In the thick darkness of the cinema, next to my two sons, amidst the sounds of popcorn munching and sipping drinks through straws, I found myself trying to stop the flow of tears from my eyes and silence the exaggerated sobbing noises from my throat, all because of a completely fictional scene in a children's cartoon.
This embarrassing moment already happened the last time we watched a movie together, and truth is, it happens almost every time I watch a cartoon. What is it about these movies that pounds my emotions like a 200-pound hammer, while the reality around me - a particularly jarring and emotional movie - fails to get more than a rare and fleeting tear from me, even in the most difficult moments? Actually, the better question is, what happened that turned me into a numb human machine, and is there any hope for me?
A radish in a white dress
First, I must confess: I don't know how to cry. I don't know how to feel painful emotions and express them in the usual way. For as long as I can remember, I've seen it as a physical deficiency that requires treatment. My husband, Raziel, may he rest in peace, had a few tears to shed here and there. Quite a few. I remember more than once when Raziel spoke, performed a Brit Milah somewhere, lifted one of our children up, or even read from the Torah, and suddenly, almost as if scripted and rehearsed, tears would flow from his eyes, turning the small moment into something touching or sad or heartwarming for everyone around him. In most of the pictures from our wedding, especially those from the Chuppah, Raziel's eyes are red, with a huge smile is plastered on his face, and next to him is me, a radish with makeup in a white dress.
Of course, that's not what killed him. Of course, I was jealous to the core (even today!). Of course, there were times when it happened, and I wanted to run away from him out of embarrassment or anger or something else that masked my amazement at how easily he opened his heart, while the impenetrable iceberg that I am could barely pluck a single string in my heart.
Even when he was murdered and I managed to cry here and there, too often, I had to dig into my heart for hours on end just to uncover even a little of that hidden well that hides all my tears. Instead, I often preferred to simply write, to make others cry for us on my behalf, and to use silly cartoons to perform this task and make me sob as a grieving widow should do day and night.
Since the outbreak of the war, I can count on one hand how many times I actually cried. Unfortunately, they do not at all reflect my extensive and overly close exposure to painful stories and events. Even my daily interactions with war widows, hearing their stories, sitting beside them and other bereaved families during shiva, did not change this matter for me.
As time goes on, I notice that almost every emotional state I had has slowly shut down. Until now, it was only my ability to cry, but it turns out that even my ability to feel joy and excitement has almost completely dulled. And so, even my ability to really get angry and lose control. Believe me, as a mother of six children, including teenagers during summer vacation, I have no shortage of reasons for losing control and explosive anger.
Trigger warning
To preserve some of my dignity, I won't expose my inability to feel and express love. Contrary to expectations, extreme emotional situations over time, like war, captives, and bereavement, have not only not made me more sensitive but have also caused me to lose all ability to truly express and feel.
And so, just before I concluding my self diagnosis as a sophisticated AI device, with some human features and a big lack of everything else, I watched the character "Joy" from the movie "Inside Out" again. To be sure, I did some binge-watching of emotional scenes from previous animated movies and was surprised to find that this childish viewing remained almost my only trigger for expressing tears, sadness, and pain - a trigger that doesn't change, no matter how many times I watch them.
Really, Yael, really? A cartoon? And one you've seen before? Is this how you choose to cry as if your husband just died? Yes, I know. Embarrassing, weird, depressing, disappointing. Alongside the inevitable popular criticism, I allow myself to also be encouraged, reminding myself that nothing here is normal, that everything is crazy and strange, and that even the human structure, with all its refinements and capabilities, undergoes changes and redefines itself amidst all this madness.
I'm sure that when all of this comes to an end, and may it be soon, things will change for me too. These limited abilities will improve. Until then, I'll make sure to practice watching an emotional movie every once in a while to stay in crying shape, even if it's really embarrassing and weird.
