Big Girls DO Cry

Submitted by Tracy

Four years ago, I tore my left ACL and didn’t cry once. Not at the time of injury, not during surgery, and not during the 6 grueling weeks on crutches after. Six weeks ago, I tore my right ACL. And the waterworks haven’t been turned off since.

I grew up on a cattle ranch in North Dakota, with a brother, and all boy cousins, who, if they caught you crying, would just push you down in the mud again. So I didn’t cry, instead I put on a game face. I was a tough, tom boy, farm girl, to the T.   I remember holding back tears during high school basketball injuries, huge game losses, sad movies, and tearful good byes. I thought being a strong girl meant not letting anyone see you break down, and it was best to hold your crying in. So, for so long, I bottled all my tears.

But, after so much bottling, one can only expect that the bottle is going to burst. And it did, right about the age of 28 for me. Last summer I bawled about a misspelled tattoo on my body, and a breakup with a boyfriend. My friends didn’t know what to do with me–the one girl that never cried. And I didn’t really know what to do with myself. I decided that one of the safest places to cry, after your friends had seen you do it so much, is in the shower. I thought had I had washed all the tears down the drain for quite some time.

Then I had a work accident 6 weeks ago, and tore my other ACL, my LAST GOOD ACL. I felt like I got hit by an emotional freight train. Having been through it before, and knowing what lie ahead of me, I couldn’t even begin to try and stop the tears. Again, my friends, roommates, and boyfriend hung by my side and were there to comfort me during seven hours of crying that first night. And they were there for me when I cried for pain a few days after. Heck, I even woke up out of surgery crying. And then I cried because my trip to Nepal in October had to be cancelled. I wailed so hard for that one, that I scared my own dog, the one I could always cry to, out of the room.

Finally, this past weekend, I dropped my boyfriend and my dog off at the trailhead for a three day backpack trip. I felt those familiar salty streams run down my cheek one last time for this knee, in sadness that I couldn’t accompany them on their adventure.

So, you see, big girls DO cry. We let it out, and we feel better after. We give thanks to all the special souls in our lives that let us cry on their shoulder. And then we dry our cheeks, wipe away the last tears, and start planning the future. Those backpack trips, those powder days, those singletracks, and those summits who are still calling our name.