I'll just post my history with crying, ok?
Back when I was about three years old? Five? Just as soon as I developed some basic understanding of what I'm looking at, some kind of basic consciousness, one of the first things I understood from my parents was "big boys don't cry". Big boys, strong boys, just boys in general - boys don't cry.
At the age of about seven I moved along with my parents to this new country where everything is great.
Obviously, everything was not great.
I was greeted with shouts of "smelly/stinky Russian" and bullying. Eventually we arranged into a group of friends who had some things in common: we're all Ukrainian or Russian, and we all have nothing.
If there's one thing kids are good at, it's psychological warfare. If there are two, it's psychological warfare and racism.
The Israeli bullying confirmed two ideas we have developed - big and strong boys don't cry, and Israelis are inferior creatures seeing as they cry over every minuscule thing. We doubled down on not crying, and we got into fights a lot.
We also wanted to confirm that Israelis are inferior academically (this was later legitimately confirmed by incoming older students who immigrated at a later age and we're light years ahead of the Israeli curriculum). I did this by getting myself interested in programming and not crying when things didn't go my way or when I didn't understand things.
Others soon joined.
At later age I came to the conclusion that crying is not entirely unacceptable, it's being caught crying that is the "sin". I've found myself a sort of "crying cave" - a place I went to during my "first school" (grades 1-6) to cry every so often. It was a normal building near the school, it's just that nobody from my school knew I went there.The problems arose when I moved schools for grades 7-12, and logistically, the use for the "crying cave" faded away. By the time I would get there, the need faded away.
I'd like to pause for a second and ask you to picture it from a different perspective - you walk by a building and vaguely hear a crying child inside. Either there's child abuse going on, or it's a child fucking ghost. Either way, you don't want to be near either.
Roughly at third grade we got a tv, and this idea of when men cry in movies, that means shit has hit the fan.
If a girl cries, it means her crush didn't want to take her to prom, but all she needs is a haircut and a glittery dress, and in about 15-20 minutes this guy will do backflips to win her over. If a guy cries, it means his crush has cancer, and he is being tasked with literally digging her grave.
If a guy cries, there's some serious shit incoming. A guy doesn't cry for nothing.
And so, before crying I would spend a few seconds to ponder whether a thing is serious enough to cry over. Those few seconds of me trying to be objective were enough to wipe out the need to cry.
At the end of 12th grade I was drafted into the IDF. No longer am I some kid in school, I am now a soldier. I (hypothetically) kill evil terrorists. At least that's how our commanders described it. Soldiers don't cry.
And so it came to now. After about 25 years since forming consciousness I literally can't cry. I can manage some sobbing, but crying? It just doesn't come out.
It feels a little broken, to be honest. Now with all these articles describing crying as a form of release, which it did feel like, not being able to do that release feels like having been castrated.