Boys don’t cry? Don’t make me blub

Boys don’t cry, the saying goes, but it is no harder for a man or a boy to cry than a woman or a girl. It is however, harder to admit to it or to be seen doing it, if you happen to be male. But crying remains the purest of human reactions, as an outward expression of a range of emotions and a sure-fire way of cleansing your mental palate.

From day one of life, crying is our only form of communicating: hello, I have arrived in the world; I’m hungry; I’m sore; change my nappy; I’m cold; I’m hot; I want a cuddle in the middle of the night; pick me up; put me down. Crying continues to allow older children to express their shock and horror at falling over and grazing a knee, to express sense of injustice that “he’s getting more treats than me”. It is a useful method of gaining sympathy from an angry parent when the giving out just gets too much.

Crying allows us throughout our lives to express sadness. It is the most obvious manifestation of sadness – or indeed happiness.

Farce, films and football

During a moment of solitude recently, I got to thinking about the times I had cried as an adult. Some are deeply private and not for these pages, and some are so trivial, almost ridiculous, that I am choosing not to embarrass myself by highlighting them.

There are the films that really affected me emotionally – In the Name of the Father in Dublin's Savoy in 1993, when the audience sprung to its feet in applause. I wasn't the only one in tears at the end. The last scene in The Deer Hunter made me cry and still does: the scene where Meryl Streep's character leads a rendition of God Bless America. My Best Friend's Wedding, one of my favourite films featuring one of my favourite actors, Julia Roberts, for some reason makes me a little emotional.

I remember crying when the Fields of Athenry was sung loudly by Irish fans as we trailed Spain by four goals to nil and as we crashed out of Euro 2012. It's not that I am a huge soccer fan, but there was something about that moment in Ireland's history that was incredibly sad. Our country had been destroyed by the financial crisis (remember we were in the "group of debt" with Spain and Italy), and it felt that the song in the stadium that night was a lament for our nation by a damaged people.

It was deeply moving when the national anthems were sung in Croke Park as the Ireland rugby team took on England in 2007. The history, the emotion, the anger, the pride. It was too much.

The birth of my children

I have cried at moments of great joy. Spontaneously, I cried at the moment each of my three children was born. It took me completely by surprise when it happened the first time, as I was sure that I was somebody who kept his emotions inside. Apparently not.

I have cried with empathy for others. I was listening to the Pat Kenny show as I did some painting recently, as he interviewed a woman whose son was living with a very rare terminal condition. She described how her life was dominated by the care she needed to give to him, yet she gave that care so generously and with such pride, and the huge love she had for him was so apparent, and yet, inevitably, he would not be in this world in a number of years.

When I heard Tom Curran, Fine Gael's general secretary, describe on the radio the day after Ireland had voted Yes to same-sex marriage how his 16-year-old son came out as gay, it made me deeply emotional as I cycled from Monasterboice to Drogheda.

Crying is one of the best emotional releases a person can deploy. It is why I have always loved the music of Morrissey and The Smiths. It is music that the unemotional can view as dour and depressing, yet those who recognise it properly find it a wonderful way of accessing their emotions, sometimes with humour and wit and always with honesty and sincerity.

Of course boys cry all the time, even if some of them cry inside rather than out. And one of the funny things about reaching the ripe old age of 40 is that you care less about what other people think of you or how they might judge you for who you are. So I’m a man, I cry the odd time and, boy, it feels good

• @paddylogue
• Michael Harding is on leave