We have officially reached that time of the semester: when too much is happening all at once, and you find yourself that much closer to losing the already tenuous grip you have on your sanity. Unfortunately, the opportunity to do anything about the massive overcommitment we’re all experiencing is long gone. So, what do we do about the constant stream of caffeine and stress entering our systems, and the presumably unrelated increase in panic attacks? Cry. The answer is cry. But, the more complicated question is where do we cry? Sometimes the need to cry catches you off guard, and you can’t make it back to the dorm, or maybe your roommate(s) are already crying there. Whatever the reason, sometimes you need a good place to cry in public, and— if so— this list of the best places on campus to cry is for you.
Notably, most of these locations are bathrooms, which provide a few advantages. First of all, “I’m going to the bathroom” is a perfectly acceptable reason to give when trying to leave whatever situation you’re in. It’s not even a lie, you just failed to specify that you were going there to cry. Bathrooms are also one of the few public places where privacy is guaranteed, so they’re naturally an excellent choice for your crying needs. With that in mind, let’s begin with the non-bathroom locations.
You know it, you love it, C-level of the library. You do have to be quiet, so no hysterical sobbing, but if you’re looking for ambiance, this is the place for you. A group study room can be nice if you can get one, but the numerous individual study tables work just fine. Something about silent tears rolling down your cheeks amongst the Russian history anthologies really speaks to the main character in all of us.
Next up, a favorite of the theatre and music majors, the basement practice rooms in the CA. These are the closest thing to soundproof you’re going to get—wailers take note—and there’s always a chance anyone who hears you will think you’re a fan of vocal slides. There are mirrors in some of them, so you don’t have to leave the room with mascara under your eyes or a blotchy face, and if you like a soundtrack to your mental breakdown, there’s no need for earbuds.
For our first bathroom location, we have the downstairs bathrooms in Seegers Union. Out of the way, tucked behind some mailboxes, this location is rarely busy, even in the middle of the day. This bathroom is ideal for a mealtime cry, due to its proximity to the dining hall or, perhaps, after a frustrating meeting with the Career Center.
Moyer is one of the ugliest buildings on campus, and the vibes inside are exactly as cursed as the outside may suggest. If a building’s very existence were to make someone cry, Moyer would be it. Whether it’s the building itself, or the classes you’re taking in it, the second-floor bathrooms are the premier destination for your Moyer-crying needs. Why you may ask? Honestly, there is no concrete evidence for this recommendation, it just seems to be the one location in this truly terrible building that doesn’t actively do damage to your mental health.
This one may surprise you, but the upstairs bathrooms in the LSC are both a convenient and secluded place to have a mental breakdown. Some people work out their frustrations through physical activity, and whether you need to work through your emotions a little before or after your workout, these seldom used and spacious bathrooms are the perfect place to do it.
Last, but certainly not least, are the Rehearsal House bathrooms. Due to their remote location, they’re only of circumstantial use, but those circumstances arise frequently. Acting classes, voice lessons, rehearsals: all emotionally loaded, and often taking place in Rehearsal House, making the demand for an appropriate place to cry all the more urgent. There are four large, single-stall bathrooms in Rehearsal House, all equipped with loud fans, almost as though someone had designed them with crying in mind. With plenty of space and noise to cover the sounds of your panic attack, these bathrooms offer a luxurious crying experience, perfect for the emotionally fragile artists that frequent the building.
Wherever you choose to do your crying as the semester draws to a close, know that you are not alone. We’re Muhlenberg students; taking on too much is basically a requirement for admission, and the mental breakdowns that go along with that spare no one. So, if you find yourself overwhelmed and sniffling in a bathroom stall, know that there’s a decent chance you’re not the only one.
