Why I Hate Crying in Front of People

Grief, resilience, and why privacy with tears can be just as healing as crying out loud

I’ve written about the importance of feeling before fixing, about not shutting down grief, about letting tears come. I still stand by all of that. But here’s a contradiction: I hate crying in front of people.

When you’re filled to the brim with emotion, it sounds easy to just “let it out,” right? Not for me.

I’ve had those moments where something hits and I know the tears are sitting right behind my eyes, waiting. And instead of letting them spill, I blink them away, finish the conversation, do what needs to be done and only hours later, or sometimes days later, they will come back when I am alone. My body finally ready to release them.

I don’t often share my tears in the moment. Is that unhealthy? Closed off? I believe it’s much simpler than that. Some people prefer to cry privately. That’s a choice.

When I talk to people about grief, many people say they don’t actually like crying in front of others. Usually they are talking about work environments, or places that don’t feel familiar. Some of us worry about being judged. Others worry about making people uncomfortable. But our selectivity, can also be about agency. Choosing when, where, and with whom we let that part of ourselves be seen is our personal choice and one is not better than the other.

Why Timing Matters

I once had a therapist who pushed me hard to cry in session. She was well-meaning, I’m sure. But I wasn’t ready. I didn’t feel safe enough in that space with her, to let go. The exercise I was doing didn’t feel right, and the persistence eroded fragile trust. We couldn’t seem to work it out. After several sessions of trying to “get me to let it out” I never went back.¹

That’s the danger of assuming tears are the only proof of honesty. Sometimes the most honest thing you can do is say, “Not here, not now.”

A friend of mine recently told me she hasn’t cried yet about the passing of a family member. She feels the void and grief lingering, but she doesn’t have the time to process it fully. Between work, parenting, family logistics, and sheer exhaustion she doesn’t have the space to collapse into those feelings. She knows it will come later, in her own way. That doesn’t make her cold or avoidant, but it does mean she is accepting when and how grief will happen, not on demand.

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When the World Pushes Us to Break

This is where I think about Good Will Hunting. If you don’t remember it, check out the famous scene where Robin Williams tells Matt Damon, “It’s not your fault.” Over and over again until Will finally breaks.

It’s powerful. Most of us know what it feels like to be pushed like that before we’re ready. And sometimes, just like Will, we resist with everything in us. Crying isn’t something you can force. If it comes, it comes. But if it doesn’t, that doesn’t mean you’re broken or dishonest. It’s entirely possible that you will cry when you’re ready, and maybe no one will be there to witness it. It will not diminish the tears or the emotions because you have done it your own way.

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Both Ways Are Valid

I’ve said before that grief needs space, that tears are part of healing. I believe that. But I also believe that refusing to cry in front of someone can be just as valid as letting it out.

What matters is whether the choice feels like yours.

If you want to cry on your friend’s shoulder—do it. If you want to hold it together in the grocery store and cry later in the shower—do that. Neither way makes you stronger, weaker, better, or worse.

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Permission

The work isn’t about choosing one or the other. What I’m suggesting is that the work is about knowing you don’t have to prove your grief in public to make it real. You don’t have to break open in front of people if that’s not what you want. Grief is grief.

You get to decide when you let the tears fall. That decision, in itself, is agency.

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PS: If this resonated with you, consider sharing it. Every time someone passes on an article from Unfixed, it finds its way to someone sitting quietly with their grief, wondering if they’re the only one. A small act of sharing can remind them they’re not alone.

1. NB: I did find another therapist that worked for my needs. By no means do I intend to imply or suggest that therapy should be abruptly stopped or avoided if you don’t like a line of questioning. If you have sought support from a mental health professional, communicate your concerns with them directly.