The gates are open

I’m not sure what’s been happening to me recently, but I’ve been crying a lot.
I’m not a crier - not out of sadness, at least. I can count on one hand the times I’ve cried out of pure desperation: at my Grandma’s funeral, at my other Grandma’s funeral, and throughout the entirety of the film Nebraska.
Movies are mostly what makes me tear up out of sadness. (And planes. I don’t know what it is about planes, but flight attendants have seen me at my worst more than my best friends.)
In real life thought, when I cry it’s normally out of frustration. Not even anger - I hardly ever get angry - but if I’m upset, or stressed, or anxious, that’s when the gates open.
Having said that, crying is not my most immediate response to those feelings. I would rather channel them into writing, or drawing, or lying on the floor.
I’ve been doing all those things a lot recently, as my life has been overwhelming to say the least in the past few months. However, for some reason mysterious to me, my tear ducts have been working extra time as well.
In the past two weeks alone, I’ve cried in the following places:

• On the street

• On the bus

• In the woods

• In someone’s arms

• After therapy

• In the toilet at work

• Standing in the middle of my room

• Reading Sea of Strangers

• At the cinema

• In the middle of sex

Crying feels so good though. Sometimes it’s so needed. Necessary. 
After a good cry, with proper sobbing and a snotty nose, I feel so done. It’s the same kind of satisfaction I get after a long hike, when you get to sit down and your legs feel light and kinda floaty. 
So I’m not mad about it I guess. It’s just another outlet that I’m getting used to. 
And it doesn’t mean I’m falling to pieces. I’ve always been very much in touch with my emotions and I’ve been learning how important it is to embrace them and accept them as they come and go. 
Sometimes you just need a good cry, and that’s fine. 
I always feel better after that.