A few months ago, my eyes watering while I cut onions, my 6-year old asked me if I?ve ever cried. I answered yes, quickly changing the subject to a lighter topic, and carried on making dinner.   
The truth is, crying and I have a complicated history. While I grew up in a loving, supportive family, we didn?t really share our emotions. I became the type of person who choked back my tears or only cried when alone. It?s not that I grew up being told I couldn?t cry but rather something inside me told me sad feelings shouldn?t be shown. Anger"  No problem. But sadness should be kept to ourselves. 
This reluctance to openly share my emotions continued into adulthood. A few years ago, when my husband called me from SickKids Hospital with what I thought would be news that my five-year-old was being released in time for Christmas but instead, the antibiotics for his perforated appendix didn?t work, he now needed surgery, and he would likely be in the hospital for Christmas?I didn?t cry. When my mom put her hand on my shoulder, instead of turning for a hug I swallowed the lump in my throat and walked away.
I never thought me hiding my emotions was a problem until this year when, after feeling entirely burned out and anxious from virtual schooling, entertaining our kids all the time since they couldn?t see their friends and my husband and I trying to juggle it all, I turned to therapy for myself and my eldest to better manage.
During my son?s first virtual therapy session,...