Crying gets a bad wrap. Directly after a good cry, I have a modicum of clarity. Lightness, relief...it's an essential part of healing. I encourage you to experiment with some of the practical tips below.
If you’ve ever woken up looking more like a gerbil than a human, puff-faced, red-eyed and dehydrated beyond belief, you are in need of a crying makeover. For extended cries, make sure to keep a Nalgene 32-oz full of water handy — work that thing like a lifeline. Next, make sure to put plenty of moisturizer under and around your eyes throughout the day and before bed. That shit works wonders.
I also like taking a special cry pose. If I’m home it’s easy: I get down on my hands and knees (think yoga cat pose) and cry as hard as I can with my face toward the floor. Something about this feels safe and grounding. I’m able to breathe freely. Bonus: my dog will be called to duty and curl up under me, turning my body into a trembling house for him. I appreciate both the eye contact and human/dog language barrier…uncomplicated love.
Home is best for the obvious reason of privacy, but home is also a hot-water bath, and cold washcloths for after. When I emote from home I can sit on the kitchen floor and cry until I feel relatively fine, get up and then wash the dishes 1,000 pounds lighter.
If I happen to be in public, and believe me it’s happened plenty of times, I prefer to be on the subway. Every-living-soul in New York for longer than 6 months has cried on the subway. It’s practically a requirement of living in the city. In my experience other city dwellers will leave you alone — maybe give you a sympathetic smile — they've been that person too.
Exercise class is also a great cry spot. At the end of the workout the lights are low and everyone is already sweating so no one gives you much notice.
But of course, the shower is the unrivaled crying location. Private, warm and cozy. It has a sense of safety and containment that is first-rate!