(With apologies to Jeff Green for the gratuitous use of “Feels”.)
I was going to write something positive and happy today as a counterpoint to 1) yesterday’s post and 2) the amount of anger that has been circulating on the Internet yet again today, this time as a result of an ill-conceived PR stunt by Square Enix. I’m not going to get into that now, because everyone yelling about it is already getting very tiresome. But I decided there was something else I wanted to discuss instead.
Instead I wanted to talk a bit about something which started up during the course of the last month — the Take This project, an attempt by a bunch of games industry professionals (including my good self) to do something positive about the stigma surrounding depression, anxiety and other mental health issues. Over at the site, numerous people are sharing their stories of their experiences with these issues in an attempt to encourage others to do the same, and to help people realise that they’re not alone with the feelings they might be experiencing. Here’s my contribution — more will probably follow in the near future.
I may well post something along these lines over on Take This at some point in the near future, but for now I thought I’d share it here.
I wanted to talk a bit about crying.
If you see someone else crying, chances are you’ll start feeling pretty shitty too. It’s not a nice thing to watch, particularly if you don’t know what caused it. There’s that air of immense awkwardness around the situation, particularly if a stranger’s involved, where you’re not quite sure if you’re “allowed” to talk to the person and see if you can help with what they’re upset about, and generally the whole thing is something most people like to avoid whenever possible. There’s also an element of gender stereotyping that comes into play, too, where it’s somehow “more okay” for women to cry than men. (I don’t agree with this at all, but “big boys don’t cry” is still a real stigma that stops many men from effectively expressing their emotions.)
But consider how that person who is in tears is feeling. It’s sometimes difficult to judge from outside, because only the person who is crying knows exactly what they’re feeling. Crying isn’t always an unpleasant thing, either — sometimes it is a sweet release from pent-up emotion that has been bubbling away inside that person’s head. Of course, sometimes it is outright hysteria, too — a complete inability to deal with a particular situation and a desire to simply let rip with some absolutely raw emotion. Only the person who is crying knows, and they’re often not really in a position to talk about it while it’s happening.
Oddly, though — and this is where I might lose a few of you — sometimes it’s desirable or even enjoyable to cry. The feeling of being affected so profoundly by something that you actually want to weep is oddly intoxicating at times, and it can, at times, be outright pleasant.
It’s not as strange as it initially sounds, though. How else can you explain the fact that most forms of media boast a “tearjerker” genre or equivalent?
Most recently, I’ve been playing a visual novel called Kana Little Sister, which I talk about in greater detail over on Games Are Evil here. Kana is described as an “utsuge” — a “depression game”, or a title that is specifically designed to elicit “negative” (for want of a better word) emotions in its audience, in this case sadness. (Other examples include Silent Hill 2, which evokes reactions ranging from slumping back in one’s chair and sighing to crying bitter, bitter tears.) I have played through Kana five times now, and even though you know from the very outset that the titular little sister character is going to die at the end (spoiler: except in one ending), it still gets me every time, and the tears fall without fail.
This doesn’t make me feel bad, though. It’s a perversely enjoyable experience. I like responding to something in this way. I like the feeling of being overtaken by emotion and being physically affected by a work. It’s an impressive mark of how much something has engaged me fully if it can make me cry — or if, for that matter, it can make my pulse race, or generate that hard-to-define feeling of “butterflies in the stomach” that a good, epic final confrontation in something like an RPG can sometimes manage.
Even now, though, as open as I generally am about this sort of thing, there’s still a slight feeling of embarrassment when it happens. It’s perhaps because when you cry, you’re making yourself quite vulnerable. You’re “letting go”, turning off the safety switches that let you behave “normally” in polite society without breaking down into tears every five seconds. If you do it around someone else, you’re showing a great deal of trust in them — trust that they won’t laugh at you for having emotions in the first place, and trust that they won’t think any less of you in the future because of your reaction.
Basically, I think what I’m saying is that you shouldn’t be afraid to cry — regardless of whether you need to or just want to. So, you know, let it out.
