Men don't cry, unless their bucket is full.

How do I share this subject with all of you without sounding like a real weenie? In our culture and especially in my Hispanic heritage, there has always been a contradiction that Latin men are supposed to be passionate and sensitive men, yet we are also not suppose to show our weaknesses by displaying tears. I remember as a child my mother trying to toughen me up to not be a wimp by telling me that "men don't cry" in the middle of some childhood drama I had probably created myself. Her intent was not to ridicule me, on the contrary, she wanted to make sure that I would not have to endure ridicule from others if my childhood tear streams would overflow in public. However, it seems clear to me today that no matter how noble her intent was, the "men don't cry" comment stayed ingrained in my mind making it amazingly embarrassing when I am not able to control my tears.

For me, the mental association of being an emotional person is tied to all sorts of fears and insecurities. Of course it is probably all in my mind, and somehow I doubt that I can change this. The fact is that unless you are constantly pouring your heart out on a daily basis in the middle of a dramatic tear driven emotional drama, most people, although uncomfortable with the moment, still understand that sometimes we just get choked up and can't help it. I guess frequency and level of drama are the key to keeping it all under check.

Throughout the years I have discovered that being a man is not about whether you are able to control your emotions when challenged to do so. It is more about stepping up to the plate when the moment comes and you have difficult tasks to achieve. Whether you have to take a moment and compose yourself before you do the hard deed, that is irrelevant to the extent of your manhood. Not allowing yourself to feel would be just as dumb as taking action only based on emotion. Both mind and heart have a dance to perform together, and if only one of them show up, it just looks silly.

Yet the insecurities are there and the simple confession that I am an emotional type of person and that sometimes I just break down and cry (mostly in private) brings images in my mind of many of you being disappointed in me to extent of even not wanting to read any more of my blog. However, what would be the point of lying? It is obvious that tears are expected from most of us no matter how tough we are because that little switch that we have built throughout the years to block the level of emotion that triggers our eyes to swell up and release their salty liquid sometimes has a mind of it's own and you just can't control it.

So here it is, even though I am no longer a child and I don't flip upside down on the floor an throw tantrums into the air, I still have moments in which I am not able to control my emotions and I cry. Control, there is that word again, revealing it's ugly head to prove to me that it is short on demand with my abilities to persuade my child to do the right thing, and now to even persuade my own heart not to feel sad.

Maybe it is all about levels. In other words, how full our cup is of pain or distress when something else is poured into it. Which brings me to the purpose of this post. I believe that when we are children what we have is an imaginary cup which can easily be filled or emptied out with all sorts of emotions. Too many sad ones and it overflows and we cry, enough of the happy ones and again it pours over and we laugh and smile. Throughout the years our cup grows in size until eventually it becomes a bucket. All of us adults have this invisible bucket that resides somewhere inside ourselves. Being bigger is the reason why it takes so much longer for it to spill over, but make no mistake about it, if enough of one type or other emotion is poured into the bucket...woosh!!!

I am a fortunate man. Even though life is constantly throwing at me a mirage of hard to deal with situations with my children, life has also given me some wonderful people that pour love, friendship, and happiness into my bucket. Some of you are reading this blog right now and I want to thank you from the bottom of my heart. Without you I would be in a constant state of depression and despair. It is your smiles, your words of encouragement, your compassion, your affection, and your endless will to love me just the way I am, that allows me to be continue on day by day. I confess that my bucket might be overflowing with sadness because of how little I am able to breath between moments of frustration and worries, but it is also overflowing with your love.

Thank you,

Dad