Why We Cry: The Biology of Tears and Emotional Release

Written By Michele Gargiulo

When the Soul Spills Water…

Some mornings, I cry while slicing onions.
Other days, I cry because my heart remembers something it wishes it didn’t.
The tears are the same shape, but not the same story.

Weeping is one of the strangest things the body does. Evolutionarily baffling, neurologically complex, and poetically human, it is a reflex, a release, and a ritual. It’s the eye turning itself inside out to show the world what the chest can no longer contain.

But not all tears are equal. And not all weeping is sadness.

Let’s look closely (microscopically, chemically, and emotionally) at the different types of tears, and why crying may be one of the most powerful biological balms we have.

The Three Types of Tears

Scientists categorize tears into three types:

  1. Basal tears – the silent guardians of the eye. These are always present, keeping the cornea hydrated and healthy.

  2. Reflex tears – the protective kind, summoned by smoke, wind, onions, or dust. They flush out irritants like a first responder team with buckets.

  3. Emotional tears – the ones with poetry in them. Triggered by sadness, joy, frustration, empathy, or even music, these are chemically different from the others.

That’s right, emotional tears are biochemically unique. They contain higher levels of hormones, stress-related proteins, and neurotransmitters than other tear types. The body isn’t just making water; it’s releasing the residue of emotional overwhelm.

And through that saline shedding, we become just a little lighter.

The Chemistry of Catharsis

The term catharsis comes from the Greek katharsis, meaning “cleansing” or “purging.” Ancient philosophers used it to describe the purifying effect of tragedy on the soul.

Today, we know the body participates in this process physically.

Studies have found emotional tears release:

  • Cortisol (stress hormone)

  • Prolactin (a hormone associated with grief and nurturing)

  • Adrenocorticotropic hormone (ACTH) (which manages stress)

  • Leucine enkephalin, an endorphin-like painkiller

  • Oxytocin, the love-and-trust hormone

This means that when you cry from sadness or relief, you’re not being weak…you’re chemically detoxing.

Tears are the body’s version of exhale.

The Role of Oxytocin and Connection

Oxytocin, often called the “cuddle hormone,” surges during crying…especially if we’re being comforted by someone else. It bonds us.
It explains why we want to be held when we’re crying.
Why babies wail until they’re touched.
Why tears on a friend’s cheek draw us in like a magnet.

Crying is a signal. A flare shot into the sky from the dark sea of selfhood.
It says: I’m in pain. Come closer.
And sometimes, someone does. That closeness alone begins the healing.

Hormonal Waves and Why We Cry More on Certain Days

Ever cried for “no reason”? There was a reason.
It just wasn’t logical.
It was chemical.

For people with fluctuating hormone cycles, crying can surge before menstruation, during ovulation, or after birth. Estrogen and progesterone levels affect mood regulation, and prolactin (higher in women) may make crying more frequent.

Stress, sleep, trauma, even dehydration can change how close tears are to the surface.

There’s a myth that crying makes you weak. But the truth is, it often signals a body that’s processing something enormous, complex, and unspoken.

Why Grief Feels Like Drowning in Salt

Tears of grief are unlike anything else. They come in waves, just like the ocean they resemble: salty, rhythmic, and beyond your control.

Grief tears can feel hot.
Like burning.
Like the soul trying to cauterize something inside.

And yet, they are necessary. When held back, grief ferments.
Studies show that suppressed emotion (especially after trauma or loss) leads to higher risks of depression, anxiety, insomnia, and heart disease.

To cry for someone you’ve lost is to write a love letter with your face.

Why Some People Struggle to Cry

Not everyone can. Some haven’t cried in years…not because they don’t feel, but because they’ve been taught not to show it.

Childhood conditioning, trauma, cultural expectations, and even antidepressants can suppress the tear reflex. But that doesn’t mean the body isn’t aching to let go.

In some therapy models, like EMDR or somatic experiencing, the return of tears is seen as a major breakthrough.
It means the dam is breaking.
It means something, somewhere, is finally safe enough to feel.

what tears look like under a microscope that are from being sad

Crying and the Nervous System

Tears activate the parasympathetic nervous system: the branch responsible for rest, digestion, and repair.
It’s the opposite of the fight-or-flight response.
Which means that crying literally turns off your internal alarm bells.

After the storm, your heart rate slows.
Your breathing deepens.
Your body begins to return to baseline.

That’s why many people say they feel “drained but better” after crying. The nervous system has recalibrated. The danger signal has dimmed.

Do Animals Cry?

We know they feel. But do they cry?

Elephants have been seen shedding tears at funerals.
Dogs whine and grow despondent when they lose a loved one.
Some apes weep silently when mourning.

But scientists debate whether these are true emotional tears or just reflexive reactions.

Still, if you’ve ever locked eyes with a grieving animal, you know.
There’s something happening there.
Some ache that echoes ours.

Crying Alone vs. Crying With Others

Interestingly, people often cry harder when they’re alone, but feel more soothed when they cry with someone else.

This duality speaks to our social wiring. We cry alone for release. We cry with others for connection.

In both cases, we are metabolizing emotion.
Making the invisible visible.
Turning the raw data of sorrow into something soft, even beautiful.

Tears in Art, Religion, and Ritual

Long before neuroscience named oxytocin, our ancestors knew that tears meant transformation.

In ancient texts, tears were the language of prophets and saints.
Mary wept at the foot of the cross. Shiva cried the Ganges into being.
In Judaism, there's a tradition that God counts each tear. In Japan, namida holds the dual meaning of grief and grace.

Across cultures, crying isn’t weakness…it’s sacred.
It marks thresholds: births, deaths, weddings, and goodbyes.
In rituals, tears are the offering. The proof that something mattered.
Even now, we light candles and cry. We kneel and cry.

Our bodies become the altar, and salt is the incense of sorrow.
Art captures this instinct. From Rodin’s sculptures to silent films, the tear is a character in its own right.
We are taught to hold back.

But the soul still remembers how to bow, how to break, how to weep and become holy.

Why Tears Feel Hot (And Sometimes Cold)

Have you noticed that some tears sting? That grief scalds while nostalgia chills?

This isn’t poetic license, it’s thermodynamic truth.

Emotional intensity affects the body’s vascular system, altering blood flow to the face and eyes.
A wave of anger or panic can dilate vessels and make your tears feel hot, even burning.
Meanwhile, tears born of detachment (like watching a sad movie you’re not invested in) might run cool.

Temperature, in this case, is memory’s fingerprint.
The same way scent brings a past lover to the room, heat in tears can recall a moment of powerlessness.
It’s a small miracle that our emotions can shift the weather inside our bodies.

A thunderstorm in the skull. A fever in the eyes.
You’re not imagining it, your body is telling a story in warmth and water.
Let it speak.

Why We Wail, Sob, and Go Silent

Crying doesn’t always sound the same.
Sometimes it’s loud, guttural, almost animal. Other times it’s silent, just breath and tremble.
Why?

Because emotion has volume. Because grief has dialects.
A sob is a spasm. A wail is a warning. A whisper is surrender.
We cry differently depending on the cause, but also the context.

Children often scream-cry because they still believe the world will respond.
Adults learn silence. Learn to cry into pillows, in parked cars, under shower water.
But when a true breaking point arrives, the voice returns.

The animal emerges.
The cry becomes a howl again, like the body forgot politeness and remembered survival.
And in that moment, something primal is reclaimed.

Why Crying Makes Us Tired

Crying drains more than water, it burns glucose, spikes your heart rate, and taxes your muscles.
It’s a full-body ritual, disguised as a facial event.

Each sob is a micro-contraction. Each tear is an exhale that didn’t make it into language.
No wonder you feel like you’ve run a marathon afterward.

The nervous system has done its dance: fight, flight, freeze, and finally: thaw.

That thawing is work.
The parasympathetic system floods the body after tears, releasing a wave of come down.
Like after a storm.

You lie there, limp and blinking, unsure whether to sleep or rise anew.
This is the body restoring itself. Not weakness. Not laziness.
Just the beautiful exhaustion of having survived your own emotions.

Crying in Dreams: Tears from the Subconscious

Have you ever woken up with tears on your cheeks, but no memory of the dream?
Your body knows things your mind hasn’t admitted.

Dream-crying is a psychic overflow valve: a way for the subconscious to weep in safety.
In REM sleep, the brain processes trauma, reorganizes memory, and often replays fragments we thought we’d buried.
Sometimes the dream is clear: a death, a betrayal, a lost child.

Other times, it’s murky: a color, a song, a doorway you couldn't enter.
Yet still, the tears come. Saltwater summoned from the sea beneath waking thought.
It means something is surfacing. Something is ready.
Tears in dreams are often the first clue that healing is underway.

A soul whisper: “We’re not done grieving that yet.”
Listen.

The Gendered Expectations of Tears

Boys are told not to cry.
Girls are told they cry too much.
And both are wounded by it.

Studies show people perceive male tears as more “justified” but also more “unsettling.”
Female tears are often dismissed as hysteria, even when born of rage or brilliance.
This emotional policing starts early: “Toughen up,” “Don’t be so sensitive,” “Are you crying again?”
But emotional repression doesn’t disappear…it redirects.
Into stomachaches. Into addiction. Into numbness.
Into violence, sometimes.

The truth? We need to cry. All of us.
Every uncried tear collects in the body like sediment.
Let it pour. Let it crash. Let the gender binary drown in it.

The Science of Stuck Emotions

Not all crying feels good.
Sometimes you sob and feel worse. Or nothing at all.
That’s because not all tears lead to catharsis.

When emotion gets trapped (by trauma, shame, or neurochemical imbalance) tears might come without release.
They’re signals, not solutions.
Your body might be saying “Help me process,” but the circuitry isn’t connected yet.

This is common in PTSD, depression, or high-dissociation states.
The crying is real. But the relief is absent.

Don’t judge yourself. You’re not broken. You’re just still in the middle.
It’s okay to cry and still feel lost afterward.

Some storms take longer to clear.

happy tears under a microscope

Michele Gargiulo http://michelegargiulo.com
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