Males are taught, mostly by their fathers, not to show emotion. At least in Western Culture that's the paradigm. I don't remember my father crying much, the rare occasions that I did were important and I remember them vividly. The day John Lennon died in December 1980 was one such moment.
I've cried a lot over the last year. Over a great many things. My marriage, my being alone, the emotions that come over me when watching something particularly filled with gravitas on TV, and sometimes just being with my beautiful daughter makes me cry.
I've been thinking about death a lot this year. Sometimes wishing it would come to me to end this cycle of pain. I won't lie, I wanted to die on more than one occasion this year. I thought about killing myself. I planned on how to do it. But I didn't go beyond that. I have a lot to live for. I have a daughter who relies on me to be her Daddy, and I want to see her grow up. I couldn't take my own life and cause the huge amount of emotional pain to my loved ones.
My path is not clear. But it certainly seems to be better than the alternative. So I sally forth.
Really I'm OK.
I'm hanging in.