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Why Some People Can’t Cry

  • Writer: Matt  Teague
    Matt Teague
  • Nov 11
  • 2 min read

Not everyone can cry when they’re grieving. Some people feel the ache, the pressure in the chest, the heaviness behind the eyes, but the tears don’t come. Others feel nothing at all - just a kind of emotional flatness, as though the sadness is locked behind a wall they can’t access.


Struggling to cry is not a sign of coldness or disconnection.

It’s a sign of protection.


Crying requires vulnerability.

It requires a softening of the body.

It requires the nervous system to feel safe enough to open.


If safety isn’t present, the tears don’t arrive.


People often can’t cry because:


• they learned early on to stay composed

• crying was shamed, punished, or ignored

• they had to be the strong one in the family

• they were praised for emotional control

• they survived environments that required suppression

• their body doesn’t trust that falling apart is allowed

• they’re still in shock or freeze

• the grief hasn’t reached the surface yet


The inability to cry is not emotional failure.

It’s emotional intelligence shaped by necessity.


The body restricts tears because it believes they would be too overwhelming. The nervous system keeps the emotional gates closed because opening them feels too risky.


Freeze also blocks tears.

Shock blocks tears.

Dissociation blocks tears.

High responsibility blocks tears.

Years of “holding it together” blocks tears.


Tears come only when the system feels safe enough to soften.


For some people, crying arrives months later. For others, tears come only in small, unexpected moments - a song, a smell, a memory, a touch. And for some, tears don’t appear at all, but the grief is still there, moving in quieter ways.


There is no correct way to cry.

There is no correct way to grieve.


If tears aren’t coming, nothing is wrong. Your body will open when it’s ready. Sometimes the first release isn’t tears at all - it’s a deeper breath, a trembling in the ribs, a long sigh, a sense of pressure shifting.


This is crying, too.

Just in the language of the body.


If you know someone who may benefit from breathwork for grief, or if you’d like support reconnecting with your emotional release pathways, you’re welcome to explore my grief-tending breathwork sessions. They offer a gentle space for the body to soften at its own pace.



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