I’m not much of a crier. Or, I wasn’t much of a crier until I was in my 3rd trimester of pregnancy and I started crying over episodes of Junior Masterchef.
I can count the number of movies I’ve cried in/over on one hand:
Dead Man Walking — which semi-counts because I forced myself to cry by picturing myself in Sean Penn’s position but also doesn’t really count at all. I had been dared to make myself cry because I never cried. Let’s count it anyway.
Star Wars: The Force Awakens — this one is still too raw. No I don’t want to talk about it.
Jurassic Park: Fallen Kingdom — the dinosaur’s sound as the boat leaves and the lava engulfs the remaining. No.
Marley and Me — while I never finished watching the movie I still cried in it. And for about sixty seven hours afterward. No. Never finishing it. Not happening.
It: Chapter Two — I knew what was coming because I’d seen the Tim Curry version as a teen but I was not prepared for my future Husband to die. No, not the actor playing Pennywise. Actual Pennywise. He’s so cute! He just wants friends. He doesn’t know what to do to be less mean and, really, he has to eat you. Stop being so dramatic.
We could also count that mental breakdown I had after watching Jarhead but I refuse to count movies that trigger my anxiety. I’m only counting movies that genuinely make me cry. Maybe that’s cheating but I don’t care. I’m counting what I’m counting and I refuse to count war movies.
My personality has indeed softened as I’ve gotten older. I’m less guarded. I care less about what people think of me. I spend hours bawling over Australian Ninja Warrior now because I am just so darn proud of them. Also, it helps the wounded child in me to see parents be proud of their child’s achievements. Like, that’s the way life is supposed to be. We should all cheer for everyone - strangers and friends alike. And, I guess, seeing that in real-time is uplifting and makes me feel all sorts of happiness.
Anyway, I’m not really sure what the point of this is. Is it crying over movies? Happy crying? Crying in general? Pennywise being so darn adorable. I’m not sure…
I guess, though, that opening yourself up to crying, and being comfortable crying, is really wonderful. I cried on a walk the other day and the only thing I regret about it is the sunscreen stinging my eyes. I cried over Han in the cinema three times and after the movie was finished I went and cried in a public restroom. And then, until the next film was released, I cried and hoped some more that we didn’t see his body so he couldn’t possibly be dead.
Does having children open us up to feeling more? Or does becoming entirely comfortable in your own skin, and in the person you are, make you more open to random bouts of happy and sad tears? Or, were the movies listed up above so truly damaging to the soul, especially the Han Solo of it all, that I’m normal and overthinking everything once again?