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the tender poets club · Feb 18, 2026

i got my tear ducts plugged & now i can cry again

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the tender poets club · the tender poets club

The hardest I’ve ever cried was not after a traumatic experience, at my wedding, or any of the big moments in between — good or bad. This moment was so insignificant that I can’t even recall it right now, but I do remember how it felt to weep so hard I began dry heaving so hard I wished I could rip my lungs from my body to feel relief. I remember making sure that I was alone.

I used to find it funny how, after looking at my reflection after a good cry, I never looked like the crying girls in the movies. I had the traditional puffy face and swollen eyes. The picture-perfect post-cry disheveled look. There were, undoubtedly, tears on my face, but never a lot. Small, wet pools under my bottom lashes, and maybe the occasional tear streak, were all I’d get. It’s like my body tried to force something out of me, but couldn’t let it go.

“You’re gonna need punctal plugs,” my optometrist told me two weeks ago. “Your tear ducts are larger than normal, and your eyes are draining your tears almost instantly. When I put these eye drops in, they were gone in seconds.”

“That’s not normal?” I asked.

“No, it’s not.”

The punctal plugs are as horrifying as they sound — teeny tiny silicone plugs placed inside my bottom tear ducts — one in each eye. The hope? That it’ll stop my eyes from draining so quickly. That I’ll have tears again.

i had to experience it, so you have to see it.

The first time I used eye drops after getting my punctal plugs put in, I startled myself at how quickly my tears welled and fell down my face. And again, outside, when the sun was too bright. And again, when I was prepping onions while cooking dinner. I can cry now. Like, actually cry. I’m left wondering what it would have been like if my tears found me in my most traumatic or joyful moments.

When I couldn’t retain my tears, maybe, subconsciously, I knew that my in-the-moment reaction would not have looked like the right one. Not sad enough, not happy enough. How can anyone believe I’m hurting if I don’t look like I am? How can anyone believe I’m happy if it doesn’t show? It has always been safer to stay neutral in public. It has always been easiest to do so.

“It’s like my eyes were protecting me, not letting myself cry in situations where it didn’t feel safe to cry,” I told my therapist last week.

“Or,” they said, “Your body gave you a natural path for you to cry as much as you needed. Your tears always had some place to go.”

And now that my tears aren’t draining as quickly as they come, I am learning how to create a new path for my tears — one that I can see in the mirror, one that I’m not afraid for others to see.

Abecedarian Requiring Further Examination Before a Diagnosis Can Be Determined by Torrin A. Greathouse

Drag Path by Twenty One Pilots — inject this song into my veins. i can’t get enough of it. i will never escape the the hold this band has on me.

all the love, all the warmth, all the light,

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who i am: a writer, a lover, and a very Black + queer person. i love deeply, forget rarely, and spend most of my time cuddling with my dog, my cat, and my partner.

who i'm not: a therapist, mental health professional, or emergency service. i love hearing the stories of your experiences, but please don't send explicit or triggering details of your story without my prior consent.

if you're in crisis, please call 911 or use any of the following resources:

  • National Suicide Prevention Hotline: 988

  • National Domestic Violence Hotline: 1-800-799-SAFE (7233)

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  • Eating Disorders Awareness and Prevention: 1-800-931-2237

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