EMO HEALTH: Tears, according to Jackie.

When I’m upset…I cry.  

Period.

            I’ve never been able to hold back tears, whether from grief, joy, fear, confrontation, stress, anger, irritation, laughter…   You name it, they flow.  It’s part of who “Jackie” is.  I gave up trying to suppress them, years ago. 

But if you hadn’t noticed, society doesn’t generally view tears as normal - even though they are absolutely normal and natural.  Tears have a purpose. 

Crying is literally a release of hormones and/or enzymes.  They contain stress hormones that need to be expelled, or enzymes that protect our eyes.  It is a necessary and healthy process that western civilization has frowned upon, and I am here to say, “Forget that!”

 If me pondering about societal norms is showing my age...no bigs.  I would hope that iGen-ers and Millennials embrace the free-flow of tears.  I consider myself quite evolved in this respect.  Age Schmage.

BTW, for the sake of this blog, I’m speaking more to the “stress hormone” kind of tears. 

Solitary FOR REAL

As hurricane Irma was downgraded to a 6o mph swirling tropical storm, blowing through the Atlanta area (where I currently reside), I was hunkered down in my house, working on records and evidence needed to hopefully procure legal representation for my brother, who’s been at the Oklahoma Forensic Center (OFC) in lovely Vinita, OK, since November 14, 2016 - awaiting competency for trial. 

I felt cooped up in my house, having battened down the hatches, gotten flashlights/batteries and candles at the ready, and having all devices fully charged in case of a power outage. 

When I have to spend most of my day working at this computer and copier, with mounds of paperwork, I usually step outside and trim a bush, or pull some weeds, or lie in the hammock and decompress for a few minutes, staring at the sky, and just …breathing.  Because I have that option.  I need those breaks to keep my head clear, and my heart from aching too much. 

Today I realized, even though I was feeling “trapped” in my house, head buried in ink cartridges and binders and flash-drives and sticky notes, I’m not for “real,” trapped.  For REAL trapped is what my dear brother had to endure for one hundred and eleven days last year.  That’s right: 111.  Over three and a half months in SECLUSION at David L. Moss, Tulsa County Jail, prior to being deemed incompetent and being sent for a new bout of forced drugging at the OFC/Vinita. 

Anyone that grew up in Oklahoma knows “Vinita” as the place they send “those” people.  Tell me I’m wrong.  Because, I remember thinking it myself, and hearing others talk, as I grew up.  Vinita is a dirty word in Oklahoma.  And, my brother having been sent there several times since 1991, Vinita has changed, but not for the better.  OFC used to be called Eastern State Hospital (ESH).  But if you hadn’t heard, there are no long-term hospitals any more.  I get that, but now there’s JAIL, instead.  Lovely.