I like to Cry by the Ocean
Yea, you read that right...like I usually do, I'll explain it to you.
I like to cry by the Ocean.
I chuckled while writing that—not because my crying, most often howling if I go to the Ocean to do it, is funny but because I’ve only ever told one person about that and we were crying laughing when I shared, and still do every time it comes up.
And I love that.
I love that some of my saddest moments turned into one of my greatest and deepest laughs, a laugh that has lasted for years. And even now, when I find myself by the Ocean sobbing, I can chuckle thinking about that laugh.
I can’t remember what we were talking about that led me to share that I like to cry by the Ocean.
It had to have been something about self-care or how to get through heartache or hard moments. And I just started rolling into sharing how one winter when I lived in Newport, RI, I was depressed and knew I needed to get out of the house, so I drove to shore drive and sat in my car in front of the Ocean.
It was wintertime and stormy, so the Ocean was raging against the rocks and the shore. The perfect energy for my mood. Because as I cried, deep in my heartache, I felt my own rage building—that kind of rage that can only come from a heart bruised and battered.
You know it if you know it.
Again, it wasn’t funny at the time, by any means. However, when I was retelling the moment, all I could think about was if someone might have seen me in my car just crying my poor little heart all the way out. They would have had every right to be concerned, and this would have been a beyond appropriate time for secondhand embarrassment.
When I shared that part, we both started laughing and crying, that kind of laugh that is so cleansing—releasing energy you didn’t know you needed to clear out and leaving you feeling lighter and fuller at the same time.
To this day, if we see that the other was alone at the beach through social media or send each other a picture of a solo visit to the beach, we’ll text, “Girl, were you crying?!?!?!” And regardless of whether or not we were, we have a good ol’ laugh about it.
I’m glad I told my friend about it because she started going to the Ocean to cry when she needed to. And we both agree it is comforting and cleansing because it feels as if the Ocean understands.
I wrote a poem about that first time in Newport, RI, when I sat by the Ocean and cried and raged with her. The first two lines in the poem came to me as I sat there crying.
Here’s that poem:
I went and sat by the Ocean,so she could catch my tears.She knows of things lost andthe hope of lost things found.She is filled withrage, destructioncalm, stillnessand ever-present restlessness.I went to the Ocean knowing she would understand.
What do you feel when you sit by the Ocean?
Can I share something with you?
I’m going to assume, and hope, you said, “Yes.”
When I first started this publication, I was really excited about it.
Then I started putting so much pressure on myself to write weekly and make sure it was profound and thought-provoking. Writing quickly became something I felt I had to do instead of something I was looking forward to doing every week.
And then I wrote Bonus: It’s Raining So I’m Writing, and your response to it was heartwarming and caught my attention. I felt no pressure when I wrote that; I wrote what was on my mind with no real purpose or point to it, simply to share.
It is my top newsletter still to this day.
I still pressed on after that, though, with the pressure to produce. Then I wrote my Grandma harnessed the taste of the Sun. Another newsletter with no real purpose or point to it, I led simply with my desire to share my thoughts and memories about my Grandma Floyd.
Another one that struck a chord with you.
I appreciate you. I really do. Thank you for helping me find my way as a writer, meeting me here every Thursday, and when bonuses come out, bringing me back to what initially brought me here to start with—
the desire to simply share my poetry and my thoughts.
I’ll see you here next Thursday.
All my love—truly,