Crying in front of T

The crying thing is very interesting to me. I used to cry a lot, but I don't anymore; I haven't for years, really. My regular therapist has never seen me cry, I've never even come close to it with her, and she has told me that she sees no need to be concerned about me because I don't cry in our sessions and I don't talk about suicide.

I have come close with my uni therapist/mentor, but I shut it down. The interesting thing there is that this woman is worried about me for the exact same reason that my other therapist isn't - she worries about me because I keep everything inside. She's seen through me, which no one else has ever done before, so I can't hide from her like I hide from most other people, my regular therapist included.

I haven't really cried for years, because I'm all cried out. Crying never did me any good, either, it was just another reason to criticise me for being an inconvenience or whatever. It hardly ever resulted in any kind of sympathy. It was seen as weak or stupid, which I knew, but as an undiagnosed bipolar child/teenager I didn't have the tools to cope with my feelings, so eventually I'd explode and lash out in some way, and then I would get into trouble, and go back to bottling up my feelings, until it once again became too much for me to bear.

Anyway, I don't cry, and I have one therapist who sees this as a reason not to worry about me, and another therapist who does think it is something to be worried about. I'm very much used to the former, and overwhelmed by the latter; I'm not used to people worrying about me, nor do I think that anyone should.

I am a crier always have been. At home, with t, at work, in a store... I cannot hide my emotions. Especially from t.

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Sometimes I cry in front of my T. I cry a lot when I am alone, and sometimes even in public my emotions get the better with me. I cried in class last fall after someone I knew committed suicide. It was so embarrassing, but my prof knew about what had happened. We were doing an in-class assignment based on on videos we had to watch, but my prof told me I could go home and we would figure out how I could complete the assignment. One time in therapy I wasn't really crying, but my therapist noticed a couple of tears. She said, "You have little tears leaking out the side of your eyes," and then she gently wiped one away with her fingertip. I'd forgotten about that until now. No wonder I've developed such a strong transference to her.