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Sunday's Mental Health Check-In: The Life-Saving Power of "Crying Out"
Happy Sunday, everyone.
Welcome back to our weekly mental health check-in. Grab your coffee, find that comfortable spot on the couch, and let’s take a deep breath together before the new week begins.
This week, I stumbled upon a proverb originating from Zimbabwe, specifically from the Shona language, that stopped me absolutely cold. It’s stark, it’s intense, and man, is it necessary to hear.
The proverb translates to: "A child that does not cry will die in the carrier."
Heavy, right? I know. It’s a punch to the gut on a quiet Sunday morning. But stay with me, because unpacked, this might be one of the most vital metaphors for our mental well-being I’ve ever encountered.
The Imagery
To understand the power of this, we have to visualize it. In many cultures, babies are often carried wrapped tightly to their mother’s or caregiver's back. The baby is safe, secure, and moving along with the caregiver through their day.
But here’s the thing: The caregiver cannot see the baby's face.
If the baby is hungry, uncomfortable, hot, or in pain, the caregiver—no matter how much they love that child—cannot instinctively know something is wrong if the baby stays silent.
The baby has to cry. That cry isn't a nuisance; it is a vital signal of distress. It is the only way the baby can say, "Hey, I need something back here!"
If the child does not cry, they suffer in silence on the back of the very person equipped to help them.
The "I'm Fine" Trap
How often do we do this as adults?
We are struggling. We are overwhelmed by anxiety, crushed by sadness, or just feeling totally burnt out. But when someone asks how we are, the auto-pilot kicks in:
"I'm fine. Just busy."
We stay silent in the carrier.
We buy into the incredibly damaging myth that being strong means suffering silently. We convince ourselves that our pain is a burden to others. We think, “Oh, my partner is too stressed at work, I won't tell them I'm spiraling,” or “My friends are all having fun, I don’t want to bring the mood down.”
Sometimes, we even fall into the trap of thinking that the people who love us should just know. We think, "If they really cared, they'd see I'm drowning."
But go back to the proverb. The caregiver on the front cannot see the baby on the back. Your friends, your family, your partner—they are living their own complex lives. They aren't mind readers. Their inability to see your invisible pain isn't a lack of love; it's just a lack of information.
"Closed Mouths Don't Get Fed"
There’s a simpler, more common version of this saying you’ve probably heard: "Closed mouths don't get fed."
In the context of mental health, if you don't voice your pain, the universe (and your support system) cannot offer you relief.
"Crying out" doesn't always mean literal tears (though those are totally valid too). It means:
Sending that text that says, "Honestly, I'm really having a hard time today."
Telling your therapist the thing you’ve been avoiding saying out loud.
Admitting to your boss that your workload is unsustainable.
Asking a friend, "Can you just sit with me for a bit? I don't want to be alone."
Your Check-In for the Week
This Shona proverb is a powerful reminder that vulnerability isn't a weakness; it is a survival mechanism.
So, for this Sunday check-in, I want to challenge you with two things for the week ahead:
1. Who are your "carriers"? Identify the people in your life who make up your support system. Remind yourself that they want to know when you aren't okay. They cannot help carry the load if they don't know it's gotten too heavy.
2. Practice a "small cry." If you are struggling right now, don't swallow it. You don't have to shout it from the rooftops, but find one safe corner of your world and let the truth out. Test the waters. See what happens when you stop pretending you've got it all together.
You do not have to suffer in silence. Your voice is the signal that brings help. Use it.
Have a gentle week, everyone. We’re in this together.
