Your boss is raking you over the coals verbally. You don't even respect their words because, as a mentor, they suck. But you still feel the burn of the verbal assault. The tears sting your eyes and you look away, blinking quickly. There's no crying at work. 

The doctor returns with the verdict. You beloved, full-of-life, parent is severely ill and will need extensive care. You want to curl up into a corner and live in denial. But plans have to be made, appointments with lawyers kept, and family members to call. Your throat catches and you can't breathe. There is no crying in times of crisis. 

You're gushing to an acquaintance about the new boyfriend. He's so kind, sweet, and treats you with respect. Best of all he's completely honest and forthright. You think he may be the one. Until you see him at the restaurant with the other woman. You are crushed. But there is no crying in public. 

Your best friend is ecstatic with news of a bundle of joy. You are so happy for them and want nothing but good things, but deep down you can't relate to the good news because it's been ages since you had good news of your own. You smile harder because the "tears of joy" are making an appearance. There is no crying unless they are happy tears. 

Do divas cry? 

I hate that I am a crier. Silly commercials. Girly movies. Stories about people who overcome struggles. Oprah. A bad day at work. Anger. Any one of these things can transform me from a sarcastic, cold, robotic near-human being to a blubbering, snotty, mess of hormones and tears. And that annoys me severely, so I try to be alone, in a sound proof cave, when it happens. 

We are strong, empowered women, who are able to go nose to nose with the best of 'em at work and hand out supportive hugs at home all in one breath. We took Beyonce's words to heart; we are independent women, who pay our own bills and have our own lives. I'm proud to be able to support myself financially, physically, and emotionally. I am every woman, as Whitney would say. 

So when the tears threaten to spill over, I bite them back quickly because I have much to be thankful for and too much pride to let anyone see my pain. It feels like a weakness. As if somehow because I am overwhelmed with emotion and cannot control my physical response, I also lack the ability to control my own world. Because somehow I am supposed to be Mary Poppins, practically perfect in every way. 

What I've learned is that my ability to release my emotion in a tangible way is a boon. It is a way to acknowledge a powerful sentiment, embrace it, and absolve it. Similar to a smile of joy, a tear of sadness is a outward reflection of an internal picture that deserves to be experienced. Who am I to denounce it as a weakness? It is natural. It is important. It is a message that something inside needs your attention. 

For many years a woman had to act more like a man in order to be successful in his domain. But the times have changed, and many women are achieving success, not by rejecting their uniqueness, but by embracing those traits. People are encouraged to be more nurturing, empathic, and team oriented, rather than the dictatorial, inflexible leaders of the past. Even though crying has a bad rap in the workplace, it can be healthy. So if you need to close your office door and let loose; just keep some tissues and visine in your drawer. You'll feel better. And if you don't, understand the message being sent. Something is wrong. 

I'm still learning to let go in front of other humans; so far I'm able to cry in front of the dog. But I'm no longer ashamed of my need to release. 

Do divas cry? I do. And you can too.