The Heartbreaking Strength of Not Crying for Two Months

“I haven't cried in two months — not because I didn’t want to… but because there’s a tube in my nose.”

Living with chronic illness comes with a million hidden griefs, but this one has surprised even me: I haven’t cried in two months. Not because I’m fine. Not because I haven’t needed to. But because I have a feeding tube in my nose, and crying just… isn’t an option right now.

The Art of Turning Off Emotion

It’s sad how good I’ve become at it — shutting down my emotions, turning off the tears before they start.

The feelings rise up like a wave, and I put them back in the box before they break the surface. It’s like muscle memory now.

I’ve welled up a few times. Had that tightness in my chest. That lump in my throat. But I stop it before it turns into anything real — because I don’t want to find out what it feels like to cry with a tube in my face.

When the Emotional Box Gets Full

It’s not just about not crying — it’s about what happens when you can't.

When the emotional pressure builds and there’s no release valve.

Some days, I feel the box inside my head getting too full. I haven’t broken down… yet. But I start to worry — what if something small is all it takes? What if I reach a tipping point I can’t stop?

Drawing Through It

So I draw.

If you’ve seen my artwork, you’ve seen the grief in it. The chaos. The numbness. The weight. My drawings have become the space where the feelings are allowed to go — because if I can’t cry, I have to find somewhere for the emotions to live.

Some days, it helps. Other days, I still feel full. Pressurized. Like I’m trying to paint a scream I’m not allowed to let out.

Crying as a Healing Mechanism

I wouldn’t say I miss crying. Not exactly.

It’s more that I know I’ve blocked it — and I know what happens when you block anything that hard. It bottles up. It lingers. It waits.

Crying, when it’s safe and possible, has always been a release valve. A reset. That post-cry dopamine hit — the way your body softens, your breath steadies, your heart says, “thank you for feeling that” — I know what that’s like. And I know I haven’t had it in a long time.

And I also know: you can only go so long without letting something out before it demands a way through.

If You’ve Never Had to Think About This…

If you’ve never had to think about what it’s like to not be able to cry — I want you to understand how much that takes.

How much someone has to go through — physically and emotionally — before the body learns to override something so human.

I’ve stopped myself from crying at funerals. I’ve chosen to be the person holding others up instead of falling apart myself. Not because I didn’t feel it, but because I felt like someone had to stay grounded when the room felt like it was falling apart.

That’s what it’s like sometimes — being strong in moments where you really just want to collapse. And now, with a tube in my face and emotions stacked inside me like fragile glass, I realize just how heavy that strength can become.

I’ll Cry Again Someday