a decent life. We unfortunately struggled with the necessities to get by. Keeping a place to stay was the main focus, and that was troublesome at points throughout my life. Food, heat, clothing were luxuries. When things were going good for my father with work, we ate pretty good. During those times, it’s almost like we couldn’t stop eating because we were worried that we’d be without again. Hiding snacks was a thing in the home. I’d keep small bags of food hidden away in my bedroom so that when the food was not as plentiful, I’d still have something. The heat and lights would get turned off on occasion because a bill didn’t get paid, but we found ways to get by. Let me point out that I’m not trying to put my parents down, they were just not well equipped to handle many of life’s struggles. Going back through this just gives you a better picture as to why I strayed into the Lion’s den.

The human that wanted to give me a better life was a friend of my fathers. My father knew nothing of the arrangement that I’d make with this man, and I’d hoped that he’d never find out. The idea of getting ahead and making some money sounded like an ideal situation. It started out slowly. I was being taught how to see the world. I refer to this at times as being “groomed.” I was paid to sit at one of his establishments and watch everything going on. He’d occasionally walk by me and ask a question about something going on in the bar. “Do you see that guy over there, what’s he wearing?” “What brand cigarettes is the girl at the bar smoking?” Small things that would turn into bigger things. He was all about being an expert voyeur. He would tell me all the time that it was good to be quiet. Quiet breeds strength and power. At the time it made little sense, but as I aged, it meant everything. The steps that followed would be much darker, and would involve harming others. I will say this. I learned quickly that drugs in our community are by far the darkest, ugliest vice. People will say, or do anything to reach whatever high they’re seeking. These eyes have seen much and I have no way to erase it.

Dipping my toe back into these stories always makes me nervous. I feel as though there’s always someone lurking, watching, studying me and my habits. It’s because of this time in my life that I became such a light sleeper. I’ve also struggled with insomnia for many years. That, accompanied with reoccurring nightmares that would always be the same. I knew the story line by heart. It was as if I was watching it on a television or from above while it was going on. The sound of a hissing female voice in my ear telling me that they were in my house and wanted to know where all of my “stuff” was at. It gives me goose bumps just talking about it now. It was as if Medusa herself was speaking to me. I’d usually wake myself up about this time and realize that I’d been having “my dream”, but always felt very unsettled. Enough so that I’d have to get up out of bed and check all of the doors and windows in the house. If I felt bad enough, I’d go outside and do a full perimeter check of the property. Yes, it was always that bad, or at least it felt that way to me. These are the kinds of things that stay with you. The damage that comes from years of paying attention to every detail. Being the professional voyeur.

There are so many stories yet to tell and I’m doing my best to get them all out before I expire! While there are things I’d like to share, I’m not at a level of comfort to just blurt all of it out yet. Many of these things happened in my home town. They happened while going to school, being a kid, trying to fit into groups of society. Trying to be normal and yet, keeping secrets that could never be shared with even my closest of friends or family members. Sharing secrets is crossing the line, and crossing the line means you don’t go home again. I see things as black and white, life or death. There is no other way to view it in my eyes. This is damage, this is trauma and I’m working on getting that squared away.

I share my blogs with family and friends pretty regularly. One person in particular gets what I’m saying. My cousin suffers from PTSD as well. He too is a work in progress and struggles at times. He has moments of clarity and then can be triggered and has to find his way back. One of the things we talked about recently was the fact that we both struggle in much the same way, but never knew it. Our family has all kinds of history, some of which I’ve discussed in my writing. We were kept apart for much of our lives growing up. As adults, it just seemed odd to even attempt to make a relationship with people you didn’t even know or were told incorrect things about. We’ve been working on our relationship now and going over our new found similarities. Another small tidbit with this, he comes from the law enforcement field. That’s where a good part of his trauma stems from. Oddly enough, mine comes from the underworld. Cop and Criminal united in a cause. We both speak openly now about PTSD and the stigma that follows mental health. It’s something that means much to both of us. I feel at ease being around him. While we both have our insecurities, we have the understanding of what it’s like to be broken, and broken badly.

So, could we all use a counselor in our lives? Absolutely! While I’ve been going back over my stories and clearing out my brain. I’ve found that I share so much more with so many. While there’s a sadness to that, it’s also a very good thing. I want to reach people that sit in the darkness and wonder where they’re going to turn to. The ones that have been questioning whether to make a phone call to a counselor or speak to a family member about how they’re feeling. There’s a level of brokenness in all of us. There’s no room for judgment in that. If someone speaks with me now, I don’t try to tell them that my trauma is worse than theirs. It’s not my place to evaluate someone else’s feelings. If you’re hurting, that’s what matters. My cousin and I can both tell you that there were so many times that we felt alone, alienated from the world. No one should have to go through that. Self isolation is the absolute worst thing you can ever do…period! You can have your moments of silent reflection, or mediation. Isolating yourself and everything you have all into one compartment is a very bad way to walk this earth.

I’m going to keep working on myself, and I’ll keep trying to write as much of my story as I can get out. There are spots that I’ll probably leave redacted for my own health and safety. I want all of you to think of your story. If you ever want to share with me, I’ll listen. No judgment ever. If you ever feel that you want your story told and would like me to add it onto this blog, I’d be honored to do so. I can leave everything very anonymous and just tell the story as the voyeur that I am. You never know, you just might catch someone’s attention and make a difference in their life.

I was telling a co-worker the other night that I try to write in such a way that I don’t harm anyone. I’ve harmed enough in my life. I’m trying to be a better version of myself moving forward. The idea now is to tell the stories, make myself feel better, and hopefully reach others so that they too can find light in all the darkness. We’re all Beautifully Broken creatures after all.

As always, thank you for reading and following my work.

~Robert~

The Intersection of Mental Health and Truth: My Journey

October 8, 2024October 8, 2024 / Zombie / Leave a comment

I totally understand why anyone that struggles with any kind of mental illness doesn’t want to talk about it. Why they don’t want “others” to know. Once you do, once the genie is out of the bottle, you can’t put it back in. That leaves you vulnerable to judgment by those that don’t understand, or just don’t care to understand. It’s taken years to get to the point that I’m at now, but don’t think that because I blog about my issues that it makes everything o.k.

Some might think that what I write about is brave, or that it gives them a better perspective on the rest of the world outside of their own. There are some that think the topics I touch on are too taboo. They feel that what I speak about is “too much”. That perhaps I’d be better served keeping this to myself, or dialing it down. The very reason I started touching on the topic of mental health is because it does reach everyone. There are just some that refuse to believe that they might struggle themselves. That perhaps they have their own secrets.

Since I’ve started this direction of writing. I’ve had some very positive responses, and have found it’s opened a door for others to explore their own world. That is thrilling to me! I love that perhaps the pain I’ve carried can somehow be of service in the long run. Then there’s the uneasy feeling that when I’ve written something that I’m looked upon differently. A certain sympathy look, or perhaps a look of being dismissed because they know that “you’re not well”. I feel it, trust me.

One of the things that is the most bothersome to me, is when my word is questioned. Growing up with nothing made me painfully aware that the only thing that I do have is my voice. Along with my voice is my memory and the ability to recall anything. As I’ve stated before, I’ve been “trained” to pay attention to details. Why? Because details matter. This is something that I’ve lived by for the better part of my life. Recently I went through an event that challenged all of this. I felt for a minute like I was truly going crazy, that everything I knew to be right, was now wrong.

“How important is it to be right.” This question was posed to me years ago by my sponsor. My answer at that time was, it’s everything. While I may not always voice my opposition, in my brain I know what’s right. I may not challenge the person, or persons at the time, but I’ve already begun my process into evaluating the situation. I also begin to evaluate the person, or persons that are involved. This again, is something that I’ve done for so long, that it’s second nature. In different circumstances, with less savory people, evaluating improperly can cost you everything.

This all then brings trust into question. My evaluation process lets me know what level I can trust a person. If some are willing to blindly follow and never question, I look at them as a “mark”. I align myself with those that have proven to be strong, question things and seek truth. There’s an intersection between the speaking about mental health and truth. I pass through this intersection on a daily basis. I work in an environment that is painful to who and what I am. I feel alone and singled out at times. I’ve been working on making peace with that, but it’s truly a struggle. When you use your voice and know your truth, and it falls on deaf ears, or is discarded, you’re left to question your place in the world. I’m not one for folding up and walking away, so it usually brings about hostility. My anger and hostility is, and will continue to be my main focus with my counselor. I don’t want to feel this way, yet find myself falling into this comfort trap.

Here’s what I’m looking for with this blog. I want everyone to understand that I may be broken, yes, I have damage that needs care. It doesn’t make me less than. It doesn’t mean that I can’t function within society. I don’t want pity. All that I want is what everyone should want, to be heard, to be seen. The other thing is that there are those of us out there that have experienced trauma that perhaps has made us keenly aware of things that others wouldn’t bother to pay attention to. We see the things that others don’t. I was trying to explain this to a co-worker recently. I stated that it’s a curse, and a blessing at the same time. I wish that I’d never gone through the things that I did, but I can’t change that. I can however take the strengths that it has given me and use them appropriately. The positive that came from the negative. I also want to be clear that I’m not perfect, but a truth seeker.

When you’re around me, when you’re speaking with me, know that I’m very genuine. I speak truth, always. The only thing that I have to offer in this world is my voice. The question is, are you willing to hear my voice?

Thanks so much for reading.

~Robert~

The zombie file

Life seen through the eyes of Zombie

healing

Why It’s Okay to Cry: Lessons from Childhood Trauma

Understanding Trauma

Beautifully Broken

The Intersection of Mental Health and Truth: My Journey