Reading Myself to Sleep

ca.thar.sis (n)

1) the purging of emotions or relieving of emotional tensions, especially through certain kinds of art, such as tragedy or music
2) discharge of pent-up emotions so as to result in the alleviation of symptoms or the permanent relief of the condition

As a child, I could be driven to tears fairly easily. I got angry, I cried. Scared, I cried. Lonely, sick, hungry, embarrassed ... all led to tears. As an adult, I am sad to say that I did not grow out of this. I got better at putting the tears on hold until I was alone (sometimes) but I still cried very easily. I hated that about myself. It made me feel weak, and vulnerable, and pathetic. Especially since I was usually crying about things that were petty and insignificant anyway.

It's not until you lose the ability to cry altogether that you realize just how wonderful it is to let it all out. Lately, I have gotten so good at holding everything in that now, I can't cry even when I want to. I am keeping myself so together that even when I want nothing more than to let it all go, it is physically impossible.

And so, on the nights when I wish I could just cry myself to sleep (which is honestly always the deepest of sleeps) instead, I read myself to sleep. I find solace in words, and I throw myself with wild abandon into somebody else's world. But there is no catharsis for me. No release of the pent-up emotions. They simply ease their way out a little at a time, like a slow leak in a tire.

An explosion would be so much better.