Beside the occasional wind in my eyes or cutting of unions, I haven't cried since primary school. tried to recall the times I did and wrote them down here in no particular order:
When I was young me and my siblings where able to convince our parents to get a cat. We got one that was a newborn. It was aggressive, did not listen and constantly getting into fights with other cats and I truly loved it. I always found it difficult to connect to others, but this cat was magical. I loved her with all her idiosyncrasies, the way she scared certain family members, the way she was picking a fight with cats twice her size, the way she would come by my side and memorize the exact clues to determine when food and which food became available. The proud look she had when she came home with a dead bird and the time she ran towards us when she was lost and finally found our home. My parents where not so happy though and decided after a year or so to give it away. I could not phatom as to me it was a member of our family, not something you can just give away. I was holding it together when the woman came to pick her up. We had to put her in the transportation cage thingy. She hated that thing, knowing that we use it to bring her to the doctor. The last time we brought her in, was when she got neutered. It was though seeing her after that operation, she was like a zombie for a while, after which it seemed like half of her life energy got permanently removed. I don't think she ever fully recovered and I felt immense guilt over us doing that to her. When my parent tried to put her in the cage this time to give away, she was not having it. She was running around screeching. I never seen her so disturbed, hearing her make sounds I never heard before, I broke down. I cried while hearing her being hunted by my family members in the background. The lady that took her in had like dozen or so other cats. She promised she would send images of her, but I never got anything. She was never able to get along with other cats. I fear she did not manage to find her place there. I never really forgave my parents for this, nor do I think I ever can. My hope was to find her when I was grown and able to live alone, but unfortunately by now she would not be alive anyway. There not even a chance of offspring somewhere that could live on, her lineage has truly ended.
I had a couple of toys when I was young that I saw as alive. They where core to me. There was one I played with it almost daily at home. One day we got to bring our own toys to school. I brought this toy with me to school. The toy has a inflatable portion, that was lacking air. I went to the concierge and he tried to pump it. He mistakenly put the needle in the wrong place and pierced it. It deflated and it felt to me as death. I ran away from everyone and hid crouched behind a large open door in the corner, crying. Sometime later they went searching for me and found me. I still miss my green and orange friend.
There was this girl, I liked in primary school. During primary school I 'liked' in total 3 or 4 girls. This was the final on who I liked for the last two years. I say liked, because I got it in my mind from others that you can not love at that age, but I did, and now in my 30s I can say what I felt there was love, more intensely than at any other point in my life. I would try to grab this girl attention as any immature child would, by teasing her and sometimes ignoring her. I used to stand at a wall during breaks, on my own silently looking in front of me for the half hour which felt like an eternity back then. Not because I liked it, but just because once in a while she and her friend would come up to me and ask me what's wrong, and it was worth it to my brain at the time to stand there in silence for that shred of attention and worry she expressed towards me.
Anyway not sure if it was that, or just my overall demeanor but my parents got it their minds that there was something wrong with me. They asked to me come up to their room, and sit down. They said they know there is something that is making me sad, that my behaviour has changed recently. I honestly did not get what's wrong, I did not feel particularly sad or anything. They kept asking for me to say what it is. I suddenly started crying. I still did not want to say anything as I was not even sure what it was they wanted to know, but my crying made them even more worried. My father started saying if I didn't speak up know he would leave, he would go back to Morocco and leave the house. He was (fake) packing up stuff and going downstairs. My mother was saying stuff like you "you see what your doing? now he is leaving because you won't say what's wrong!" In the end I broke down and said that I'm in love. They asked if that's it? laughing about how that is no big deal. My mother even blurted our her name guessing correctly on her first try. Well not that difficult in retrospect to guess, she was called to school because I made that girl cry.. but that is a story for another time.
I get why they were worried. I could not imagine asking my child who recently seemed off what's wrong and they suddenly crying and just letting the issue go either. It could have been serious, from their vantage point I could have been abused or raped or worse I could have been gay. Glad they dodged a bullet there I guess. Not sure what the right method would be, but I don't think I will find the strat 'threatening to leave your kid and move abroad' in any parenting books soon.
I was playing soccer, somehow I ended up getting my hand hurt from the wall I believe. I played it off but then went behind a wall as it did really hurt. To of my friends came and I was angry with some random guy who I blamed for getting my hand hurt, I was tearing up, it really hurt. My friends calmed me down and I want back to playing soccer afterword's.
Around 10?, I had this action figure that was really important to me. The day I got it was special to me as it was the first time I was alone without my family. I got lost at a big event and browsed the shop myself. They apparently announced my name on the speakers as my parents where panicky searching for me, but I did not hear. When they found me I convinced them to by the action figure I saw. It along with 2 or 3 other toys I had where central to my youth. I truly loved this thing, to me it was alive. Then its leg suddenly broke off. I tried to fix it with tape which helped for a while, but it didn't hold. Sometime when the tape did not hold anymore, I sensed it slipping away from me and dying. The soul I had created for him was gone. I cried, I grieved. I prepared a box to put it in as a funeral. My family was making fun of me. They truly did not care how meaningful he was for me. They knew though, why wouldn't they even act or play along with this 'make believe' funeral? they did play along with my siblings equally unrealistic fantasies? They where constantly trying to reaffirm that it's was never alive, that it's not something I should throw a funeral for, its because they saw how much it hurt and that it was real to me.
I believe on that same day I lost my action figure, I was lying in bed, thinking about how much it hurt and how my family couldn't see it. I remember realizing: "I do not care if all of my family dies.." It was a painful realization at that age. All I cared about was the environment they provide. The roof over my head, the food. I do not care about their survival. I wouldn't want them to feel pain or anything but if tomorrow I was transported to a world without them I wouldn't care as long as my needs are provided for. I felt bad, or more like I wanted to feel bad and tried to force make myself cry. How can I care about my toys but not my family members? I am not sure if I eventually was able to produce tears, but that was the last time I remember crying.
Writing this I am not sure on the timeline of things. I sure that the last time I cried was with that realization, but that would mean it happened after the second entry which happened in my final 2 years in primary school, but I believe the action figure died earlier than that. Not sure. But it was all around 10 - 12 years old, pretty sure of that. Anyway Goodnight, Somi.